#Guys would you be willing to read me being insane bout this movie

[knizuu]

I wanna cry, what is this banner-

[blissedoutphil]

Tops Only Part 2

Dan’s favourite actor just opened a new bar right by the street near his apartment, and he couldn’t wait to check it out. One problem though, it was for Tops only, and Dan wasn’t one.

1389 words of Top!Phil, bottom!dan, AU where everyone’s born with a Type (top/bottom/switch)

There's a tiny part in here that was inspired by the Weenie Hut Jr episode of Spongebob. gotta love that classic

~Part 1~

or read on ao3!

“Thought you were gonna unstan him now.”

Dan rolled his eyes at Anthony’s remark, then went back to scrolling his tumblr. His post about how unfair Phil was with the bar had gained traction, and it was largely supported by his fellow Type. Though there were some Tops who grumbled about how people were taking things too seriously or tried to explain that it wasn’t unfair. Dan blocked those accounts. What do they know about unfair treatment?

Dan had asked Anthony to help with his plan B tonight: Perhaps they could let him in if he came with a Top. It would definitely irritate him if they allowed this, but at least he would be let in. Anthony easily agreed to try it out, so here they were waiting in line. He was a friend Dan didn’t deserve, always willing to indulge in Dan’s fanboying.

Dan had waited a couple of weeks, walking past the bar everyday but from across the road instead. He'd observed the different bouncers, trying to work out their schedules as he didn’t want to cross paths with the same one from his original attempt.

They stepped up to the new bouncer, who easily let Anthony through after they flashed their ID. But he held out a hand in front of Dan when Dan tried to quickly follow Anthony.

“Oh, I’m with him,” Dan reasoned.

“Still no can do buddy,” the bouncer stepped between him and Anthony.

“It’s okay I can take care of him,” Anthony spoke to the bouncer casually.

Inside, Dan hated the statement. He can take care of himself, thank you very much. But that’s just how the world worked and treated Types - Tops protect and care for their Bottoms. He understood where Anthony was playing at, so he played along and nodded with wide pleading eyes.

“Sorry,” the bouncer shook his head.

Dan frowned, but at least this bouncer was polite. Unfortunately though, he’d judged the guy too soon.

“I think you’d be better off in a Bottoms Only Bar,” the bouncer then suggested lightheartedly.

"Bottoms only?!" Dan repeated in surprise and seethed, “are you fucking kidding me?”

The bouncer shrugged unapologetically, swiftly moving on to the next person. Anthony shot Dan an apologetic look before he entered. Dan had prepared for this outcome, instructing Anthony to enter without him if he couldn’t so that he can bring back updates on what goes on inside that makes it so unacceptable for Dan to be let in.

Dan made his way back home begrudgingly, imagining himself opening a Bottoms Only Bar. See how Phil would like being excluded like this.

He sighed as he reached his door, shaking his head at his own thoughts. Why would Phil care about Dan’s made up Bottoms Only bar, he doesn’t even know who Dan is.

Dan entered his apartment and sprawled on his sofa, opting to scroll the internet while he waited for Anthony. The security at Phil’s bar was good, he read quite a number of fans’ posts on how they tried to sneak in not just through the bouncers but through any possible back doors. So far, nobody has had any luck still.

Anthony finally returned past 1am, startling Dan out of his accidental nap when he knocked on Dan’s door. Dan narrowed his eyes at Anthony when he opened the door.

“You didn’t need to be there that long,” Dan grumbled.

“Dude, it was...” Anthony was clearly very pumped up and tipsy after a good night out but he quietened, not wanting to make Dan feel bad about being unable to enter.

“Just tell me,” Dan groaned, slumping back on his sofa.

So Anthony related the events of his night. How there were Bottom waiters enticing the guests while serving their dessert and drinks. Giving them a show and dancing with the Tops, even getting sexual with those who gave extra tips.

“Did you like… get it on with a waiter or what?” Dan said judgmentally.

Anthony shrugged playfully, “The opportunity presented itself…”

Dan fake retched at Anthony’s confession, and got a playful punch on his shoulder in return.

It was clear from what Anthony told him that the bar really was catered for Tops only. That still didn’t satisfy Dan, though.

“He could’ve made an all-inclusive bar,” he pouted.

Anthony sighed empathically but he countered softly, “Well, it’s Phil’s way of finally expressing his Type I guess.”

“By capitalising on it and alienating a big part of his fanbase?” Dan spat.

“You really should unstan him if it bothers you, this is getting unhealthy.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Dan stuck his tongue out at Anthony.

“I saw him there,” Anthony admitted in a small voice.

“What?” Dan perked up instantly, “What was he doing? Did you get any pictures?!”

“I didn’t, but I think he’s there most nights. He made a short appearance and thanked everyone for coming and supporting him. Played around with some of the Bottoms for a bit.”

Dan scoffed, but deep down he felt a bout of envy. He wondered how those Bottoms got the job.

“Trust me Dan, you wouldn’t enjoy it there anyway. You’re not missing out on anything,” Anthony tried to comfort him.

“I guess. Thanks for getting the inside scoop,” Dan joked half-heartedly, getting up from the couch.

“I’ve prepared the guest room,” he yawned as he headed towards his own room.

He’d heard enough. Maybe Anthony was right, there was no reason to let some celebrity affect him this much. He decided to sleep his negativity off, abruptly leaving Anthony in the lounge. His friend had stayed over enough times to know to make himself comfortable in Dan’s home anyway.

Of course, unstanning someone Dan had adored for years was easier said than done. A few days later, he was back on his bullshit. He’d tried searching for any information online on how to get a job in Phil’s bar, but there was nothing at all. He frowned, he of all people should’ve seen information about it. How the hell did he miss any job ads or casting calls or auditions or whatever?

Dan sighed as he walked past the bar from across the road after work again. He could’ve been working in there right now. Seeing Phil every night. Maybe dancing with him. Instead he was stuck in some boring office admin job.

The queue to enter never wavered despite it being almost a month since opening already. And despite knowing almost everything there was to know about the bar, Dan still longed to step inside and see it for himself.

He visited Anthony for lunch the next day. And to drop Plan C on his friend.

“Are you insane?!” Anthony said incredulously upon hearing Plan C.

“C’monnn, everyone says we look freakishly alike anyway!” Dan persuaded.

“And what happens if they find out you’re using my ID? Will you pay the fine for me? Bail me out of jail?” Anthony stared at him disbelievingly.

“Don’t be so dramatic!”

“Oh I’m the dramatic one here? It’s just a bar Dan, let it go.”

Dan fell silent. He knew Anthony was right, there was no point in arguing. He sagged against his chair in defeat.

Perhaps Anthony felt guilty for dismissing his idea like that because after their lunch, Anthony sat Dan down on his couch and turned on one of Dan’s favourite movies that Phil starred in. It was telling that Anthony was trying to cheer Dan up because he would never watch that movie on his own accord.

“How long are you gonna be all mopey like this?” Anthony sighed after the movie ended and Dan was still being quiet.

“How come... I didn’t at least know they were hiring waiters or something?" Dan spoke wistfully.

Anthony gave a long suffering sigh before saying, “Maybe that could be your Plan D if C doesn’t work out.”

Dan looked up at his friend in surprise, finding Anthony’s hand outstretched towards him with his ID in hand.

“Really?” Dan said in an unsure but hopeful tone.

“Take it before I change my mind,” Anthony huffed.

“Thank you!” Dan leapt up to land in Anthony’s lap and crush him in a tight hug, “I owe you one.”

“Just don’t do anything stupid to get yourself caught,” Anthony chuckled, returning the hug.

-------------------------------

~Part 1~

This chapter's kinda short but dw next one's gonna be longer! Sorry no sign of Phil (yet) but hope yall enjoyed some danthony this chapter :) I'm enjoying projecting fan behaviour onto Dan lol

There will be either 4 or 5 parts for this fic, idk we'll see! lmk what you think so far~

[saventhhaven]

Fright Night - Part 3

Pairing: none

Tags: werewolf!reader, angst, Halloween, mystery

Word Count: 4,514

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! This is the final part of Fright Night! I hope you enjoyed it!

(Gif not mine)

Agent Elliot, or whatever his real name was, finished tightening the knots on the ropes that held you in place. You shook your head, trying to blink away tears.

"'FBI.' I can't believe I fell for that." Agent Elliot stood, going back over to Agent Russel, who was watching you as if you were a ticking time bomb, ready to explode. "Why the hell would the FBI care about an animal attack?"

"You think those ropes will hold her?" Agent Elliot asked, ignoring you.

"They'd better. It's not like we just have chains laying around in the trunk." Chains? What, the ropes weren't enough? You tugged at the restraints, testing the strength of them, but it was no use. They had you tied to one of your dining room chairs, your wrists bound to the chair's arms, and your ankles to the legs. Things weren't looking good for you, and you were scared. You pulled again at the ropes, harder this time, and let out a yelp as pain blossomed in your shoulder. At this point, blood had soaked through the front of your gray t-shirt. At your cry of pain, the two men turned their attention back to you. Setting your jaw resolutely, you forced yourself to sit up straighter. Panic was beginning to set in, but they didn't need to know that. Agent Russel crouched down in front of you, and you leaned against the back of the chair, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as physically possible. His entire demeanor had shifted since yesterday. Hell, even since ten minutes ago when the men had gotten to your house.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he warned in a threatening tone. He pulled up the hem of his flannel shirt, revealing a gun tucked into the waist of his jeans. A choked sob tore from your throat, and you hung your head, tears dripping onto your lap. Agent Russel stood again. "It'll be easier for everyone if you just cooperate." You looked up at the man.

"Please," you whispered, "just let me go." He chuckled, though you could tell there was no real humor in it.

"See, that ain't happening. You slaughtered an innocent kid, and that's not gonna fly."

"The girl in my back yard?" you quavered incredulously. "I found her body; I didn't kill her!" You were starting to get hysterical now. None of this made any sense. You turned to Agent Elliot, hoping you could somehow appeal to him. "Please," you repeated. Much to your surprise, his eyebrows knitted together, and he took a step closer.

"Dean, go easy." Dean. That must've been "Agent Russel's" real name.

"'Go easy?'" Dean echoed with disbelief. "She's a monster, Sam! She killed someone! And I'd put money down that she did it again!"

"What are you talking about?" you demanded shrilly. "Dean rounded on you again, his eyes blazing with fury.

"Okay, you can cut the innocent act right now, because whatever you're sellin', we ain't buying. We saw you last night, all right? So, if you stop pretending, this will all be over a whole lot sooner." You shook your head frantically and balled your hands into fists. This had to be some sort of misunderstanding. It was like you were hearing two radically different sides of the same story.

"I was here last night! Asleep! You know, sleep? Like normal people do?" Dean closed what was left of the distance between you in a single stride. He gripped the arms of the dining room chair, getting in your face.

"Then where did all those bruises come from, huh? How 'bout that nasty bullet wound?"

"I don't know!" Your words echoed around your living room, and for a moment, everything else went quiet. Letting out a heavy sigh, you averted your gaze. "That's why I called you two. I can see now that was a mistake." Dean let out a frustrated huff and shoved himself backward with a shake of his head. The man named Sam held out an arm to stop him from going too far.

"What if she doesn't know?" Dean stared at him in silence for a moment before he finally responded.

"You're serious?"

"Don't know what?" you chimed in.

"Remember Madison?" Sam continued, ignoring your question. "She didn't know she was a werewolf either." If the ropes hadn't been holding you in place, you might've fallen out of your chair right then.

"A werewolf?" When the two men had tied you up, you had a hunch that they weren't quite all there, but this was next-level stuff. "You think... you think I'm a werewolf? Oh, my God." You slumped back into the chair. "You're insane. You're actually insane." Dean glared at you before tilting his head in the other direction, signifying to the other man that they should move further away, where you couldn't hear every detail of their conversation.

"Think about it," Sam said lowly. "Why would she call us if she knew we were the ones that shot her?" Dean shook his head as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. You couldn't believe your ears.

"Wait. You two did this to me? The bruises? The bullet wound? It was all you?" You felt sick.

"Well, technically, the bruises were all you, princess," Dean clarified as he sauntered back over to you. "You're gonna be a little banged up when you run in front of a car." You let out a noise that was somewhere between nervous laughter and hyperventilating.

"Oh, God," you whimpered. "Can one of you please tell me what's going on? The truth." Sam opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by Dean.

"You're a werewolf. Claw-growing, full-moon-howling, the whole nine." Sam's face scrunched up in distaste.

"You want to be a little more blunt?" he sassed. When Dean only shrugged, he rolled his eyes. "Y/N," Sam tried again, "my name is Sam Winchester. This is my brother Dean. We're not actually FBI."

"Yeah, I gathered that when you practically tackled me and tied me to a chair." You sniffled. They might have been crazy, but at least you were finally getting some real answers. "All right, so if you're not FBI, then what are you?"

"We're hunters," Dean explained. "All that crap you see in crazy Halloween movies? Ghosts, vampires..." He looked at you pointedly. "Werewolves. It's all real."

"And we're the guys that kill them," Sam finished. For what felt like the hundredth time, you shook your head again. This couldn't be possible. Stuff like this wasn't even supposed to exist. It was all just myths and storylines for horror movies. But still... you couldn't deny the fact that you had no idea how you had gotten so beaten up. You looked over at your wounded shoulder, which was still bleeding. Dean noticed you staring.

"Y/N, even if you were sleepwalking, I think you'd remember getting shot last night," he said, practically reading your mind. You blinked once. Twice.

"Okay. If, and I mean if, I were maybe willing to consider the possibility that what you're telling me is true, I'm gonna need more of an explanation." Sam and Dean both pulled up chairs in front of you and took a seat. Dean gestured for you to continue.

"Shoot." All right. Now was the time to ask for verification for all the things that still didn't make sense. You licked your lips.

"Werewolves are supposed to have, like, crazy supernatural healing abilities, right?" Both boys nodded their confirmation. "Then why do I look like I just tried to take on Rocky drunk with a hand tied behind my back?" Dean chuckled, a real chuckle, at your sass while Sam nodded thoughtfully at your question. "If I were really a werewolf, shouldn't I have healed by now?" Sam bobbed his head at your shoulder.

"All werewolves have a weakness to silver," he answered. "That bullet you've got stuck in your shoulder is silver, so it's slowing down the healing process. One of those to the heart, and..." The boys exchanged a look, and you felt your stomach twist as you came to a realization.

"You were trying to kill me last night," you deduced. Dean leaned forward in his chair.

"We didn't know it was you until we got here this morning." Wow, that almost made you feel better. These men just told you they hunt monsters, and that you were one of the creatures they kill. Which led you to your next question.

"Are you still trying to kill me?" Sam and Dean fell silent, which you were sure wasn't a good sign. You sighed. "What you're asking me to believe goes against pretty much everything I know about reality."

"We know," Sam agreed. "It definitely takes some getting used to."

"It's crazy," you reiterated. "...but it's the only thing I can think of that makes sense. Even if it doesn't make much sense." The boys looked relieved. "So, what do we do now?"

"There's a cure," Dean informed you.

"But," Sam interrupted before you could allow sweet relief to sink in. "It's complicated. And risky. It only works one out of ten times."

"And the other nine?" Neither of the men would meet your eyes.

"They die." You swallowed hard, still trying to wrap your head around everything you had just learned. Two days ago, everything had been normal. But now? Well, this was just about as far from normal as you could get. If what the Winchesters were telling you was true - if you really were a werewolf - you couldn't live like this. Being afraid of yourself every time there was a full moon was no way to live out the rest of your life, and you wouldn't want to. Even if there was a 90% chance that you would die, it was a chance you had to take.

"How does this cure work?"

"We need live blood from the werewolf that bit you."

"And I don't suppose you know who that is?" you asked hopefully. When the boys shook their heads in unison, you couldn't say that you were too disappointed.

"Sorry, Y/N," Sam said. Of course, it wouldn't be that easy. Nothing ever was in your life, as you were coming to realize. "It would be ideal if we could figure it out before moonrise. It's the last night of the full moon." You felt the blood drain from your face. That's right. You hadn't even realized. Though, to be fair, you had no reason to know that before about half an hour ago.

"I need a drink," you breathed. Flexing your fingers under the ropes, you raised your eyebrows at Sam and Dean. "I know this is a long shot, but would you consider untying me?" You were hoping they would say yes, but honestly, you wouldn't blame them if they didn't. The boys looked at each other for a long moment, and you would've sworn that they were communicating telepathically based on all the eyebrow-raising that you were witnessing. Finally, they turned back to you.

"And you're not gonna make a break for it?" Dean asked seriously.

"If I had a free hand, I would cross my heart," you promised. That was all the answer they needed. Mercifully, Dean came over and undid the knots on the ropes one-by-one until you were free. You had to say it was tempting. The thought of running that is. You could bolt out the front door, get into your car, and never come back to this place. The Winchesters would be nothing more than a memory, and you could find a way to make the whole werewolf thing work. But that wasn't who you were. If it was all true, and you really had killed that poor girl, that meant you were capable of killing again. And you weren't willing to put the lives of innocent people on the line just to be selfish. So, instead of "making a break for it," as Dean would say, you stood, went into the kitchen, and poured yourself a large glass of whiskey.

Sam checked his watch anxiously as Dean pulled supplies for the cure from the trunk.

"You think this is gonna work?" he asked his brother. Dean shrugged with a small sigh as he threw a glance back at the house.

"I don't know. It worked for Claire, but I don't know how much that says for Y/N." The boys desperately wanted to be able to help the woman they were getting to know, but the truth was, they didn't know if they could. There was no way of telling how long ago she had been bitten, or who bit her for that matter. Too many variables were unknown.

"At least she hasn't fed," Sam pointed out, always trying to look on the bright side.

"Hasn't she, though?" The sound of the Impala's trunk shutting echoed down the street. "What if she was on her way home from a big feast last night? She could've killed again, and fed before we rain into her. And the cure doesn't work if she's fed, you know that."

"I don't think so," Sam disagreed. "The first girl she killed still had the heart, remember?" Dean put the syringe in his pocket as he glanced around to make sure no one was watching.

"Right, and let's talk about that, by the way, because that's one thing I still don't get. Why leave the heart?" he asked. "Seriously, I mean, you said it yourself. Why rip some girl to shreds and then leave the main course?" Sam shrugged. The truth was, he didn't know. There was a good chance that Y/N had fed, and if that was the case, there was nothing the boys could do. But Madison held a special place in Sam's heart, and Y/N reminded him of her. Even if there was the tiniest chance that she could be cured, Sam was willing to risk it all.

"Maybe..." he began, thinking hard. "Maybe it's primal instinct. What if she just kills in the heat of the moment, and then when the moment's over, she stops?" Dean raised an eyebrow skeptically but didn't interrupt. "Werewolves are territorial. Y/N found that girl in her back yard, right? Maybe she gets defensive, loses control..." Sam trailed off as his brother frowned.

"So, what, she goes all I Was A Teenage Werewolf, and then the human part of her realizes what she did and backs off?"

"Yeah." Dean sighed, passing a hand over his mouth. "I know it's a long shot."

"Yeah, no shit," the older Winchester snorted. What Sam was suggesting went against everything their dad had taught them about werewolves. Werewolves lose control under a full moon, kill, and then eat their victim's heart. That's what they had learned. But then, Sam always had been the one to question their dad's teachings.

"Dean." When Dean met his younger brother's eyes, he was surprised by the amount of emotion they held. "I know it seems like I'm grasping at straws here," he acknowledged. "But if there's a chance that we can save this girl's life, I want to try." Dean nodded as he mulled it over.

"I do, too," he finally admitted. With a heavy breath, he clapped his brother on the shoulder. "All right. Let's do it."

You paced anxiously as you racked your brain for the millionth time, trying to think of something - anything - that would tell you who bit you. The problem was, you had no recollection of ever being in a position where anyone would even be able to bite you. When you looked outside at the sky, you had to force yourself to remember to breathe. You and the Winchesters had spent hours trying to scrape together any hint of a lead, but with no luck. You were running out of time.

"How long do we have until the moon rises?" you asked quietly. Sam glanced down at his watch.

"About ten minutes." Practically collapsing onto your couch, you buried your face in your hands as you forced back tears. One of the cushions sank down next to you, and a comforting hand rubbed circles on your back.

"You're gonna be all right," Dean reassured you. It was sweet of him to say that, but you knew he was probably lying through his teeth. How in the hell was any of this going to turn out "all right?" You shook your head and stood again, resuming your nervous pacing.

"Y/N, Dean and I are going to stay right here with you until we figure this out. No matter how long it takes," Sam promised. Dean nodded his agreement.

"That's right." This felt like the end of the world. You knew Sam and Dean weren't going to shoot you unless they had to, but... when it came down to it, they might have to. You sat down on your dining room chair, which was still sitting in the center of the room.

"Tie me up," you ordered. When both boys only looked at you in surprise, you clenched your jaw frustratedly. "Please just do it. It'll make me feel a lot better." As the boys complied, you looked out the window again. The sky had grown darker, and the sun was moments away from dipping below the horizon entirely. You had to bite back tears again. This was by far the most terrifying moment of your life.

"Sam, time check?" You could tell the boys were starting to feel just as anxious as you were.

"Seven minutes." Great. Seven minutes until you transformed into a homicidal monster.

"Does it happen right away?" you asked. Dean, who was crouched in front of you, tying your ankles, patted your knee.

"It's different for everyone," he explained. "Some people turn right away,  but for others, it can take some time." Your bottom lip trembled as you let out a shaky breath. There were so many thoughts going through your head. Should you have called your family earlier? Was turning going to be painful? You looked around your house, trying to take it all in for what you were terrified was going to be the last time. As you looked around, your gaze landed on the bowl of soup that Chloe had brought you yesterday, long forgotten on the kitchen counter. ...Chloe. Wait. Something tugged in the back of your brain, and you focused hard. Small flashes of a memory you didn't know you had popped up in your thoughts, and you felt your heart drop into your stomach.

"Oh, my God." Dean froze mid-knot, and both boys looked at you in alarm. You remembered how your motion-sensor light had been turning on and off by itself a few nights ago, and how you had gone outside in the darkness to check it out.

"What?" Sam asked, coming over to crouch next to his brother. You remembered how a creature from a nightmare had attacked you and knocked you to the ground when you tried to run. "Y/N, what is it?" You remembered the creature sinking its fangs into the back of your shoulder. And you remembered that you saw its face. Forcing yourself back into the moment, you locked eyes with the boys, unable to believe what your memory was telling you.

"It's Chloe," you said shakily. "My neighbor Chloe, she's the one that bit me!"

"And you're sure?" Sam asked. You nodded.

"I'm positive." Sam turned his attention to his brother.

"You stay here with her," he instructed. "I've got this one." Dean nodded and handed him a syringe from his pocket.

"Be careful." You wanted to be relieved, but you knew you still weren't out of the woods just yet. There was no telling if Sam would get back with the cure in time, but even if he did, you were still looking at a 10% survival rate. Not the most encouraging chances. You glanced at Dean, who was lost in thought. 

"Dean?" He snapped out of his reverie, fixing you with a kind smile.

"You hangin' in okay, princess?" You could say yes, but that would be a lie, and he wouldn't believe you anyway.

"No," you replied. "I'm scared." Dean rubbed your arm.

"I'd be worried if you weren't," he said honestly. The two of you sat in the heavy silence for a while longer before you spoke again.

"How long do I have?" The man in front of you rolled up his sleeve to check his watch, letting out a heavy breath as he did so.

"Two minutes." This was it. Two minutes until the moon began its ascent. You couldn't hold back your tears this time as they started to well up again.

"Dean," you choked out. "If I try to hurt you, I want you to kill me. I don't know if Sam's going to make it back in time, and-"

"Hey, none of that," he cut you off. "You're gonna be fine." You laughed.

"You know as well as I do that I probably won't live to see the sunrise tomorrow morning. And that scares the hell out of me," you confessed with a sniffle. "It does. But if there's any chance that I could hurt you, or Sam, or anyone else, I need you to end it." Dean got quiet, unable to meet your eyes. "Dean, please," you begged. "This might be the last chance I get to do something good for the rest of the world." Before Dean could reply, his watch beeped.

"Moon's on the rise," he informed you. You already knew. You could feel it.

For the first ten minutes after the moon started to rise, Dean could tell that Y/N was starting to feel its pull. She was significantly more fidgety - as if she was uncomfortable in her own skin.

"It's happening," Y/N called out with a sharp intake of breath. With those two words, Dean was back at her side in an instant, unsure if there was really anything he could do to help her. She pulled against the ropes as she began to write in pain, her breathing coming faster now.

"Come on, Y/N, you can fight this," Dean coached, although he knew she probably couldn't. "Just listen to the sound of my voice, and-" Y/N threw her head back with a pained scream. "Y/N. Y/N!" Her body trembled as her breathing continued to pick up. But then, she slouched forward, and it all stopped. Dean took a cautious step back. "Y/N?" Y/N's head snapped up, but it wasn't the young woman he recognized. Baring her fangs at him, she let out an angry roar. "Son of a bitch."

With a single, effortless pull, Y/N stood from the dining room chair, and the ropes that held her in place snapped. With another guttural growl, she launched herself at Dean, who was able to narrowly avoid her. The silver bullet still in Y/N's shoulder definitely slowed her down, but not by very much. As she charged Dean again, he took advantage of her momentum, slamming her hard into the wall behind him. She fell to the ground with a hard thud, looking dazed. "Sorry, Y/N." When her eyes locked in on Dean again, he reached for his phone to tell Sam to hurry up, but he wasn't quick enough. Y/N tackled him to the floor, and the phone skittered just out of his reach, effectively foiling any plan of calling Sam. As she pinned him to the floor, Dean remembered what she said: If I try to hurt you, I want you to kill me. Dean's gun was easily within his grasp. He could pump a round of silver into her, and this would all be over with. But he couldn't. "Y/N," he said, though he knew she couldn't hear him. "I don't want to hurt you!" She loomed over Dean, her fangs grew dangerously close to his skin as he tried to push her off. Suddenly, though, Y/N let out a yelp of pain, and Dean was able to get away, where he saw the unmistakable syringe sticking out of her back. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding as he looked over at his younger brother.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Dean answered. "Good timing."

The next morning, you were already feeling immediately better, aside from the bullet wound that Sam had just finished stitching up. Dean was still in the living room, cleaning up from last night.

"So," you said as you helped Sam pack up the trunk. "From what Dean tells me, you saved his ass last night." Sam chuckled good-naturedly in response.

"Yeah, I guess I did." You gave his arm a fond pat. When you looked over at Chloe's house, you couldn't help but sigh.

"What about Chloe?" you asked. Sam gave a grave nod.

"Dean and I took care of it last night after we made you get some sleep. When the FBI - the real FBI - comes asking, just tell them you saw her the day before yesterday, but not since. After they figure out there's nothing for them to find, they should leave you alone." A cool breeze passed over the two of you, making you draw your jacket in closer around yourself. You couldn't even begin to say how relieved you were that you were still alive.

"How you feelin', Y/N?" Dean asked as he brought another armload of stuff to the trunk. Giving him a cheeky grin in response, you shrugged.

"I'm sort of craving an extra rare steak," you admitted. "But other than that, I think I'll live, thanks to you two."

"I'm just glad the cure worked," Sam said. You nodded your agreement.

"Me, too. You guys headed out now, or do you want to stay for some coffee or something?" Dean shook his head.

"Nah, we've gotta hit the road." You knew you couldn't expect them to stay, what with having to save the world and all, but you had grown a bit attached to the two men over the past twenty-four hours. Before they could object (not that you thought they would), you wrapped an arm around each of them, squeezing tightly.

"Thank you both so much," you whispered. As they were getting into the car, Dean handed you a card with a phone number on it.

"I know it says Agent Russel," he said, "but it's still my number. You ever need anything, just call." You gave a lazy salute, shooting Sam a wink as he smiled at you from the passenger window.

"You got it, agents." And then the boys were gone, leaving you to your thoughts as you went back into the house. Maybe now you could finally enjoy what was left of your vacation. The past few days had been crazy, but you had to say - being a werewolf for Halloween had been interesting to say in the least.

Thank you all so much for reading! Happy (late) Halloween!

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[shockwrites]

A Touch of Blue, A Smidge of Pink

Author’s Note: Domestic nonsense is good for the soul

Series: Sonic the Hedgehog

Pairing: Sonic/Amy Rose (Sonamy)

Length: 2080 words

Rating: Safe

Mornings suck.

That was the mantra of Amy Rose.

A mantra she repeated as she dragged herself out of a losing battle with the comfort of her pillow. A mantra she recited as she lazily brushed her teeth. A mantra she droned as she brewed her regular morning coffee.

“Mornin’ Ames!”

A mantra that apparently meant nothing to her bright-eyed, bushy tailed boyfriend as he strolled into the kitchen. Sonic, as per usual, was clad in his regular jogging attire - red sweat-shirt and those goofy looking shorts. She honestly had no idea what possessed him to even buy those but she was glad to have a few chuckles whenever she saw him wearing them.

“Ughhhnnffgh.”

“Gonna assume that means ‘G’Morning, Sonic!’” he mocked in falsetto. Amy rolled her eyes with a smile before they widened at the plate of fresh cooked bacon and eggs he slid in front of her. “‘Gee, Sonic! I do appreciate y’all cooking breakfast fer me!’”

“Since when do I have a country accent?”

He grinned with that dumb look on his face before planting a kiss on her forehead. “Since now. I’ll be back before lunch!”

Sonic jogged out the door, energetic and happy as can be. Amy was left in the fumes of a thoughtfully cooked breakfast. She briefly considered altering her daily mantra.

Mornings suck…when your roommate isn’t a total dork.

--

Every drawer,

Every closet,

Every dresser,

Empty.

He could’ve sworn he had it. He knew because he always made sure to wash it separate from Amy’s clothes. His girlfriend never did let him live down those pink shorts…

Sonic sifted through every inch of the apartment. The place was fairly small. It shouldn’t have been that hard to find, right? So why was it missing? He scratched his quills, baffled as he finished sorting through another pile of clothes scattered on the floor. Or did he already go through this one? Was he just rooting in circles the whole time? How were they even able to fit so many clothes in such a tiny space?

The click of the door interrupted Sonic’s muddled brain. With a sigh, Amy strolled  “I’m home, Sonic! I bought chili-”

“Amy!”

“-dogs…”

In a burst of speed not unlike the hedgehog’s namesake, Sonic rushed towards her. The look he gave her was that of one slowly slipping off into insanity. He caught her off guard, clutching at both her shoulders.

“Amy, have you seen my shirt?!” he babbled, going on about rummaging through the apartment, how he could’ve sworn he had it in the closet of their shared room. Sonic’s ranting would’ve continued had he not taken a closer look at the girl’s clothes.

A white, short sleeved shirt, just about a few sizes bigger than her, and on it was a promo art for his favorite movie: Chao in Space 2: Perfect Chaos Strikes Back. Sonic scrutinized her, not out of malice or anger. In fact, she looked rather adorable in it. “Oh, this shirt?” Amy blushed when he continued to stare dumbly at her. “You don’t mind if I wear it today do yo-“

“Nope.”

--

“You guys have tampons?”

The cashier raised an eyebrow. Sonic, the owner of the said question didn’t even bat an eye as the phrase left his mouth.

“Uhh, yeah. Aisle 6…” the clerk answered awkwardly. He didn’t expect the hedgehog to utter something many males never dared to.

“Kay, cool.”

He especially didn’t expect him to just directly stroll down to the exact aisle he pointed to. Most guys would circle around the store for a bit, look like they were gonna buy other things before the fact. The cashier side-eyed him. He just casually picked up the box and is walking to the register! Easy-going smile and relaxed attitude to boot.

He really shouldn’t be prying into the lives of customers but he needed to know. Amazed at his boldness, the cashier asked, “Girlfriend?”

Absentmindedly, Sonic looked up from getting the money from his wallet. “Oh, yeah! Just buying ‘em in advance for when the week rolls around.”

“Y’know, not a lot of guys are awful calm ‘bout getting these.”

“Why? They’re just tampons.” He was being sincere. Like genuinely sincere.

“Oh.” was the only thing the clerk could reply and Sonic barely paid any mind. Now it was his turn to be embarrassed. He awkwardly bagged the box of tampons, realizing he was a bit too amazed. “Th-thank you, sir. Have a pleasant day…”

“Thanks!” Sonic waved and went about his merry way.

To whoever the lucky girl was, he was a keeper.

--

“Open.”

“Mmmm…”

“Open your mouth, Sonic.”

“Mmmmmmmmm…”

“You’re not going to get better if you keep acting like a baby.”

He grumbled. In annoyed reluctance, Sonic followed the order and allowed Amy to shove whatever green concoction was on that spoon into his mouth. His gag reflex kicked in sooner than he anticipated.

“Ackpthh!!” The bedridden hog sputtered. His taste buds cried out in agony. A myriad of flavors hit his tongue all at once yet they were all horrible. Sonic forced the rancid liquid down his throat, plopping himself back onto his pillow.

“Amy,” he rasped between sniffles, “that tasted like the bastard child of cyanide and nightmares.” His sinuses were clogged and cheeks were red.

The pink one huffed. “Oh don’t be so dramatic! It’s a home remedy for the flu!”

“Tha flu, or an exorcism?” he reeled back from her instant glare. Before he could open his mouth again, Amy responded with a thermometer shoved into his mouth. He really should know better than to insult her cooking. “Sthowwy.”

“Yeah, you better be,” Amy grumbled. “No more jogging for you today.”

Sonic weakly tried to complain but it was probably for the best. He could imagine how horrible such a thing would be – nearly passing out from an inability to breathe properly, that annoying raspy feeling that would never go away no matter how much water he drank, the splitting headaches that would follow. Yikes.

Reading the thermometer, Amy palmed his forehead. “101. Looks like a fever.” Softly, she tucked him further into his bed. “You’re gonna have to take it easy for today, Sonic.”

“Yeah, ok fine.” He coughed, turning to his side on his pillow.

Amy cracked a small smirk. He was almost looked cute like that, resting his cheek against his pillow. Oh, who was she kidding – he is cute like that, snuggled up like a little baby. Her little baby. “Want some soup?”

“Chicken noodle please?”

She chuckled. “Sure.”

“And a movie?”

“Of course.”

They both smiled sweetly at each other in silence. Sonic couldn’t appreciate her more, always willing to take care of him no matter how annoying he was.Just as Amy was about to return to the kitchen, the sick boyfriend chirped once more.

“Hey, Ames?”

She turned to him once again, catching that goofy grin across his lips.

“I love you.”

Amy chuckled, returning that same grin. “Love you too.”

--

“Video games?”

“Nah.”

Sonic never seemed to find a cure for Sundays. Chores are done, weekend festivities are finished, and there was nothing left to do.

“TV?”

“Ehhhhhhh.”

Nothing left but stare aimlessly into space, sprawled across the couch. His brain vegetating by the second. Amy too had joined in his layabout wallowing. Her boredom, while not on the same level as her lover’s, had needed to be quelled, lest they spend the remainder of Pre-Monday at the mercy of the painted white ceiling.

“Wanna make out?”

“N-”

Sonic paused, momentarily trapped in time and space. The hamster wheel in his brain needed to work overtime just to process the sentence. A proper response would’ve given Mr. Chewy a heart attack.

“Ayeeaugh”

Take two:

“Erm…y-yes?”

--

Amy’s “hair” always fascinated Sonic.

It wasn’t really hair, much rather quills. Shorter than his, yet they were freer. He’d run his fingers through them numerous times, never once tiring of its feeling.

On the nights they spooned each other to sleep, Sonic relished the touch of her hair against his face. Her rosy scent never failing to lull him to sleep.

And on mornings, during those rare occasions where she wakes up before him, he’d watch her brush it. With an arm propped and facing her back, Sonic watched each careful stroke. He approached, a playful hug from behind and a groggy ‘good morning’ exchanged between them.

He’d embrace her and kiss her, yet he’d always take careful heed not to ruin her precious hair.

--

Sonic hated snow.

The biting cold. Annoyingly slippery ice. Having to wear coats that make you look like a walking marshmallow. It was horrible. Under usual circumstances, he wouldn’t bother taking another step in that white hellscape.

“Come on, Sonic! Let’s go get some hot chocolate!”

But this wasn’t a usual circumstance.

“I’m coming, I’m co-OOF!” Sonic’s face was immediately met with chilling slosh. Blasted ice. Of course, his thick layers of jackets made getting up a chore all on its own. The heavy sheet of liquid-solid-death was already starting to engulf him.

“Help.”

His girlfriend was at least able to see the humor in his fumble when he couldn’t. Hiding her snickers, she helped him to his feet, preferably away from the patches of ice. She regarded him with a teasing smile.

“Why can’t we just have hot chocolate inside?” Sonic pleaded. “In the warmth? In our comfortable apartment? Away from this,” he kicked the nearest pile of snow, only to instantly regret it when the cold substance seeped into his shoe. “STUFF OF SATAN.”

Amy felt bad about it but she couldn’t help but giggle at how he frantically wiggled his leg to get the melting snow away from his sock. “It’s not that bad!” she consoled. “I mean, look at how pretty it is outside!” she looked above, calmly enjoying the beautiful display of falling flakes from the sky.

Sonic instead, shivered in place, a sour grimace on his face (along with the freezing cold snow-now-turned-moisture). “It’s bitter out…”

Amy responded by wrapping her scarf around them both, pulling the two hedgehogs together. “Well, it’s sweeter with you here.” She sang playfully.

Her words dropped with a loving smile adorned on her lips. Sonic pouted. It was difficult to be unpleasant and suffering in the presence of such a ray of sunshine. He tried nonetheless.

“…Amy, that is the corniest thing you’ve ever said.”

“You lo~ve it.”

And failed miserably.

“Yeah, I do.” Sonic draped an arm around her shoulder as they walked.

Suddenly, fresh hot chocolate outside didn’t seem so bad.

--

Sonic lost track of the time passed.

He was normally a heavy sleeper, nothing short of his girlfriend able to properly wake him when asleep. Now wasn’t one of those times.

Sonic twisted to his side, greeted by his lovely rose, their limbs entangled and cuddled gently. As he watched her peaceful slumber, Sonic’s mind raced a mile a minute. Useless thoughts normally abuzz in his brain, next morning’s breakfast, who’s turn it is for doing dishes, those piles of clothes Amy always nagged him to clean.

Amy.

The pink hedgehog had a penchant for barging into his mind. She always knew where that key was. Not that he minded in the slightest. Sonic loved her. He hadn’t found a specific reason why – he just did. Her beautiful looks, her boundless care for him, his desire to just make her happy. All factors in his need to love her.

Sonic flashed back to his youth; his awkward pre-teen years and his uncertainty in his preferences. The pink hedgehog came into his life around that time, somehow leaving him more confused. She was a persistent one, he gave her that much. She chased him with admirable gusto and determination. With age came maturity and eventually, bonds and friendships strengthened.

Now here they were; sharing an apartment, coddling each other well past midnight. Sonic could almost laugh at how his situation escalated. Even then, he had no regrets. Assuming he even had time for any.

Sonic patted Amy’s delicate locks. He held her close, feeling as though she’d disappear from him in an instant if he let go. Subconsciously, she returned the hug, pulling herself tighter to his chest. Their warmth combined comfortably, leaving them both in comfort neither would dare give up.

It wasn’t until then did he realize what he’d woken up for in the first place.

“I have to pee.”