#today I slid to a cabinet but I somehow hit the one single spot not covered by stuff with my left knee so I got my left knee with tile.

[arazialotis]

Every Time You Leave, I Hit Rock Bottom

A/N: Written in celebration for Angelina! @atc74​ A while ago she celebrated 4,000 followers and 4 years on tumblr! Can you believe it?! Congratulations girl!! If you aren’t following her, do it now! You won’t be disappointed. For the duet challenge, I chose Rock Bottom (Hailee Steinfeld & DNCE) for inspiration. Give it a listen to get in the mood and let me know how I did. 

Word Count: 2050

Summary: Scenes from the up and downs of Dean and Y/N’s relationship as they struggle to balance his life as a hunter. 

Warnings: arguing, swearing, a hint of smut, implied cheating

****

***November 5***

“Do you love me?” You cooed in the aftermath of a passionate heat. 

He chuckled, as if your question was absurd. He swam through the tangle of sheets to kiss your lips. “Of course I do.” 

Though you doubted his faithfulness, he had sworn it to you. He laid his head against your chest. His hand found yours. The ring he had given you months earlier twirled gently as his fingers danced over it. 

“I’m gonna miss you.” You admitted stroking your fingers through his hair. 

You felt him hum in delight.

“I always miss you.” 

*** November 30***

White flecks fell outside the window, joining a hefty covering on the ground. The snow muffled the sounds of the night, making the world seem at peace. Your arms held you tight, waiting for him to finish shoveling the drive. The flyer clenched in your fist crinkled as you contemplated the best way to bring it up with Dean. 

He came in, a burling heap of wool and snow, his cheeks red from the blistering cold. You hustled back to the kitchen, pretending not to have lingered. The hot toddies you prepared were still steaming. You whisked in a drizzle of honey. 

Dean made his way over to you, brushing snowflakes out of his hair. Your heart warmed seeing a boyish look to him.

“What?” He matched your smile. 

“Nothing.” You smirked and pushed his mug closer to him. You pressed your own to your lips. “You’re cute.” 

“You’re cute.” He repeated, gently kissing your forehead before taking the hot drink. He set his drink back down, the flyer on the counter catching his eye. “What’s this?”

You took another sip, concealing the flush to your cheeks. “Hmm.”

His eyes darted back and forth, scanning the paper. “It looks like Dan’s Auto is hiring.” 

“Oh.” You set your mug down, moving closer to him, wrapping your arm around his waist, pretending to read with him though you already knew the words. “You’d be good at something like that.”

If he knew what you were doing, he didn’t hint at it. “Yeah, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck, setting the flyer back down and went back to the tea. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to get more information.” You nudged. 

He smiled and leaned into you. “Right now, I just want to get warm.” He nipped at your neck. 

You chuckled, as heat and desire spread through you. You let the conversation end for now. 

*** December 12 ***

Dean stumbled into the bedroom late at night. He’d been gone a week and a half. At first you thought he was drunk, but when your eyes adjusted to the dark, panic rose up into your chest. You scrambled out of bed and followed him into the bathroom. 

“You’re hurt.” Your eyes went wide with fear.

He balled up his flannel and threw it in the sink, the water turning red with blood. Three long slashes ran from his shoulder down his arm. “It's fine.” “We need to get you to a hospital.” You stammered.

Before you could run for the keys he caught your wrist, stopping you. “With what insurance?” “God. I don’t know, we’ll figure it out later.” You pulled your arm away from his grip. 

“It’s fine.” He assured, sitting down on the edge of the bath. 

You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths. “Okay.” Somehow you managed to force the panic down. “Okay.” You repeated, going for the medicine cabinet, looking for gauze, alcohol, anything that could help. 

*** December 19 ***

“You’re not going back out!” You stomped your foot on the ground like a toddler who had no chance at winning an argument. 

He shook his head and chuckled as if to contain his anger. “Your arm was nearly ripped off a week ago!” You continued, attempting to make him see logic. “You're in no condition to hunt.” 

He threw his duffel bag over his shoulder. “I’ve had worse Y/N. Anyways, it's recovering just fine.”

Fine. You hated that word. It was if he used it to cover up any indifference growing in your relationship. You went to strike him, only to prove him wrong. His hand caught you before you could. “Are you fucking serious?” He accused you, disdain seething out of his eyes. He pushed you aside and went for the door. 

The worry balled up, forming a pit in your stomach. Staying with you until he returned. 

*** January 3 ***

“Don’t give me that look Y/N.” Dean could feel your scorn through the dark bedroom, dimly lit by the full moon’s beam. 

“What look?” You huffed. You had woken to rustling and the spot next to you cold. He was planning to leave you. Again. You had stayed silent, watching him pack, waiting for him to realize you were awake. 

“Y/N.” He groaned. “Don’t do this, not now.”

“I’m not doing anything Dean.” You argued back. 

He sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to reason with you with anger. Releasing his own, he gently crawled onto the bed, creeping towards you. You flipped over, avoiding his gaze and pulled the blankets into a shield around you. 

His breath was on the back of your neck. He spoke in a whisper. “You’re resenting me.” He kissed the back of your head. “You’re pouting.” Another kiss. He paused hearing a whimper. “And now you are crying.” He laid down and pulled you tight against his chest, a tear sliding down his own cheek. 

When you finally found courage to speak, your voice shook. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“Babe… you know I have to.”

You turned around to meet him. “No, you don’t.”

His thumb wiped away a trailing tear against your skin. “Who else is going to do it?”

“... Sam.” “He’s across the country. ‘Sides, it’s only a state over. I’ll be a week, tops.” He kissed your forehead before getting up to finish packing. 

You didn’t turn to watch him leave. You only stared at the empty pillow next to yours. He left the door cracked open. It wasn’t until you heard the front door shut and the rumble of his car coming to life when the anger surfaced again. 

Gently grabbing for his pillow, wrapping your arms around it and burying your face in his scent, you whispered,“Fuck you.”

*** Valentine’s ***

Traditionally, the holiday hadn’t meant much to you. A way to push over priced Hallmark cards with clashing colors. But Dean was home, and so recently he hadn’t been. You fussed around the kitchen in a little black dress, concealing something skimpy and lacy underneath. Filet mignon sizzled against hot cast iron and a cherry pie bubbled in the oven. Dean shuffled behind you. You turned around hoping to be met with a kiss. Instead you saw that dreaded duffel bag. 

“No.” Your heart sank. “Not today.” 

He gave you that look. The look that said, this is what you sign up for.

“Can it at least be after dinner?” You pleaded. 

He sighed, running his hand through his hair, contemplating it for a second. “The longer I wait, the more someone could get hurt.”

You’re hurting me, you thought to yourself. It was selfish though. You closed your eyes and hung your head in defeat. 

He strided closer to you, planted a kiss onto your forehead and pulled you close to him. 

“We’ll celebrate when I get home. K?” 

You nodded into his chest.

*** February 25 ***

“You just got home. And you’re already leaving again!” You fumed. 

“What choice do I have!?” Dean clenched his jaw, attempting to control his temper. 

The nearest object to you was his phone. You picked it up and threw it at him. He easily caught it, avoiding any blow you intended. “Call someone else to take it. Don’t go. Take that job at the shop. Those are your choices Dean!” 

“This is my job Y/N! This is the only life I know. I can’t sit around here, with a white picket fence, knowing people are out there are dying on my watch.” 

“Then take me with you!” You pleaded. “I can’t keep watching you leave, not knowing if you’ll come back or not.” Tears threatened to spill out. 

“Like hell!” He firmly protested. “I won’t put you in harm’s way.” 

You rolled your eyes. “God, I wish you realized how hypocritical you sound right now. Can’t you realize that's how I feel every single time.”

“I can take care of myself.” He thumped against his chest. “I always have. And I don’t need your whiny, nagging ass causing extra stress on a hunt.” 

A feral scream escaped from your throat. You slid off the ring he had given to you months earlier and chucked it across the room at him. He didn’t bother to catch it. “Fuck off Dean. You might as well not bother coming home.” 

“Maybe I won’t then!”  He grabbed his bag, slamming the door shut with a bang. 

*** March 4 ***

“I’m so sorry baby.” Dean’s gasped. His mouth buried into the crook of your neck. Your fingers ran down his bare torso as he rocked into you. “I’ll never leave you again.” 

You moaned as your bodies clashed against each other, moving together, beads of sweat outlining each muscle. He groaned, his kisses growing more hungry and desperate as he neared a climax.  A whimper escaped your lips and sent him over the edge. He buried his face into your shoulder, panting for air. 

With a final grunt, he was satisfied, leaving you empty and craving for more. He rolled over on his back catching his breath. 

“God. I needed that.” He ran his fingers through his hair before getting up for a water break. 

You turned over to your side, pulling up a sheet to cover yourself. ‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep.’

*** April 10 ***

To be fair, he did stay longer than usual. But the itch got to him. One he couldn’t help but scratch. You knew it was coming. He became more antsy. Pacing around, working on mundane house projects, spending more time outside. Honestly, it was making you anxious.

You began searching for cold cases in the area, drawing out farther until something seemed to fit. Over dinner, you handed him the phone to look over the articles. He kept his expression as blank as he could. 

“What do you think?” You prompted. 

He set the phone down and searched your eyes, treading lightly. “Could be a case.” He went back pushing food around his plate but not eating. 

You dabbed your mouth with a napkin, and then cleared your plate, washing it in the sink. “Maybe…” You sighed. “Maybe, you should look into it.” 

He came up behind you, turning off the water, and wrapping his arms around you. You both stood there for several minutes, your heartbeats matching in rhythm.

His whisper barely broke the silence. “Are you sure?”

You only nodded. 

He gently kissed the side of your temple. “Love you.” He slipped away. 

“Love you too.” *** May 8 ***

“Who the fuck was that Dean?!”

“Nobody!” He yelled back into his cell. “Like Hell!” A scoff made it through your seething anger.  

“It was just the TV, Y/N.” He calmed his voice, to try and reason with you. “Bullshit!” Your blood began to boil. “She was right fucking next to you!” 

“Stop being so fucking paranoid. You’re my one and only.” You heard the rustling of sheets. 

You made your way through the dark hall to the medicine cabinet, looking for something to cool a rising migraine. “Then prove it.” “What?” He stuttered. 

“Prove it! Give me a face-time tour of your hotel room.” You popped the bottle and swallowed a few pills. 

His voice lowered to a rigid growl. “I don’t have to prove anything to you. If you love me, you’ll trust me.”

You slammed your phone shut and threw it across the room. 

*** May 11 ***

Dean entered the home, ready for a fight. He slammed the door on the way in and tossed his key’s onto the kitchen counter. 

“Why haven’t you been taking my calls?” He called out, waiting a few moments before going to look for you. “Y/N?” His voice echoed through the empty house. “What the hell?” He muttered to himself. 

He paced down the hallway, calling your name again. Upon entering the bedroom, it became abundantly clear. He ripped open the closet door, and stood back. Only his items remained. 

***

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[sserpente]

A/N: Request from @inlovewithnovels. Tony is kind of an arsehole in this one. It just happened, I needed a culprit. & I heard strange noises in my room while writing this. Not cool. Not cool at all.

16th October: Scare pranks. 👻 | feat. Loki

Words: 1679 Warnings: demons, mentions of exorcism, blood, gore and death, panic attack

Tony called you the Prankster Queen, for you were invincible. Every single year, when Halloween was just around the corner, you scared the shit out of the Avengers, laughing to yourself every time they jumped and shrieked. It was quite the dangerous hobby, after all, most of them very skilled assassins who could accidentally kill you but still, it was way too much fun to see them flinch.

This year, fate had even given you two new victims. Thor, God of Thunder himself and his brother Loki. You had decided you would approach him with precaution only, for you knew they did not call him Trickster for no reason. Managing to scare him would prove to be quite difficult but you were determined to succeed, especially since you admired the man… or god, for that matter. He was skilled, fighting alongside you in battles—his swift and elegant movements fast and precise but what impressed you the most was how he fought with words. Silver tongue… there was a reason for that nickname too.

Most importantly, however, was that you trusted him. It was illogical and against all reason, this much the rest of the Avengers had told you but there was something about him that intrigued you.

“Shit! For Christ’s sake, (Y/N)!” Wanda screamed, a red streak of magic shooting from her hands to hit the clown doll you had hid in one of the kitchen cabinets. It was a cliché, really but it simply worked every single year for at least one of the Avengers.

“What? What is it?!” It was Loki who came storming into the kitchen, alarmed and ready to pounce on an attacker. What he found instead was you giggling quietly all the while Wanda tossed the clown out of the window before getting that glass of water.

“Nothing, Trickster. Just a scare prank,” you reassured him with a wink, wriggling your eyebrows before leaving the room. Wanda only growled angrily in response when Loki followed you.

“It’s the same shit every year.” Tony tossed in. He entered the room with a newspaper in hand and clearly, he was not amused by your mischief. Loki was enough, he didn’t need you pulling pranks all over again but his dismay didn’t bother you—in fact, it actually entertained you. It made scaring him a lot more exciting.

“What are you—“

“Shut up, Loki!” Tony yelled. It was then you realised he had talked to someone behind you. Lifting an eyebrow rather unimpressed, you turned around to see Clint wearing a Scream mask.

“Very scary, Clint, really,” you confirmed, patting his shoulder. “And thanks for the warning, Trickster. They’ve been trying to scare me ever since I moved here but thus far—no luck.” Shrugging, you giggled once more, causing the God of Mischief to tilt his head in fascination.

“I’ll be in my room then. Call me if you spot any of my monsters.” You teased right before strolling away so proudly you felt like a queen.

You stayed up late that night. Most of the horror movies you liked to watch were not broadcasted until after midnight, so, after making yourself comfortable in the living room with a cup of tea and a bowl of popcorn, you looked forward to a relaxing movie night, not expecting any disturbances at all.

Well, that was until you suddenly heard a strange noise. A demonic and eerie howling from behind the sofa, yet when you turned around to check, you saw nothing.

It didn’t scare you that in that very moment, Loki bolted into the room, his expression frightened, terrified.

“What’s the matter?” You asked with a frown, leaning forward slightly.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“That noise. A screeching, shrieking… a voice maybe?” He was being frantic as he stepped closer.

“Maybe. Just now. Probably just an animal outside. Why?”

“Thor and Banner just examined that box SHIELD retrieved from HYDRA, you remember it?”

Nodding, you finally stood, crossing your arms in suspicion. You did not like the direction this conversation took. That box Loki was talking about had ancient inscriptions carved into it and Wanda had quite recently confirmed she sensed something evil living within it. Whether it was a vengeful spirit or a demon of any kind, you did not know. You were only certain that you wanted to stay away from that hazardous box as best as you could. There was only one thing in the world that scared the shit out of you… and it was demons.

“They managed to open it and Wanda suspects they set free some kind of poltergeist. A demon, if you want to say so,” Loki continued, looking around the room anxiously. “She assumes that if we are not careful, it will possess one of us to—“

The God of Mischief paused, his blue eyes rolling to the back of his head, being yanked forward as if he had been hit by an invisible force, causing you to jump. No… no, this was not happening, not again!

Panicking, your breathing quickened, your limbs shaking with the sudden fear cursing through your body.

“L-Loki?”

When he looked at you again… his eyes were blood red. You screamed. You screamed in agony and dread, thrashing wildly when he tried to get ahold of you.

“Help! Help me! Somebody help me!” Your throat was burning but you did not care. You fought and punched and scratched, even bit at whatever body part of Loki was near you until finally, you managed to flee all the while bursting into tears.

Your legs had turned to jelly. It was almost impossible to make it to your room and lock it right before hiding under the blanket like you had all those years ago when you were young. You were trembling, crying, fighting your panic attack.

Soon, your pillow was soaked with hot and salty tears. It was quiet. An uncomfortable silence had spread in your room when suddenly, you heard voices right outside of it. Only mere seconds passed until you recognised Clint’s voice. He was talking to… Loki. Did he not know the Trickster was possessed? You had to warn him!

“Go talk to her and apologise or I swear to God, I’ll drive an arrow through your skull.”

“How could I have known she would react this intensely? It was supposed to scare her a little. I never intended to frighten her this much.” What? Had he planned this? Had it been… a joke?! Instantly, your fear slid away to make space for hot and spicy anger boiling in your stomach. You were still too weak for this strong emotion though. Your tears did not stop streaming down your face and tainting your reddened cheeks.

You had trusted him and now… I should have listened to them.

“A little, Loki? Do you even know… just go talk to her.”

The door opened, with Loki walking in so devotedly you doubted it was actually him. He was… sad when you peeked out from under your blanket shield, still suspicious of what had happened.

“(Y/N), I am so sorry.”

“What did you do?” You began carefully, your voice breaking. “Was this just a trick?”

The God of Mischief nodded. “Yes.”

“How could you do that?” You whispered, attempting not to sob as you spoke. Sighing, he sat down on the edge of your bed.

“When you said that no one has been able to scare you, I took it as a challenge.” He explained simply.

“There is only one thing I am afraid of. How did you even know?”

“I asked Stark and he told me it was demons. I could not know you have actually experienced…  and he did not tell me that… I am so sorry, (Y/N).”

Years ago, when you were younger, you had lived in a huge mansion with your grandmother and sister. Eerie noises, similar to what you had heard today, had disturbed you day and night until one day, your grandmother checked the attic to find out where the creepy noises were coming from, only to have a demon possess her soul.

Your sister had called an exorcist when her eyes turned blood red while she was baking cookies for you, attempting to mix poison into the dough. At the age of only eleven, you had witnessed her being torn apart by an exorcist—you had seen blood, you had seen gore and you had seen her die.

It was the reason you enjoyed horror movies so much, for somehow, they helped you deal with the trauma you had carried away. If it was unreal in movies… then maybe it had been unreal in your life as well.

You couldn’t hold back your sob this time. Crying heartbreakingly, you flung yourself into his arms, straddling him like a little child. Loki immediately wrapped you in a tight hug, holding you close and rocking back and forth, even whispering sweet nothings into your ear before resting his chin on your hair.

In this very moment, you felt protected. Loki would not let anything bad happen to you, even if he had just abused your trust.

“I am so sorry, (Y/N)…” he mumbled again and again until you finally calmed.

“Promise me that you will never do something like that again, Loki.”

“I promise. No, I swear it. I never meant to harm you. I appreciate your trust, after all, you are the only one around here who treats me decently. I am so sorry.”

Nodding, you let him press a gentle kiss on your forehead before you nuzzled into him, breathing in the alluring smell of leather and metal. You believed him. You believed he was truly sorry for what he had done and the fact that he did warmed your heart and scared away the last bits of your fear.

Perhaps his failed scare prank had done some good after all. It had helped you realise you had feelings for this unbelievable god.

You fell asleep with a serene sigh escaping your lips.

[prompt-master]

Fireworks Have Been Claimed By The Gays