US Elevation.

Soft and Light & Dark and Hard

Warnings: Implied Smut. Some dirty talk.  Purgatory!Dean. (Look at that gif - it needs a warning!) Canon type violence.

Summary: What happened between when Dean popped out of purgatory and when he resurrected Benny. There's a "four days later" section of time that is unaccounted for. This is my attempt to fill that time.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader (Y/N)

Word Count: 2685

A/N: This was an idea that wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it.

I LOVE Purgatory!Dean. Hope you enjoy - there might be a sequel.

😉 Unbeta’d. All mistakes are mine. 😊

Y/N’s dad would have been very disappointed in her. She was no hunter, he’d made sure of that, but he’d certainly taught her to keep her wits about her and made sure she knew how to protect herself.

Yet, here she was, slammed against the cabin wall, with what felt like a band of iron at her throat. The man’s forearm wasn’t crushing her windpipe, but it was pressing hard enough that if she struggled at all, she would crush it herself. She was made completely immobile by him. He towered over her, pinning her body against the wall easily with his own, much larger one.

She stared up at him and, despite her best efforts, knew her terror was evident.

The man was filthy, covered in blood and mud. His face was almost obscured by it, his brilliant green eyes sparkling dangerously out of the mostly dark, late evening.

She looked down at the massive fist that held a knife to her heart and was suddenly sure she was going to die at the hands of this bloody stranger. Without warning she felt tears well up in her eyes. It wasn’t often that she cried, but she’d promised her father she would take care of herself and stay safe and she hadn’t even lasted a full week without him.

She closed her eyes and felt a tear escape to trickle down her cheek.

Suddenly the weight of the man’s body was gone. She opened her eyes in time to see him take his forearm from her throat and step back.

“Who are you?” He asked, his voice a literal growl. It was exactly what she had expected this man to sound like.

She tried to rally her scattered, terrified senses and take stock of the new situation. The man had let her go, he was still holding the knife, but it was lowered at his side. Progress.

“Y/N.” She answered, stuttering slightly.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, his voice less of a growl, but still impossibly deep.

“I…this is where I live.” Y/N said, which wasn’t one hundred percent accurate, but it was close to the truth and she didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t anger him.

The man’s scowl deepened, Y/N hadn’t believed that to be possible. “This is Rufus Turner’s cabin. Are you related to Rufus somehow?”

A light bulb went off and Y/N began to understand; at least she hoped she did.

“I’m sorry. No…I…yes, it was Rufus’ cabin. But…I don’t know if you know, he’s…he’s passed away now. My Dad told me about the cabin a little while ago and when I had nowhere else to go, I came here. I’ve been here about a week and…well, it’s started to feel like home I guess. And my attention was…well, I was distracted coming back up here. I didn’t know you were in here until I came through the door, or I would have let you know I was coming, called out or something. But the…the lights were all off.”

She knew she was rambling. The man’s utter stillness and intense stare were very disconcerting and when she was nervous she tended to babble.

She cleared her throat and tried again. “You’re…you’re a hunter, aren’t you? A friend of Rufus’? My Dad told me other hunters used the cabin sometimes too.”

The man was silent for another minute, long enough to make Y/N begin to squirm. His piercing green gaze was unnerving but also slightly mesmerizing and Y/N began to feel a little like she was in a trance.

Finally she saw the man relax ever so slightly, and put the knife away in an inside pocket of his dirty leather coat.

“Yes.”

He’d been silent so long it took Y/N a moment to remember what she’d asked. But then she remembered he was confirming he was hunter and a friend of Rufus’.

“You can’t stay here.” The man said bluntly before turning away to light the two kerosene lamps that sat on the table.

“What, why?” Y/N asked, taken aback.

“Because I’m staying here.”

Y/N’s fear of the man fled in the face of his absolute audacity.

“Um…excuse me…you don’t own this cabin. Rufus left it for any hunters to use, not just you.”

The man turned back to face her and in the now bright room she could see, even through the layers of muck and blood, that the man standing in front of her was unbelievably beautiful.

His face was sculpted into perfect lines and planes, like a master artist had carved him out. His jaw was strong, cut square and sharp and his cheekbones were high and flawlessly chiseled. His lips, however, were molded by more gentle hands, full and lush. Y/N was suddenly aware of a desperate desire to run her thumb across his ripe bottom lip, something she didn’t think she had ever desired in her life before.

It took Y/N a moment to realize the man had said something, asked her a question maybe? Her brain was suddenly mush and she had to give herself a little shake to recover.

“What?” she asked stupidly, realizing her distracted response was likely undercutting her argument a little.

“Are you a hunter?” The man asked again, annoyance clear in his tone.

Y/N was tempted to lie and say yes, but she was nearly positive this man would see right through her.

“No. But…”

“Exactly. Then Rufus didn’t leave you anything.” The man said, turning away to the table again to begin rummaging through a backpack that sat there.

Y/N could feel her temper flare again at the man’s abrupt dismissal. She folded her arms and began to tap her foot.

“I don’t see why we can’t just both stay here. There’s plenty of room.”

“Because I have crap to do and I don’t need a civilian getting in my way.” The man answered in his growling voice again as he swiveled back around to face her.

Y/N stomped up to him. She wished she’d stopped a little further back so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck quite so much to look up at him, feeling, inexplicably, that his immense height gave him a slight advantage in the argument.

Y/N tried to make up for this by pushing a finger into the middle of his chest. “Look, buddy. I may not be a hunter, but I’m hardly a civilian. My dad’s been a hunter my whole life. I know what goes bump in the night okay.”

The man scoffed and flicked her finger off of him like she was a bothersome fly. “Great why don’t you call your dad to come get you out of my hair?”

“Because I burned his body to ash a week ago.”

Y/N clamped a hand over her mouth as though she’d said a bad word, or spilled a secret. She was silent for a minute, her mind reeling.

She shook her head and spoke from behind her hand. “That’s…I didn’t mean to…” she sat suddenly, glad there happened to be a chair behind her.

Her hand fell into her lap. “That’s the first time I’ve said it… that…that he’s dead. I haven’t heard the words.”

Y/N felt her throat constrict around the lump of unshed tears forming there. She looked up at the man standing in front of her, his expression inscrutable. She smiled weakly.

“Sorry about this.” She waved her hand toward herself. “It’s been a hard week.”

The man tilted his head slightly before he sighed deeply and pulled up the other chair and sat. He rubbed his hand across his face. “Yeah, me too.”

A silent moment passed before he spoke again. “What was his name, your dad?”

Y/N swiped at the two tears that had managed to escape, marveling at the fact that she had now cried twice in front of this stranger. That was more tears than she had shed in years.

“Steven Lane.”

The man shook his head. “I didn’t know him.” He caught Y/N’s gaze again. “I’m sorry.”

Y/N shrugged a shoulder. “Yeah, me too.” She said, echoing his earlier statement. A sudden realization dawned on her. “I don’t even know your name. Sorry, I didn’t ask. Rude.” She smiled.

He didn’t return the smile, but stared at her hard for a minute. She soon realized her mistake; most hunters didn’t like to give out a lot of information to strangers.

“Sorry.” She said quickly. “You don’t…”

“Dean.” He interrupted.

Y/N nodded absently for a second before her eyes widened and her mouth dropped into an “O”. Fragments of information began to filter into her mind and she started to piece them together. His size, his speed and agility when he’d pounced on her coming in the door, his fierce demeanor, his aura of power and strength, his ridiculous good looks.

His bright green eyes.

“Winchester?” She asked in a whisper before answering herself. “You’re Dean Winchester.”

She’d heard the stories of the Winchesters almost her whole life. First John. Then Sam…and Dean.

He nodded abruptly and looked away. She was suddenly, acutely aware that she was basically fangirling over him. She shook her head and tried to get a grip.

“Sorry.” She said, apologizing for what felt like the hundredth time since coming through the door. “I...it’s just…I know who you are.”

Then one more piece of information filtered into her frazzled mind. “I thought you were dead.”

Dean slapped his palms onto his thighs before rising from the chair. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” He grabbed up the backpack from the table and moved toward the couch. “Look, I just need the day tomorrow and then I’ll be out of here. But I don’t want to answer a lot of questions okay, so let’s just stay out of each other’s way.”

Y/N nodded slowly. “Sure, we can draw a line down the center of the cabin a la ‘I Love Lucy’.”

Dean looked back at her, his expression saying he was unimpressed with her attempt at humor. Then suddenly his face crumpled and he grabbed his left arm tightly, a small grunt of pain escaping him.

Y/N jumped up. “Or you can let me look at your arm and patch you up.”

Dean stepped away from Y/N quickly. “It’s fine. Just a cut. It’s healing.”

“Well, let me look at it.”

“No!” Dean barked at her, all his tense anger returning. “This is exactly my point. I’m fine and I don’t need anyone poking at me.”

Another wave of pain hit him and he half sat and half fell on the couch. His teeth were bared in a painful grimace as he pressed hard on his forearm. Y/N was very used to dealing with salty hunters who were too stubborn to listen to reason. She grabbed the first aid kit from the kitchen counter and returned to stand in front of Dean.

“Take off your jacket and pull up your sleeve.” Y/N ordered, feeling surefooted for the first time since walking into the cabin that evening. This was what she did. This was how she fought the good fight. She was a healer. Never able to go to school like a normal kid because of the life she and her dad lived, Y/N had, nevertheless, excelled in science and had always wanted to be a doctor.

That was impossible, of course, she knew she'd never become a doctor with her shoddy schooling record. So she learned to be a healer. She taught herself. She studied medicine, folklore, magic, and botany and combined them to become a hunter healer. She took care of her dad, but also all of her dad’s friends and a lot of victims that her Dad and his friends managed to save.

So she issued her directive and expected Dean would listen. But he ignored her easily. Not daunted, she simply climbed onto his lap, straddling him and pushing the jacket off his shoulders. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d forced healing onto someone bound and determined to suffer.

But in her comfort in her role as a healer she had momentarily forgotten that she wasn’t dealing with an old hunter or a traumatized victim. In spite of the pain in his arm, Dean was a virile, powerful, healthy, grown man; a hunter legendary for his strength and skill.

He grabbed her wrists tightly and she gasped as she was startled back to the reality that she was sitting in Dean Winchester’s lap and he had complete control over the situation. For some reason that idea, an idea that should have scared her, instead caused her stomach to tighten and heat to pool at her core.

Dean continued to hold her wrists firmly, but not painfully as he shrugged his jacket back onto his shoulders. He lowered their hands to rest between their bodies on his lap.

“I said, I’m fine.” His voice was a low rumble in his chest and it fell on Y/N’s ears like a drop of smooth bourbon on the tongue.

He let go of her wrists but made no move to get her off his lap. Y/N didn’t want to move, so she reached into the first aid kit and pulled out some rubbing alcohol and gauze.

“At least let me take care of some of this blood and these cuts on your face.” She said, her voice more of a ragged whisper than she’d meant it to be.

Dean shook his head slightly. “Most of it isn’t my blood.” But he didn’t stop her from reaching out and gently cleaning away some of the blood and mud from the small scratches and wounds along his hairline.

Y/N could feel Dean’s scorching gaze intent upon her face as she worked. It made her breath catch and her hands tremble slightly and she desperately avoided catching his eye for fear her heart would just stop beating.

There was a small abrasion on his chin and as Y/N dabbed at it gently with the gauze, her focus shifted to Dean’s plush bottom lip. It looked so soft, such a contrast to the rest of him. Her thumb was so close now; she could probably get away with touching it under the guise of checking his lip.

And before she could stop herself or admonish herself for her lack of boundaries and propriety, she was swiping her thumb along the silky smooth line of his lip. She heard a quick inhale and couldn’t actually tell if it came from Dean or her. Her thumb rested in the middle of his lip and almost reflexively Dean’s tongue pressed gently against it, before pulling the very tip in between his teeth and biting softly.

Y/N slid her gaze to his finally and the smoldering heat she found there did indeed make her heart skip several beats. Her breathing more ragged than ever, she pulled her hand away and replaced it with her lips. The kiss was chaste and soft, her movements deliberately slow, giving him ample opportunity to pull away or push her off of him.

When she pulled back slightly his eyes were still open and he studied her. When he finally spoke his voice was so soft and low she could only just make out his words.

“You shouldn’t stay here, Y/N. You should move.”

“Do you want me to?”

“You should want to.”

“Why?”

Dean grabbed hold of Y/N’s hips and pressed her down on his lap so that she could feel the hard bulge that pushed against the front of his jeans. Y/N’s eyes widened and Dean nodded.

“Because I really don’t want you to. I want you to stay right where you are. I want to rip the clothes from your body and taste your skin. I want to pound into you until oblivion hits. Because it’s been too long and I don’t have it in me to be gentle.” He paused and grabbed Y/N’s face between his palms.

He pulled her lips to his and crushed them against his own. His tongue swept into her mouth, hot, hard and wet. He pulled away only far enough to pull her bottom lip into his mouth and suck on it before biting down, leaving an imprint of his sharp white teeth in the soft skin.

“No, I won’t be gentle.”

Y/N felt a shudder of anticipation race through her.

"Don't be.”

Hello! For your Good Omens requests, how about an Aziraphale x Reader x Crowley where they teach the reader how to drive in the Bentley? I think it’s fun to think about the different ways the Bentley reacts to Azi and Crowley, and what relationship it might have with reader! Also I need something lighthearted and fluffy after season 2 :(

Thanks!

of course! my pleasure I love fluffy pieces like this 💕

Crowley x reader x Aziraphale (good omens)

“Don’t be afraid,” encourages Aziraphale, “it really is a lovely little car.”

“My car is neither lovely nor little. It is a classic, it is worth over half a million by now, and it is made for terrorising pensioners on A-roads,” Crowley snaps back. 

“Alright, I’m getting out —” you begin, but as you go to move you’re suddenly met with both of them begging you not to and apologising. 

You’ve had your eye on driving the Bentley for a while, but sort of in the same way someone walking past a rottweiler in a front garden every day might have an idea to reach over and give it a scratch. You’re fascinated but aware that it could be very dangerous. 

Crowley loves you but wasn’t too sure about the idea of letting a human drive his prized possession. Luckily Aziraphale is very good at just telling Crowley what is going to happen rather than asking his permission; for domestic matters like these, anyway. So your devil reluctantly agreed on the condition he was there to supervise - and Aziraphale didn’t want to miss the fun. 

Besides, in a more practical sense, what if both of them were unable to drive and you needed to get them somewhere? Crowley refuses to get in your Hyundai. There needs to be a backup plan. 

“Just be gentle,” Aziraphale suggests. 

“But assertive,” Crowley adds quickly. 

“Alright. Gentle but assertive. Just like in bed,” you mutter. Crowley snorts and Aziraphale makes a little noise in the back of his throat. 

You turn on the ignition, listening to the way it starts immediately. Firmly grip the wheel in one hand and the gearstick in the other. 

“Please be kind to me,” you mutter to the dashboard, “I think you’re a gorgeous, gorgeous car, and I want us to enjoy being around each other. Plus I’ll make sure to get you that nice wax Crowley only buys as a treat.”

The engine revs a little on its own, and you find first gear is engaged automatically. 

“Oh!” you beam as your favourite band begins to play on the radio, “You're right Aziraphale, this is lovely.”

Crowley is left sputtering with indignation as you pull away from the kerb. 

taglist: @idontmeanto @smile-eywa @candlewitch-cryptic @staygoldsquatchling02 @specter-soltare

— when you are short.

Connor:

• does not compute how short you are, just too cute • but he’s really a gentleman about it • will make sure everything is not out of your reach • didn’t know that finding the right size for clothes could be this complicated until you two went shopping together • genuinely surprised when you told him that your dress was actually a very big t-shirt • “I’ve read somewhere that short people are usually mean because they’re closer to hell but I highly doubt that since you’re so pretty.” • so smooth with you • has he upgraded his flirting software or • he still blushes tho when you place your hands on his forearms as a support to kiss him • blushes a lot more when people mistake you for his little sibling • long walks arm in arm and hand in hand • he says it’s fundamental so you don’t get lost in the crowd • and you believe him bc he’s a negotiator model he’s good at telling (white) lies • and because sometimes you really do get lost in crowds • but of course he just want to hold you close to his body he’s  p u r e 

RK900:

• didn’t know humans could come up in this size • “do you have a hormonal deficiency or it’s just genetics?” • not in a mean or teasing way, he’s purely curious • you’re automatically ‘smol’ • every time you get mad all he can think about is ‘so much anger for such a small creature’ • ofc you always call him ‘big boi’ • what do you mean you don’t like to be lifted up • strong arms around your body all the time • gets things for you from high shelves • really protective • and by that i mean REALLY PROTECTIVE • sometimes overwhelming because “you know i can do things on my own, right?” • he knows, he has simply decided not to care bc you are his human pup and must protecc • over time he realizes he’s head over heels in love with how short you are • didn’t know androids could have a ‘type’ • you’re definitely his ‘type’  • just picture this big sturdy mess of a man leaning down for a kiss please • you constantly on your tiptoes • lots of kisses on your temples, on the top of your head, forehead kisses • gently places his chin on your head and hugs you from behind while you are lost in thoughts • please wear his clothes it turns him on so much seeing you in an oversize something and if it’s his something??? he can deactivate and blush peacefully 

RK800-60:

• “you’re tiny” “yeah i know” “no you don’t get it. you’re tiny” • really amused by your height • constant jokes about how short you are • really he doesn’t stop • downloads jokes about short people every day just for you isn’t he the sweetest thing ever • your head it’s his new armrest • but don’t get angry, he does it because he thinks it’s very cute • plus by doing this everyone knows who you belong to • when you sleep his LED is endlessly yellow because he can’t stop looking at you and thinking at the fact that you are too cute for this world • since you are so elfin he’s the big spoon FIGHT HIM ON THIS • how can you be this cute just because of your height it’s outrageous • “are you sure you are not underage?” • you desperately want to be taller so he can shut up • carries you on his back if you are tired • even if you are not

I love that my childhood allows me to know what this is from

this is funny

like really, really funny

This reminded me of one of my D&D game nights 😂.

My party and I transplanted some trees around the border of a village to help (hopefully) make another barrier against the zombies that had been hanging around. When we went back to the village a month later in the storyline, well... The trees had destroyed the village and had multiplied to a decent sized forest. And as the only nature inclined character...the others sent me to try and communicate with the trees...it didn't go well, for the rest of my party at least.

If there are trees you aren’t alone

the japanese “-ne?” particle and the british slang term “innit” serve the same function

The (Scottish) Cabin in the Woods

Chapter 4

Consequences don't just fall to the perpetrators. You learn a new name.

Phew! I was sweating over this one, I hope you all enjoy it. One more chapter to go before this story is wrapped up. All my love, appreciation, gratitude, and smooches to my two lovely betas, Soleil and SentientCave.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49842430/chapters/139337776

That was adorable ♥️♥️

Welcome to Build-a-Frog!

Click here to enter

Ghost: Hard dom (but also enjoys the occasional submission… won’t tell u tho :p)

Price: Soft dom… this man loves taking care of you but also reminding you of who’s in charge

Gaz: He don’t give a fuck as long as you both feel good

Soap: Switch (leaning depending on his mood or how work was)