#steel blue cricket hunter

[4ttack-ur-heart]

Hi. How are you? I wish you a good weekend in advance, since today is Thursday.

Please don't rush to write. Take your time.

Geez! I wanted to send you an aesthetic but, it's okay.

Vampire Levi Ackerman x female reader soulmate.

Content: NSFW, angst, fluff

In which Levi lost his beloved to vampire hunters.

Many years have passed, and now Levi has found a new vampire companion. (Not the reader).

The reader is reborn in this new modern world as a human. The reader had the unique eye color, purple. In the past, Levi had gifted the reader a pair of amethyst stone earrings to match her eyes. He had had them made especially for her.

Levi meets the reader again at a gala. He recognizes the unique scent of her blood.

Now, what will Levi do when he finds the love of his life? The only person who makes his dead heart beat.

Happy ending for Levi and the reader, please. 🥹🩷

Feel free to change things up.

Fate’s Cruel Journey

Pairing: vampire! Levi x fem! reader

Warnings: blood, violence, killing, vampire lore, lots of swearing (mostly from Levi).

Genre: angst to fluff

Summary: Levi lost his wife many years ago to vampire hunters, now, centuries later, what happens when he finds her again at a party but she has no idea who she is?

Note: The only real physical description of the reader is that she has purple eyes, but otherwise she's pretty nuetral and I've re-read the fic so many times, I can't tell if there's anymore mistakes because of brain malfunctions.

AAAAAAANd I also wanna thank you for being so patient. I haven't written for aot in like over a year so writer's block unfortunately hit pretty hard. Hope you like it!!

Sent in by the person who requested :) an ai visual of Levi’s vampire look.

The breeze seems colder tonight. The stars twinkle faster than Y/n remembers, too.

Maybe it’s the full moon beaming down on her body.

Or maybe it’s the wooden stake impaled near her heart that heightens her senses in her last moments.

The crickets and cicadas chirp a little louder as well. The rain also seems to dribble down her body quite rapidly.

No, that was really blood- not rain, the blood of a vampire. Thick black liquid spills out of the wound and a tiny line even trails from the corner of her mouth.

Night has never looked so beautiful. Through her half-lidded eyes and blurring vision, she swears she sees a shooting star.

Make a wish.

“Let me watch over him…” she whispers to no one in particular, just whatever deity above is willing to listen.

A choked sound leaves her chapped lips as the black goo starts to seep into the back of her throat.

Him….

Him-

Footsteps quickly sound off in her left ear and her head rolls slightly in the direction.

“No, no…” The voice, a man’s voice, rasps out. “Stay with me, Y/n. Don’t you fucking leave me.”

Though a harsh choice of words, she can make out the slight shakiness in the man’s voice.

Her eyes finally settle on the figure. A cold and calloused hand touches her face tenderly, the hands cradling her features. She can faintly feel the thumb rubbing across the cheekbone as her face is turned towards the figure.

A small smile breaks out on her face.

This wasn’t any man. This was her man.

Her husband.

Her Levi.

“I-I didn’t know there were so many of them.” She whispers as her breathing quivers again. “I was just h-hungry.”

Levi’s jaw clenches as his steel blue eyes gaze into her purple ones. “I know, baby. It’s okay, I’m going to get you back home.”

Levi moves to pick her up, but she lets out a noise that stops him.

“N-no, don’t do that. I’ll only die quicker.”

An unsettling feeling takes over Levi’s entire body as he contemplates her words. She's right. Any slight movement of the stake would easily pierce her heart and kill her before he could even properly say goodbye.

Levi sucks in a harsh breath, trying to fight the tears lining his eyes. This isn’t happening. She was going to be just fine. It’s just a nightmare and he’ll wake up.

A cough interrupts his thoughts, and Levi is quick to pull her away from the tree and into his arms. Her back rests against his chest and her head falls to his bicep.

“I wish we could go back to the first day we met…” Her words go unanswered for a few moments as Levi recalls the memory.

——

He had already been turned for a few years and was wandering the streets looking for food- for blood. Passing by a rowdy tavern, his heightened hearing was able to pick up faint crying coming from the alleyway next to it.

Cautiously approaching the dark entrance, he makes out a figure sobbing over a bloodied body.

With an intake of breath, he quickly hides himself. There have been rumors of vampires lurking in the village. If someone saw the way his blue eyes flickered to red at the smell of blood, he’d be hunted down for sure.

“What have I done, no, oh my god…” the figure sobs quietly.

Levi was now curious. Did this person kill the other? Pushing down his suspicions, he starts to walk towards the pair.

The figure- a young woman- lifts her head in shock at his appearance. Her eyes were puffy from crying and her clothes seemed to be torn and dirtied.

“I didn’t kill him!” Her eyes dart between him and the dead body as she quickly stands. “I-I promise!”

Levi gives out a scoff. “Tell that to the blood all over your chin.”

She gasps and her hand comes up to cover the crimson patch.

“He came at me.”

“And you sucked his blood, right?”

The woman freezes at his words. He knows.

He knows and he seems so calm about it.

Levi gives out a ‘hmph’ at the sound of barking laughter from drunken men lurking closer.

“Either follow me or worry about them.” He gives her one last look before walking down the alley. “Your choice.”

His silhouette slowly disappears through the thick fog. The woman chews her lip, tongue swiping over the blood that lingered.

Hesitantly, she follows him.

“Who are you?” She asks.

“A vampire, just like you.” Levi grabs her arm and yanks her behind a few stacked barrels to hide them from prying eyes. “Names Levi.”

And from then on, Levi took her in. He showed her how to hunt humans and discreetly suck their blood without creating too much of a mess. He showed her how to hide in the shadows and blend in.

Most importantly, he showed her how to love.

——

“Why’s that?” Levi asks.

Keep her talking.

Y/n glances at the moon before her lavender eyes fall back to her husband. Her hand shakily comes up to brush his hair away from his forehead. “Because I would get to fall in love with you all over again.” Then her hand dropped and her purple irises stilled.

She was gone…

Levi prayed to that same deity over and over again. Please let this all be a nightmare.

Let me wake up.

—-

Levi shoots up from his bed with a cold sweat coating his body.

He lets out ragged breaths as he tries to figure out where he is.

His mind can make out the familiar Victorian style furniture and he realizes where he is. He’s home… or at least the manor he resided at.

Fate was too cruel in this story. Levi did have a nightmare about his wife and he did wake up, but the narrative still stayed the same.

Y/n was still gone and she had been for a while.

A small knock rapped at the wooden door and Levi rubbed his exhausted eyes before telling them to come in.

Vera, Levi’s ‘roommate’, walks in. Years after his wife passed, he met her being chased by hunters and saved her. The pair decided to stick together for survival, but it was nothing close to what it was with his Y/n.

“I heard you screaming again. Another nightmare?” Her voice is concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She nods and hesitates before closing the door, knowing he won’t beg her to stay. It wasn’t the same and it never will be.

Vera was a sweet girl, but over time, she started to see Levi as possibly more than what their situation actually was. It was easy to tell in her body language and words that she liked him and longed for something more.

Levi told her his wife’s story, yet she persisted.

It angered him and it felt disrespectful. Even though it’s been years, he can't see himself with anyone else nor does he want to.

The phone pings on the edge of the nightstand, the screen illuminating the dark room. With a groan, Levi retrieves it and sees the text from the leader of another vampire clan. Eren with the Yeagerists.

-I sent Vera all the details for tonight. Everyone’s excited to finally feed again, but don’t worry we’ll make sure not to get any blood on your ancient relics.

That’s right, the details of what took months of planning were flooding his head again. The Yeagerists, The Scouts, along with Levi and Vera had planned a Gala of the sorts. Another stupid and expensive party for the elite humans to socialize. Perfect for their trap.

“Little brat,” he mutters with the urge to roll his eyes at the text. Eren was a newer vampire and has only been turned for about 250 years and he already thinks he knows best.

Levi sits up and starts getting ready for the day- err night. When he finishes tying his neatly ironed cravat, he makes sure to take a small feather duster to the old antiques around his room.

Despite the new century, Levi took pride in keeping artifacts and decor from when he first turned. It gave him a sense of peace and calm, almost something that reminded him of home.

Of her.

— —

“Eren emailed me the list of guests attending,” Vera says as she sips on the mug of steaming black tea Levi prepared.

Levi glances at her and sees the small grimace on her face as she takes a sip.

“You don’t have a drink it, you know.” He chides her.

“No, I like it. It’s very good.” She lies and takes another sip.

Ass-kissing won’t get you anywhere with me.

With a sigh, Levi finishes his own cup and rinses it in the sink. “Anyone of importance?”

Vera shakes her head.

“No, just a bunch of old, snobby bureaucrats and their wives. Although…” she trails off. “There was one person, a girl. I guess she’s the niece of one of them. Nothing strange, but she is the youngest one attending in her mid-twenties.”

“What a shame.”

The venue was at their manor nestled deep into the woods- perfect to hide the screams. When the clock strikes midnight, lock the doors, and have the feast of their lives.

Now that technology has advanced so much within the past century, it’s been hard to hunt without worrying about someone’s camera recording them. Vera said she had almost been caught if not for that stupid woman’s flash going off and alerting her.

At least this way, although barbaric, was the safest and strategic for their kind.

“It’s four o’clock now. What time should we be expecting our guests?” Vera asks.

“Around six. Make sure to dust the foyer. I wouldn’t want these people’s last thoughts to be about dying in a pig pen.”

——

When the grandfather clock chimes six times throughout the manor, Levi doesn’t hesitate to open the door.

Erwin of the Scout clan stands there with his guests of vampires.

“Right on time,” Levi hides the small smile daring to cross his face. “As usual.”

“Still as gracious as ever, Levi,” Erwin says, not bothering to hide his own smile at seeing his long-time friend.

There’s a small pause.

“May we come in?”

“Tch, you of all people should know vampires obeying invitations are only a myth, right?”

“Still good manners.”

“I see.” He sighs and opens the door. “Come in.”

Erwin was the oldest vampire among their group for almost a thousand years. 861 if you wanted to be precise.

“Levi!”

Arms wrap around his shoulders from behind, catching him off guard and he quickly catches his balance.

“Hange, I see you’re still the same as always.” He pats their wrists locked around his frame as his way of saying hello.

“Never better actually! You wouldn't believe the new things humans are doing these days.”

Hange was the eccentric one of the bunch. Even though they are only about 655 years turned, studying humans has never ceased their interests.

“I can’t wait to hear all about it,” he tells them and nods at the other vampires, Moblit and Miche.

Erwin says hello to Vera who shyly greets the clan. “How is the baby of the clans doing?”

Vera blushes at Erwin’s comment. She was only 179 years old. “I’m doing good. Just excited to finally feed again. It feels like it’s been forever.”

Before Erwin can respond, there’s a loud knock at the door. Levi opens the door and there stand the Yeagerists.

“Eren.”

“Levi.”

“Come on in, you little brats.”

The other clan, though younger in both physicality and biology, have taken their stand on being vampires. Rather than staying true to traditions, they continued to live among the humans rather than secluding themselves away.

“Eren, Mikasa, Armin,” Erwin greets. “Good to see you kids are doing alright.”

“You too, sir.” Armin smiles while Mikasa nods in response.

“Aren’t there more vampires coming?” Hange asks.

Levi makes a ‘hmph’ noise and sighs. “The other kids are late… as usual.”

———

By the next hour, the house was already lively as can be with multiple clans of vampires. The older manor was brighter than Levi normally likes to keep it, Bluetooth speakers were strewn along the rooms, each echoing classical music.

Levi studied everyone in the room from a secluded corner, his enhanced hearing allowing him to eavesdrop on everyone’s conversation. Multiple humans were talking about their successful businesses. Others about their divorces with much younger women dangling off their arms. Even one was boasting about tearing down a nearby park to expand his building.

It made him sick.

Even though the clans normally didn’t have any remorse about killing and sucking dry their victims, they still like to make sure it was humans who at least deserve to suffer.

“I finally found you, Levi.” A voice calls out, making him pause mid-sip of his tea.

Hardy Gustav. A rich and powerful sixty-year-old man of the 21st century. A woman who looked like she was in her thirties was glued to his side, his wife, Vanessa.

“Glad you can make it.” Levi nods, trying to loosen the death grip on his teacup. He’s had a few encounters with Hardy over the past and let’s just say he was someone Levi couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into. “Vanessa.”

“Have you met my niece yet? She's around here somewhere.” Hardy glances around the crowded room.

Levi shakes his head and lets out a sigh. “No, I haven’t yet. Don’t worry, though, the night is still young and I’m sure I’ll bump into her.”

Not like it will matter in just a few short hours anyway.

——

Sipping the bitter wine with a frown, she forces herself to act like she likes it. Y/n has never been too fond of these things, unfortunately. Her uncle Hardy has begged her to accompany him as he thought it would do some good for her mind.

“I need to introduce you to powerful people. Once you see how they carry themselves, you’ll never dream about meeting your husband in some run-down bookstore,” he had told her. “You’ll be taken care of for life.”

She rolls her eyes at the memory. All she sees right now are men twice or triple her age with women who were definitely out of their league. There's no way she’d meet anyone here.

Sorry to disappoint you, Uncle Hardy.

Taking another sip of the gross wine, she decided it was time to find her uncle and tell him she’d be leaving early. Getting out of her tight dress and watching sitcoms all night sounded like a better evening, anyways.

Turning around, she doesn’t see the gentleman walking past her and unceremoniously bumps into him- wine glass included.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry.” Y/n exclaims and sets the now-empty wine glass on a nearby table. Her face grows hot as people around them laugh and start to whisper. “Shit, shit, shit, it’s red wine too and of course you’re wearing white…”

Levi feels the liquid dribble down his neatly pressed white shirt and he fights the urge to snap at the woman.

“It’s alright, really, I’ll just head upstairs and-”

Levi finally looks at her- Really looks at her.

Y/n…

“How did you know my name?” She asks with a confused look as she holds a white cloth napkin.

Shit, he said that out loud?

“I’m so sorry, I can pay for your dry cleaning.” Her hand moved the napkin to his shirt to wipe the stain, but he quickly intercepted it. As soon as his skin touched hers, it was as if all time had stopped.

For the first time in his life, all sound had ceased and a ringing sound echoed in his ears. The movements of the guests and clans around them had blurred together and her figure was the only thing still in focus. If his heart was still beating- he was sure this was the moment it would have stopped.

“N-no,” he hastily clears his throat. “Let me just go change. Excuse me…”

Y/n watches him leave with a confused look.

——

Levi can’t breathe when he enters his room with a slam of the door. Not that he could, anyway, but was that sweat running down his face?

He struggles to loosen his cravat and he tugs at the material hurriedly, then tearing off his blazer and throwing it god knows where in the room.

Fuck.

This has never happened to him before. There's no way. It couldn’t be her.

A pounding noise echoed in his mind and it took him a minute to register that it was a knock on the door. He had the urge to yell and tell the person to get lost.

“Levi, it’s me,” Erwin’s voice rang out.

I can’t do this alone.

With urgency, Levi opens the door. Erwin’s brows furrowed at seeing Levi, who’s usually so composed, in such a distraught. Before he could ask, Levi had already grabbed his collar and yanked him inside the room before slamming the door again.

“What the hell is going on with you?” Erwin asked, concern and confusion lacing his words.

“I-it’s her. God, Erwin, I swear it was her.”

Erwin stiffened at his words. There's only one ‘her’ Levi cared about… only one who could make him feel and act this way.

“How?”

“How the fuck should I know? S-she bumped into me and spilled wine all over me.” Levi’s sentences were rushed and his tone carried a certain vulnerability Erwin’s never heard before.

“You need to calm down or you’ll be the first vampire to ever have a panic attack.” Erwin’s voice was stern, yet he knew someone had to keep Levi grounded.

A dry chuckle leaves Levi. “Don’t tell Hange or they’ll poke and prod.”

Erwin stays silent, not knowing what to say at the possibility of Levi seeing his wife again who’s been dead for centuries.

“Who is she? Why is she here?”

“I don’t know… I think it’s Gustav’s niece. Hange even said she’d be the youngest one here. It has to be.”

Erwin runs through all the possible scenarios and what-ifs. “Are you sure it’s not just a doppelgänger? It happens-”

“No.” Levi was quick to cut him off. “Her blood. Her blood… it’s too familiar. It’s her. I caught her scent and I was following it- that’s why I bumped into her. That’s my wife. Fuck, I can’t go back out there, Erwin.”

“Yes, you can.” He places a comforting hand on Levi’s shoulder. “That’s your wife. You have to.”

Anger swirled through Levi. Years and years of suppressed pain and suffering were finally coming to the surface.

“But she didn’t recognize me! She doesn’t know who I am!”

Erwin grabs Levi by both his shoulders this time.

“Then make her.”

——

Y/n stands uncomfortably next to her uncle and other businessmen as they talk, and talk, and talk-

Out of the corner of her eye, she spots the same man she bumped into earlier coming down the stairs- this time wearing an all-black suit.

She quickly excuses herself.

“Hi, I’m so sorry again. I just wanted to apologize and make sure you were okay. Like I said before, I can pay for the dry cleaning-”

The man cuts her off with a shake of his head. “Don’t worry about it, please. Accidents happen.”

Y/n nods at his words and averts her gaze as she can feel her face heat up again, but tries to make light of the situation. “Well, in case I haven’t said it before, I’m sorry, Mister…?”

“Levi,” The man answers in a raspy voice. “Levi Ackerman.”

She shakes his hand and shivers a bit at the cold touch, yet something about the way his skin touched hers felt so… familiar.

“Oh! This is your party, I’m so sorry for not recognizing you before. I’m not usually one for these scenes.” She smiles and brushes her hair behind her ears.

The earrings she was wearing glimmered in the chandelier light as the amethyst crystals dangled from her ears.

“Your earrings…”

She touched the stones and smiles. “I found these at an antique shop. There was something about them, I couldn’t leave without buying them.”

“They look lovely on you.”

Y/n cannot hide the blush that covers her face.

“Thank you.”

Before anyone else can say anything, the grandfather clock strikes the next hour and Levi freezes. It’s as if an eery chill took over the manor as Levi notices the clans glancing at each other with knowing looks.

It’s time.

Miche and Jean act quickly, using their strength to push over the bookshelves and block the door.

The crowd gasps as books and priceless antiques shatter and litter the foyer.

Hange lets out a maniacal laugh before grabbing the nearest person and sinking their fangs into his neck.

Screams and cries quickly echo in the lavish atmosphere. What was once a party for the elites, was now turned into a bloodbath for the vampires.

And not a drop was to be wasted.

——

“Uncle? Uncle, where are you?” Y/n cries out as she backs into a corner behind a turned-over table. She couldn’t see him anywhere and the vampires moving in a frenzy made her vision struggle to catch up.

Bodies quickly fall lifeless and pale to the shiny marble flooring. A body, a woman’s body, fell in front of the table and only her top half was visible.

Vanessa.

Her pleading brown eyes quickly locked onto Y/n’s face in horror.

“Help me!” She screeched before she was dragged out of her line of sight and her screams quickly silenced.

Once the screaming stopped, a man stood up from behind the table. His mullet-styled hair framed his eyes which were now fading between hazel and the true crimson color of a vampire as he licks the blood dribbling from his bottom lip.

With just one hand, the vampire quickly shoves the table and the heavy wood grinds across the flooring with a sickening scrape.

“You’re a pretty one. Such a waste.” Before the vampire could pounce on her, another figure tackled him to the ground.

“Jean, back off.” Levi stands defensively in front of her.

Jean dusts himself off and shoots him a look.

“Look if you wanted dibs, I get it.”

“That’s my fucking wife.”

Y/n’s eyes widen at Levi’s words.

Wife?

What the hell was he talking about? She had only just met him.

Levi’s eyes turn towards her and his stomach feels like it’s in his throat when he just sees fear written all over her face.

She still doesn’t remember…

Hange detaches themselves from the neck of someone and their eyes fill with shock. “Levi… it’s not possible.”

The older vampires of the clans all turn towards Levi all stunned at his claim. "No one fucking touches her! Do I make myself clear?"

The air is still, safe for the sound of Y/n's heavy pants from fear and adrenaline ringing out in the eerily quiet manor. With a glance around the room, it's easy to tell she's the only human still alive. The other guests, including her uncle, have all been killed. Their bodies are strewn across the torn apart manor and she's surrounded helplessly by vampires.

Levi takes a deep breath and faces the woman- his wife. His hand cautiously reaches out towards her to offer her a hand to stand. Y/n recoils slightly at the gesture and just stares at him, her lavender iris shaking.

"You have no idea who I am to you, do you?"

She swallows heavily and slowly shakes her head 'no.'

"If you come with me, I can explain everything."

Y/n only averts her eyes and chews her lip.

"Or you can stay with them. Up to you."

Again, her eyes scan over the multiple vampires all watching the exchange. Finally, she takes his hand and he helps her stand up. Levi leads her to the staircase and briefly stops as his eyes sweep over the mangled bodies and destroyed furniture.

"Clean up this mess."

---

Y/n's thoughts raced a million miles per minute. She's being escorted through some stranger's house after all the guests were just murdered in front of her eyes.

What sort of twisted joke was this?

Blindly, she follows him into a room and he shuts the door behind her. She remains standing with her back towards him, too afraid to face him.

"Y/n."

Hearing her own name makes her stiffen up and she clenches her teeth and prays this is all a nightmare. "Look at me."

She stays still.

Levi's hand gently presses on her bicep and turns her to face him. He doesn't make any other movements after that, his own nerves getting the best of him.

After a few painfully long seconds of silence, Y/n speaks up.

"Y-you called me your wife." Her voice hasn't changed one bit… if only it wasn't so full of fear.

"I did."

"Why?" Her eyes finally meet his.

Now, Levi stays silent, because honestly, how do you explain to your supposed dead wife that she might have reincarnated centuries later and doesn't remember being a vampire with you in a different lifetime?

"Because you were. Many, many years ago." He moves towards a dresser on the other side of the room. Opening the first drawer, he rummages through until he pulls out a small box. "This was your wedding ring."

The velvet box opens to reveal a glistening diamond set atop a plain silver band. Y/n stares at the ring curiously. It almost triggers something in her brain, a sense of nostalgia, but no direct memories.

"I… it's not possible, I'm sorry," she starts, voice cracking in turmoil. "I've never met you before. I only just moved here-"

"From your hometown, right?" The box shuts with a sharp snap. A symbol of Levi's pent-up frustration getting the best of him. "You wanted a change of scenery from things back home�� maybe find a husband and settle down, have a family."

"How did you-?"

"Because that was what you told me over two hundred years ago."

Silence was Y/n's only response.

"Those amethyst earrings you're wearing? They're real in case you were wondering and a gift from me on our first anniversary. You told me you wanted something to match your eyes."

He faces away from her, too caught up in his emotions to look at the woman who doesn’t recognize him.

"You might not remember me, but I remember everything about you. From your favorite color to your favorite flower; forget-me-not's, because you said it reminded you of my eyes, though fate has a fucking funny way of having that bite me in the ass."

"Look," she starts and hesitantly places a hand on his shoulder. "I don't know if it's because I'm really scared of you, but I believe you- in a way… I just don't remember."

The touch makes Levi jump a bit before his own hand covers hers and he solemnly nods. "I know."

A knock suddenly rings out in the room, making them both tense up. Levi gives her a reassuring look and answers the door. He's more than surprised to see Vera standing there.

"Vera? Someone better be fucking dying." He swears under his breath as he feels himself getting frustrated once more.

Vera wrings her hands together and she has a sorrowful look on her face. "I'm so sorry to interrupt, but the others are asking what to do with the bodies and we only have a few more hours till sunrise."

Levi pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'll be out right now."

Vera nods and walks to her own room. Levi shuts the door with a soft click and lets out a sigh. He looks towards the woman sitting timidly on the bed.

"I'll be back in five minutes. Please, don't leave. Believe me when I say you're safer here than anywhere else right now." He waits until she nods and makes his exit.

His footsteps are quick and irritable as he glides down the stairs and meets Erwin at the landing.

"What happened to everything we talked about? Why is Vera asking where the bodies should be disposed of?"

Erwin furrows his brows at Levi's words, confusion taking over his features. He gestures towards the room where the broken furniture was shoved into a corner and the rest of the bodies were piled up by the door, now wrapped up in sheets and curtains. "There was no confusion with your words, Levi. Half are going into the river, and the other half we're burying. We're making great time, too. Feeding gave everyone their strength back. "

Now, it's Levi's turn to be confused. An ear-piercing scream echoes throughout the house, making everyone freeze.

Y/n's scream.

With great speed, Levi and Erwin both move up the stairs and to his bedroom door. The knob stands still, refusing to open.

"Vera! Get the fuck away from her!" Levi yells through the thick wood before standing back and kicking the door down. The wood cracks and breaks easily under his force.

The sight before him horrifies him. Vera is hunched over Y/n, who is now lifeless on the floor.

Erwin is surprisingly faster than Levi and grips Vera around the waist, pulling her off Y/n.

Blood trickles down Vera's mouth and coats her chin, her crimson pupils dilated from ecstasy.

"No! Her blood is so sweet, please, I need more!" Vera cries out and thrashes against Erwin's hold. Levi doesn't waste another second and crouches by the lifeless human.

Deja vu floods his mind as he takes in her half-lidded eyes and raspy breathing. "No, no, no."

Like a mantra over and over again, Levi felt like he was always pleading with a brick wall in this life.

"What the hell is going on?" Eren asks from the broken doorway as Mikasa and Hange hover next to him, their eyes all widen in shock at seeing Y/n's barely conscious form and Vera's feral state.

Erwin moves Vera to the group and they quickly move to restrain her. "Take her and get her away from here! Kill her if you must."

Levi feels like the walls are closing in on him all over again. The pain, the anguish, the familiar feelings all come barreling through once more.

"Stay with me, Y/n! I'll be damned if I lose you again." He cries and cradles her body.

Her eyes lazily meet his as she struggles to breathe. The large bite wound in her neck oozes blood viciously and rapidly.

"I-I'm sorry about your wife," she wheezes out as tears flow from her eyes. Her breathing starts to become more shallow and her eyes slowly flutter shut.

Erwin places a hand on his shoulder, "Bite her. Fully turn her before it's too late."

Levi turns toward his friend, tears streaming down his face as he contemplates his words. His hand comes up behind her head to gently tilt it back and expose her bloody neck. His fangs emerge and he quickly buries them under her skin.

Another raw scream escapes her before she settles limp from the pain. Levi tries to ignore the whimpers of pain she lets out every time he moves.

Don't lose yourself, Levi.

Oh, but her blood did taste sweet. Heavenly, even.

Just a few more seconds…

No.

Control yourself.

Save her,

Save your wife.

Y/n gasps suddenly, her body arching in Levi's grasp. He loosens his grip as he detaches his fangs from her neck.

The blood leaking from the wound on her neck suddenly turns pitch black as the wound closes entirely and her skin loses all of its red pigment, now a duller shade of her natural skin tone. Heavy breaths escape her before her eyes shoot open.

Instead of her normal purple hue, her eyes were now a deep garnet. She had been reborn.

Y/n takes in her surroundings as she sits up from Levi's lap, but before she can look any further, Levi cradles her face in both hands. His blue eyes searched hers in both fear and anticipation, pleading that she would finally remember.

"Y/n?"

Her hands come up to his face and they swipe a stray tear down his pale cheek. "My husband."

Levi doesn't hesitate to pull her into his arms and bury his face in her shoulder.

Erwin doesn't hide the warm smile that graces his features as he takes his leave to give the couple their long-overdue reunion.

"My wife," Levi cries. "My beautiful wife. You're here. You're actually here."

Y/n nods tenderly into the material of his suit as her memories flood her brain. "I'm here, Levi."

He squeezes her impossibly tighter, afraid that she'll disappear again if he lets go.

They don't move from each other for a long time, but by the time they release each other, Levi stands and grabs the ring box sitting on the dresses. Y/n holds in another sob as she holds out her hand so Levi can slip on her wedding ring.

“I'm never letting you out of my sight again. That's a vow, for all of eternity."

[addicted2wasps]

30 of 50. I realized I haven't really drawn any purple wasps yet, so here's a Chlorion aerarium, inspired by a friend's recent photo! Drawn with coloured pencils.

[bestanimal]

:ooo do you have a favorite hymenopteran? im fond of the velvet ant, since i saw so many while i was at my last job

It’s hard to narrow it down to just one favorite (we’ll see if I have to do that in this tournament lol), but tbh I am really fond of a lot of wasps, mostly Apoidea. I love Eastern Cicada Killers (Sphecius speciosus) and a lot of the other big guys like the Steel-blue Cricket-hunter (Chlorion aerarium) and Great Black Digger Wasp (Sphex pensylvanicus) are always fun to see in the wild. I love sweat bees too, especially the green ones. One I added to my collection last Summer that I found really beautiful was the Norton’s Nomia (Nomia nortoni) which has pearlescent stripes???

But yeah Velvet Ants are also a great pick, I love seeing them. I saw a male Eastern Velvet Ant (Dasymutilla occidentalis) for the first time this Summer and was really bummed I didn’t have my net with me. (I collect only one male and female of each species.) He had beautiful metallic blue wings. I also used to have 2 pet velvet ants that lived with my death-feigning beetles. Their names were Bambi and Cupcake. 😅

The thing with Hymenopterans is that they’re just so incredibly diverse that it’s hard to pick just one, and that’s one of the reasons I love them so much! And you don’t even have to travel far to see cool ones; there’s a huge diversity of them right in your backyard. I am sitting on the back porch right now watching a Potter Wasp and and Carpenter Bee pollinate my Heuchera.

Photos, cause I guess this can double as Arthropod propaganda, not that it needs it lol:

Eastern Cicada Killer (Sphecius speciosus) (own work)

Steel-blue Cricket-hunter (Chlorion aerarium) (source)

Great Black Digger Wasp (Sphex pensylvanicus) (source)

Pure Green Sweat Bee (Augochlora pura) (source)

Norton’s Nomia (Nomia nortoni) (source)

Eastern Velvet Ant (Dasymutilla occidentalis) (female, but there is also a photo of a male in the source)

Sacken’s Velvet Ant (Dasymutilla sackenii) (this is what Bambi was, but I don’t remember what exact species Cupcake was) (source)

[spectralgecko]

The Greywing Insurrectionists

I has a batch of OCs for the Dead Lander Hoaxe AU, because with Hoaxe being slightly more friend-shaped, we need antagonists. Ergo, these... menaces.

Transcript:

Xera [zeh-rah]

Jewel Wasp (emerald cockroach wasp)

Arrogant [W]itch

Lapido [lah-pee-doh]

Grey(ish) Praying Mantis

No comment, just death

Esherev [eh-sheh-rehv]

"Evash" [eh-vahsh]

Steel-blue Cricket Hunter Wasp (this won't be important, I'm sure)

The Problem™

Chari [char-eye (hard 'ch' like 'charcoal')]

Dune Cricket

Got more than he bargained for ("Oh no, the consequences of my actions")

[smoozie]

Hotguy family au bug inspo, just so we're all on the same page here (@ty-bayonet-betteridge)

Hotguy - Scar

Brood X Cicada

Cuteguy - Grian

Glasswing Butterfly

Hotgal - Pearl

Spotted Lanternfly

Cutegal - Gem

Honey Bee

Coolguy - Skizz

Steel Blue Cricket Hunter (wasp)

Sexyguy - Joel

Pink Spirit Moth

Prettyguy - Jimmy

Common Firefly

Edit: btw if u have no idea what I'm talking about, it should be under #hgfau and #hotguy family au on my blog (tags below)

[k0rvart]

Something I’m working on - based off of a steel blue cricket hunter/wasp ✨

[minmos]

below the cut (because there are so many bug pictures) i would like to post. a gallery of WASP DIVERSITY

ruby tailed wasp. it rolls up like a pillbug to protect itself and cannot sting. it lays its eggs in other wasp nests

blue mud dauber. not aggressive, males cannot sting. adults are pollinators, their young eat black widow spiders. It's also blue if you can believe that

pelecinid wasp. cannot sting. this has two population groups - one in the southern us & most of south america that does regular parasitic wasp stuff, and a population in the rest of north america consisting only of females that reproduce asexually.

baeus wasp. this guy is fucking crazy. flightless & preys on spider eggs. and it's small as hell

fairyfly. world's smallest insect. lays eggs in other insects' eggs and only lives a few days.

doddifoenus rex. having trouble finding more information about the species.

chalcura. check out those antennae! preys on ants.

tarantula hawk. even more pretty antennae! one of the largest parasitoid wasps. preys on tarantulas. very docile, but does have one of the most painful recorded stings of all insects - it's beat only by the bullet ant on the schmidt pain index. just don't fuck with it though it's not going to go after you

thread waisted wasp. isnt she cool! one got stuck in my bathroom once.

giant ichneumon wasp. isn't that crazy! unable to sting. preys on one specific other species of wasp (pigeon horntail).

organ pipe mud dauber. described by wikipedia as "exceedingly docile" so you know she knows what's up... and she makes nests out of clay because she's a beautiful little potter. so apparently these guys are haplodiploid, which means that they'll just lay eggs and any unfertilized eggs generate males and fertilized eggs generate females. that's weird.

steel blue cricket hunter. You'll never guess what she hunts.

anyway umm yes. WASPS. theres so many cool wasps out there. Dont let yellow jackets poison wasps for you i promise theyre not all like that ...

[horsejawbone]

collection of bug photos from over the past two years (not in order, not all identified)

1&2 - Hackleberry Emperor who got trapped in my house

3 - Dragonfly

4 - Banded Sphinx Moth

5 - Some kind of spider (with a whole bunch of lil spiderlings on their back!)

6 - Parson Spider

7 - Blue Steel Cricket Hunter

8 - Sharpshooter Bug

[bone-free-as-the-wind]

Several of these peaceful Steel-blue Cricket Hunter wasps live in our yard now. Beautiful to watch them running and flying around. They are making it a very happy summer solstice.

(photo by S Suzuki-Martinez)

[onenicebugperday]

I was wondering if anyone had some information on a species of wasp thats a sapphire blue color? I saw one on my windowsill in Georgia, USA !! I looked it up and it seems to be a friendlier species but I’m curious if anyone knew anything funky :0 (I’m sorry, I didn’t manage to get a picture! I hope this is enough information to pin something down <3)

I would imagine either the nearctic blue mud dauber or the steel-blue cricket-hunter! In order of mention:

Photos by bob15noble and greglasley

If not those then maybe a metallic bluish-green cuckoo wasp, though they tend to be more green than blue:

Photo by sambiology

[my-cannibal-blackberries]

Ephraim - Steel blue cricket hunter. Adorable as can be, but hungry and efficient.

Obsessive, quick and strong with venom easily able to paralyze, Ephraim poses a viable threat to any meal he sets his sights on.

[shelleysackier]

Explaining the Birds & the Bees, But Mostly the Bugs

Explaining the Birds & the Bees, But Mostly the Bugs

But before we begin …

A thousand squealing thank yous to Robin Gott — sorcerer of stage, screen, and scribbles — who has so kindly taken a few minutes off from work to sit in his dressing room and whip out a handful of his amazing cartoons to accompany this post. And for so much more of Robin, visit robingott.com

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I think we can all agree that we will never, ever truly be…

[violetsandshrikes]

can we see some cool wasps

Steel-blue cricket hunter (Chlorion aerarium) (Photo credit)

Great Golden Sand Digger/Great Gold Digger Wasp (Sphex ichneumoneus) (photo credit)

American Sand Wasp (Bembix americana) (photo credit)

Thisbe's Tarantula-hawk Wasp (Pepsis thisbe) (photo credit)

[firelord-frowny]

whenever im in a Social Setting, somebody allllways makes the mistake of asking me ~what i like to do for fun~

and then i spend the next several minutes showing them pictures of bugs and giving them a crash course on the kinds of wasps that can be found in a suburban backyard in prince george's county maryland <3

which, nobody asked, but that includes

black and yellow dirt daubers

great black wasps

spider wasp (auplopous)

spider wasp (entypus)

four spotted velvet ants

cuckoo wasps

short tailed ichneumon wasps

european hornets

bald faced hornets

eastern yellowjacket

southern yellowjacket

european yellowjacket

red paper wasp

ringed paper wasp

common paper wasp

common thread-waisted wasp

four toothed mason wasp

potter wasp

double banded scoliid wasps

four spotted scoliid wasps

northern paper wasp

steel blue cricket hunters

cicada killers

[wafflewarriors]

Runaway Winchester

Through all your years with the Winchesters, after running from demons and vampires and ghosts. After sticking up for one another and having each other's backs, it had never crossed your mind that you might run from them.

Here you were, bare necessities held by straps on your shoulders. A silver knife at your waistband and a loaded gun on your hip. A vial of holy water, a little bag of salt, an iron poker, all in your drawstring bag. Flannel, jeans, and steel toe boots were your current friends.

You stopped at a nearby bus stop. It was an hour wait until the next bus came, but you were confident you were far enough from the boys to relax a bit. Most shops were closed, so you just quietly minded yourself on the bench, admiring the crickets' songs and the soothing dark of the night.

To most hunters, the night was their enemy. But you couldn't see what was to blame it for. Despite the chaos that occured with monsters in the night, they also lurked the same amount in the day. There is an equal enough balance of time of day and monsters' activity that it was stupid to fear it. Fear the monsters, not the dark.

You were going to stay alert for this last trip and then crash at the next motel. You were covering your tracks alright, you thought. You had ditched most of your identification, minus your backup one that they weren't aware you even owned. You had set your phone to the bare minimum apps, only still with you to call emergency services if it ever came to that.

You were tired. Bone tired and ready to sleep, but not so exhausted that you couldn't wait an hour. You had to wait an hour. This was your only shot to cover up your trail. You'd been purposely leading the Winchesters east awhile, but you planned on do a 180° on them. You had a rough idea of what you wanted. To go far west, lay low in the country, help out at a farm to earn some kind of pay.

And avoid hunting at all costs.

Because that would lead the Winchesters right to you.

It wasn't that you hated them. It really wasn't. They were the bravest, best men you'd ever met. A little too selfless, a bit harsh, maybe... but good-hearted and well-meaning.

You just… you just didn't mix.

Specifically with Dean Winchester.

He said your music taste was terrible; he said that you were too girly, that he didn't want the chick flick moments; he always rejected your attempts at hugs, which usually were more for yourself than anything, and it made you feel worse when he withdrew and gave you stupid excuses; he offered you no reassurance when you failed at something because 'there's no room for mistakes' even though he made them everyday, more so than you ever did.

He was just so frustrating.

There were arguments. Over everything. So many long, tiresome circling arguments of the same topic like you were both in a time loop. There was always something to blame about you. You were too careful, or too pushy, too confident, too determined. Your personalities were polar to his and it led to heated discussions like whether they should gank the seemingly moral werewolf, or to run in a vamp nest on a whim.

Dean would always throw it in your face when you were too reckless. They would throw it in your face when you were wrong, and when you had screwed it up. Like you didn't know it already. Like you didn't tell yourself again and again a million times in your head, each day, every night. Reminding yourself of your failures so repeatedly that there was a rhythm to it. No, they didn't need to do it for you. That was already your job.

After those terrible arguments of raised voices and mean, glaring eyes, Sam would then try and console you. Honestly, it just made you feel worse. Even if he didn't try to, he always took Dean's side in the long run. He'd tell you what Dean really meant to say, without his swearing and impulsive wording. 

And every single time, you were in the wrong. It seemed as if the world was spinning in the opposite direction as you were.

So you left.

In fact, you didn't really question it. You just wanted to clear your head for a while. You didn't know how long… just… a while.

You knew they would look for you. And as much as you were a friend, you were also a responsibility. A chore. Something to save and protect and hoard. But you knew that if you waited long enough, a larger, meaner priority would come along and rip away their attention. And hopefully, they would slowly forget about you.

At least, that was your plan.

Still curled up against the bench, you felt a drizzle of rain against your face. And as your flannel began to soak with cold water, you wished you were still in the warm safety of the bunker with a leather jacket around your shoulders. A little laugh bubbled up and you let your hair shake and drip down onto your jeans in hilarity. 

It was a stupid wish.

///

After Dean called your name for the third time with no response, he was fed up. He was already livid; you had, once again, run into danger even though Dean had specifically told you to wait in the car. It wasn't that he didn't trust you, but the ghost had been disemboweling young women for the past two straight weeks, and he had been admittedly nervous for you. Was that too much to ask?

He got out of his chair, throwing the useless, stupid research on the glowing table map thingy that he hadn't really named yet. He went marching over to your room, irritation carved into every feature of his face. He said while throwing open your door, "I swear if you don't come out of here, we are going to have some issu—"

You weren't there.

He spent several seconds blinking at the scene, and it took several more to connect the dots. Dean ended up standing there for twenty seconds, bow legged and leaning against the doorframe. His irritation quickly melted into a look of utter bafflement. Where..? Nobody was in the kitchen. Nobody was in the war room. Nobody was…

Your room was empty. Too empty. Kind of a spotless empty. You weren't a very neat person. There was always a little clutter, usually a flannel or two thrown about. You weren't a slob, you were on the road too much for that, but you were never this excessively clean.

From bafflement, came fear. His eyes widened, his mouth too, and soon he was shouting your name through the bunker.

Dean's heart stuttered when he heard footsteps. He breathed, "Oh, thank—"

But it wasn't you. It was Sam.

"What is it?" His brother asked.

The million dollar question.

Sam became concerned as the silence grew and he continued to observe the panic drawn in Dean's eyebrows. "Dean?"

"She's gone," Dean blurted. "She's… she's… her room's spotless, and her gun, and her knife, and her—" Dean tugged at his hair and swore. Loudly.

"Hey, calm down. We'll find her."

Dean shook his head. "We taught her all there is to know about hiding."

"Yeah. We taught her. We know all her tricks."

"Knowing her tricks and knowing how to get around them is a lot different, Sam! How are you going to track a disabled cell phone? Huh? And how, pray tell, are you going to track someone who usually makes all the ID scams? She probably has ID's we don't know exist! Sam, she could be anywhere."

Sam look lost in thought. "She always liked the country," he murmured.

"What?"

"Dean, come on, think. Her country music that you always complain about? She grew up on a farm before she started hunting. Come on, you know that. She loved it."

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"Of course it doesn't. God, Dean, no wonder she left! You don't pay any attention to her!"

He scoffed. "Course I do."

"Yeah? Then what's her favorite color?" Sam asked quietly. He looked down at his brother with a disappointed look.

Dean decided he hated that look. "Her favorite color? Come on, what are we, second graders?"

"You don't know," Sam whispered in an uncomfortably sad awe, like Dean forgot his birthday or something mushy like that.

Dean decided he did not like that at all. "Blue," he said, trying to sound confident. But as Sam's face fell further, and all that confidence deflated like a popped balloon. His brother had on those stupid puppy eyes of his and it was giving Dean a headache.

"It's green," Sam told him. "You know why?"

"Why."

Sam leaned up against the wall, amazed. "She likes your eyes. She thinks they're nice."

Dean's ears must have malfunctioned. "What?"

"I can't believe you are that clueless. For someone who constantly dishes out pickup lines and hooks up with girls, you sure can't read her, can you?" Sam shook his head and decided to lay it out as flat and as plain as he possibly could for Dean's sake. "She likes you, idiot."

Dean's face was unreadable. His stupid head wasn't computing any of this. All his mind could do was could do was ask stupid, stupid questions. Why did she leave? She liked me? Do I even listen to her? Do I yell too much? Do I dismiss her? But there was one he couldn't help but single out. One he couldn't help but pour his focus to: Why didn't I take it easy on her?

Dean's face finally broke into one of overwhelming regret. "What have I done, Sammy?"

///

Just three days after settling at an orchard with the Carter family, you were finally finding yourself again. Finding your usefulness. Sure, the days stretched long and hot, but each one was as rewarding as the last. You were healing from the hunts, slowly, but surely.

It felt really good. Like, really good. Healthier than you'd been in weeks. Rich, homemade meals, and no fast food made you feel incredible. You even managed a regular sleep schedule, and while it wasn't perfect, it was something. Nightmares still plagued you, but they felt far away. Unreachable in such a wonderful home and environment.

You forgot how much you missed the country.

The Carter family was extremely kind to you. You simply had asked them for a bit of shelter from the rain and they took you in under their wing without question.

They were so wonderful that the Winchesters probably would have been suspicious. And as much as you didn't want to be skeptical, the hunter side of you was screaming. This punch in the gut feeling that something wasn't right, something wasn't normal. And you couldn't shake it.

But this happened all the time with hunts, didn't it? And then you would screw everything up to a gut feeling. So maybe this time you could just forget it. You were sick of messing up. You deserved this. This little bit of happiness.

They were older, late sixties, but so pure and kind hearted. Mrs.Carter made pies, and it reminded you of Dean. While Mr.Carter would often read in his lonesome, and you couldn't help but think of Sam.

Was this what they were? Replacements?

This? This gut feeling was just a little home-sickness. You weren't used to the eerie silence; you were used to blasting 80's music, the rumble of the Impala, or the tap of keys on a laptop. Hell, you were used to Dean shouting at you.

Here, you were without the faint smell of whiskey and instead sweet hay. The country had become so unfamiliar that half of you had shut down. You had locked the door and chucked the key into the farthest reaches of your mind, because it hurt. You lost your home and farm to supernatural creatures, and had lost yourself in the world of hunting. You forgot the peaceful life that came with the country.

You traced the symbol carved into the bed frame. Where had you seen this before? It was clearly old, and you'd seen it several times throughout the farm. On the barn doors, the mailbox, even the front door. What was it? Why couldn't you remember?

See? Again, here you were, doubting the Carters. You couldn't believe yourself.

You opened your phone. Six missed calls from Dean were painfully lit up on your lock screen. Biting your lip, you turned off airplane mode. Hovering your finger over the 'call' button when you heard someone shouting your name.

It was dinnertime. 

You had tossed your phone on the bed, scoffing at how ridiculous you were, doubting such wonderful people.

You made your way to the kitchen, where a beautiful meal was laid out for the family. You were just amazed at how fantastic the food was. It was like a dream Thanksgiving. Heavenly mashed potatoes, biscuits and gravy, stuffing, and a large, golden roast. You didn't know where to start.

"Wow," you whispered.

Mr. Carter patted you on the shoulder. "Please, eat as much as you'd like."

The food was good, as always. Really good. And after you were satisfied, you began to excuse yourself and walk to the sink to put your plate in.

"Where are you running off to?" Mrs. Carter asked. "There's still desert!"

You paused. "Oh, no, I'm okay—"

"I insist," she said, putting a plate of pumpkin pie at your seat. Just as you were about to protest, she set a spoonful of whipped cream on top of the giant slice.

A bit reluctant, you sat back down, carefully picking up your fork and taking a bite of the pie. You supposed you could eat it, if it would make her happy.

She beamed at you. "You were such a scrawny thing when you came here. Now look at you! Full meals! I nice bed to sleep on!"

You slowly nodded. "Thank you for all this, really, but I think I'll get out of your hair tomorrow morning." Something felt off. You didn't really know. But this gut feeling wasn't disappearing.

Mr. Carter sighed. "Unfortunately, we can't let you do that."

You were completely frozen. You had your fork in your mouth, staring up at them in something akin to terror.  You were internally cursing yourself for not trusting your instincts.

THIS IS EXACTLY WHY THE WINCHESTERS WERE RIGHT, something inside you screamed.

You had thought something in the whipped cream tasted funny. Good thing you just kept on eating, idiot. This is why Dean is so harsh on you. This is why you shouldn't have run away.

"Just let it sink in. You'll feel so much better," someone cooed in your ear. "So much better."

You didn't like it. All you could hear was the rattled sound of your panicked, shallow breath, and you realized your eyes were closed.

"So much better."

///

Sam and Dean were on their own little search party for three days.

Dean was antsy. "Sam, I don't know, maybe she's not here. There are so many other towns with farms."

"This is where the bus got off. Dean, look: I mapped out the entire bus system and this is the shortest and easiest way to get anything near the country. She has to be here."

"I know, it's just, where is she then? We checked twenty-two families already. Twenty-two, Sam!"

"I know, but I have this… I dunno, this gut feeling that we missed her, and I—" 

"The Carters'." Dean cut Sam off, eyes flashing with horrified realization. "That—that symbol on their front door. I couldn't put my finger on it, but those are for pagan gods, Sam."

Sam shifted his feet. "How do you know for sure?"

"Don't you remember the scarecrow? The… the…  That town that took couples and sacrificed them? There was that book on pagan gods. But I saw that symbol." He shook his head. "I knew I had seen that symbol somewhere, damn it. I should have said something."

"You're saying the Carters' could have kidnapped her?"

"It's a start."

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Jeez."

"Yeah, no kidding."

///

You came to with a blazing headache. You managed a squinty glare, keeping what little dignity as you watched your captors defiantly.

"There you go, little hunter." Someone's hand, their cold, clammy hand, rested on your shoulder. "We saw your little bag. You're a hunter, aren't you?"

You didn't respond, finding little reason to.

"Yeah, we thought so."

This guy was getting on your nerves fast, so you decided to bluff. "Sam and Dean, they're going to be pissed when they find me. I'd watch out if I were you."

Mr.Carter came into view. "I don't think you believe that, do you? You came here to hide. And it sounds to me like you did a pretty good job of it."

Your jaw clenched. "They're coming."

"Sure they are. You keep telling yourself that," Mrs.Carter murmured. "Hope they come soon. Our boy, here? Trust me, he's very hungry. A century of fasting does that to you, dear." Her smile was deceivingly warm. "Think he'll like that pumpkin pie, dearest?"

Mr.Carter grinned. "How couldn't he?"

You were so uncomfortable and lost and scared. How did you get here? Why couldn't you have just chosen the next farm over? Why does stupid hunter luck always lead you to monsters? From their conversation, it sounded like they were making a sacrifice. And something was going to eat you. Alive.

Through your evergrowing panic also came disappointment with this reality. Maybe this was God's will. Maybe he wanted you dead. Maybe this was good—you wouldn't be a problem for the Winchesters any longer, right? A lone tear tracked down your face—God, I don't wanna die.

The Carters would see to it that you did, though.

And this time, the Winchesters weren't going to find you. You had made sure of it. Your tracks were covered, so unless they got really innovative, they weren't going to track you down. To find you, you'd have to practically map out every route you could have taken.

As if they had the time to do that.

You worked your hands at the bindings, but your wrists and ankles were raw and sore. The knife stored in your pocket was too far from your hands to reach, so you were helpless. How the hell did Dean escape all the time?

You hurt a rattle of chains in the caged room in front of you. It was a dark cell, and the light was too murky to see what lied beyond the curtain. But there was a silhouette, and from what you could see, it wasn't human.

"It's a rabid werewolf, if you're curious." Mrs.Carter cooed at you, tracing your chin. "It won't hurt all that bad. Really dear."

Liar.

It was then that a chime rang through the house. The doorbell. The Carters sent you a wide eyed look, but before they could threaten you, you let out your loudest, shrillest scream.

///

Sam brought his hand to the doorbell, hesitating. "Dean, if she's not in there, we'll just be attacking an innocent family. Are you sure those markings are legit?" He couldn't see beyond the door of old wood and screen, only that the light was on and there were, in fact, people home. That wasn't much to go on.

"Sam, I'm sure. Let's do this, c'mon. Ring the doorbell. She could actually be in trouble right now."

Sam swore under his breath and pressed the button, listening to the soft chime echo throughout the house.

And after a pause, they heard a scream.

Both their eyes flashed. Dean kicked down the flimsy door, shoving past the kitchen to the source of the noise. As did Sam.

///

To your relief, you heard a thud from upstairs. The Winchesters had actually found you. They had kicked the door down and they were coming for you. They were coming. That was the only possibility because the Carters were petrified.

The cage jolted behind you. Before you could let out another yell for help, you were slammed to the ground. Mrs.Carter forced a cloth into your mouth and you gagged around it. She brought a belt around your neck and pulled, choking you and lugging you toward the cage. You struggled, kicking your feet at nothing and clawing at your throat, but whatever monster she was, she was much stronger than you.

By the time your face was red from a lack of air, there was a rapping of shoes against the wood of the stairs, and finally Sam was sprinting down the staircase. He wielded a stake in his right hand. Dean came down a second after. Sam lunged for Mr.Carter while Dean took on Mrs.Carter.

Both (pagans, you now assumed) fought hard, hissing and spitting at the hunters. But the Winchesters were trained fighters. Dean staked Mr.Carter right in the chest, growling as he twisted the stake into the monster's flesh. Mrs.Carter, however, wasn't staked in time, because she managed to snag the cage's lever. The cage yawned, and there was a pause. Then, the beast flew out at Sam, howling and slashing.

You gasped, grateful, but terrified. "Werewolf!" You hoarsely called. "It's a werewolf!"

Dean took a second to process that, but the second he did, the werewolf had two silver bullets to the chest.

The beast rocked, freezing in confusion and pain before it fell back.

"Timber," Dean said sarcastically. He made his way over to you, stepping over the corpses. "Are you… good? They didn't hurt you?"

You coughed, rubbing your sore neck but mostly alright. "I think I'm in one piece."

"Good." He threw down a hand.

You took his offer, wincing as he helped you to your feet, and you wavered a little.

He sent you that look.

You were quick to assure him. "Uh… she was dragging me. Lifted my shirt and scraped my back against the floor." You adjusted your rumpled shirt. "It's nothing."

Dean crossed his arms. "It's not nothing. None of this is nothing. Why the hell did you leave?"

"Because I screw everything up! I'm a liability, Dean. Every hunt you either bench me or I get captured or hurt or something, and that makes me a weakness in the next hunt. I'm pulling you down. I can't even leave right! I can't do anything without you having to swoop in and keep my ass out of trouble." You took a long needed breath, feeling weightless. "I don't want you to feel like I'm your responsibility. Like I'm just another chore."

Sam's face tightened. "You don't actually think—"

"I was trying to make this easier. I was trying to stay hidden, so that you two would give up and actually move onto things that are important. You guys constantly have things on your mind and you can't afford a distraction."

Dean and Sam's frowns both deepened.

"Look, I'm really grateful for this. I literally almost got fed to the wolves, here. But how in hell did you find me?"

Sam shifted. "We tracked all the routes you could have taken. I figured you'd always loved the country. We talked with a few families—"

"Twenty-two," Dean cut in.

"—er, yeah, twenty-two. Um, but Dean remembered the pagan symbols, so we figured this was the place. Turns out we were right, thank god."

You deflated. "I... saw those. Didn't think they meant anything." They always mean something. Do your goddamn research next time instead of blindly trusting a family that so generously takes you under their roof. You really thought people other than monsters would do that?

You brought your eyes up, observing them. And then a little part of you thought, they did that.

Yeah, they did. The Winchesters took you as their own. Maybe that's why you put your blind faith into these monsters, because they had reflected your life with the boys. Maybe the monsters did that on purpose, luring in their prey with things they loved and missed.

The Winchesters were confused and hurt, and probably didn't understand, but you were still family. With time, they would work around this.

"We'll work around this," Sam said, as if he had read your mind.

Sometimes, you wondered if this life was just a dream. That all these events were so coincidental, that there was always a monster around the corner and a Winchester at the next, ready to save you.

"You're not a burden. You're family and you're a hunter. That means something. If nobody made mistakes on hunts, there would be nothing to learn from. Nothing to grow off of. Listen, you can't have possibly made more mistakes than Dean or me, and you certainly aren't less forgivable. You do remember I started the Apocalypse, right?"

"We both did, Sammy," Dean said, nudging him.  He looked at you thoughtfully, and then pulled you into a tight hug.

You were too shocked to say anything.

"Hey I’m really sorry if I made you feel less important. That’s not what I wanted. You just scare the hell outta’ me and I don’t know… I get scared for you. I know this hunter life is scary and unpredictable, but nobody can do it alone. Nobody. That's a lesson Sam and I have learned after years and years of mistakes in this life. The mistakes don't end, and neither do the monsters, but if we got each other, we can learn to solve these problems together, alright? You got me?" He kissed your forehead. "God, I love you kid."

You allowed yourself a little happiness in his arms. But after a moment, you couldn't help it. "Damn." You paused. "Did you just have a chick flick moment?"

"No."

"You totally did!"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sam, back me up here."

Sam laughed. "It's okay, Dean. We all know you're a softie."

Dean scoffed, but soon he was laughing too. He clapped a hand on your back.

"Let's go get some pie. Pie solves everything."

He was right. It did.

And by God, did he blast country music the whole way home.

[alleiradayne]

LONG JACKET A DESTIEL-ISH SERIES

Over the last few years, I’ve seen some of the craziest shit hunting with the Winchesters and their angel, Castiel. But this story right here? This isn’t about monsters. This isn’t about the battle between good and evil, heaven and hell. I understand all that.

It’s people I don’t get. People are crazy. And we do crazy things when we’re in love.

PART VI - PLAID

Summary: The showdown. Warnings/Tags: Again, awkward flirting, mentions of rape, violence, sexual innuendo, blood, small description of sexual assault. Characters/Pairings: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester/Female!Reader Word Count: 6,875 (whoops)

Darkness encroached on the parking lot’s dim lamplight, the vast, endless nothing oppressive, suffocating. As we stood behind the Impala, that great void loomed, and yet, a tenuous sense of resolution settled in the pit of my stomach. Stuffed to the gills, Sam’s duffel bag—endearingly coined the Bag of Ouch—thumped into the open trunk.

“Isn’t that… a little overkill?”

“It would be if we’d ever actually fought a succubus before,” Sam said with a resigned sigh.

“You know,” I started as I squinted up at him. “Sometimes, I wonder what is wrong with you.”

He pointed to his head. “Don’t worry. I know there are too many screws loose. I didn’t mean to scare you. I don’t want you going into this with any illusions of grandeur. We have no clue what we’re doing when it comes to these bastards. Books, hunter’s notes, the internet. Sure. But that’s why the bag is stuffed beyond full.”

When I looked from him to the bag and back, he shut the trunk. “So, we just have to try something and hope?”

“Essentially, yes. My bet is on decapitation,” he said. “No matter how fast you heal, you really can’t recover from that.”

“Bronze stake through the heart, Y/N,” Dean interrupted. “You know, if you don’t get a clear shot at…” he motioned to his throat with an execution gesture. “Plus, bronze doubles down on ancient metals. They’re not close enough to vampires or werewolves for silver to work. It’s—”

Castiel exited the motel then, and Dean’s teeth clicked shut mid-thought. Angular shadows played tricks on my eyes until Castiel stepped into the light, and I gasped. Blue, white, and gray plaid enveloped his shoulders, paired perfectly with his black jeans, black t-shirt, and Dean’s ill-fitting boots.

Beside me, Dean turned around, and his brow furrowed. “Is that—”

“No, this I bought myself,” Castiel explained. “I like blue. I think.”

Even in the near darkness, Dean’s cheeks reddened noticeably. “You should. Looks good on you.”

I imagined that, if angels could blush, Castiel would have. “Thank you.”

“Get a room.”

The back of my hand met Sam’s stomach as I scolded him. “Sh! Leave them alone.”

Dean’s eyes rolled so hard he gave Sam a run for his money. “What is it with you two? The man looks good in blue, and he should know that. Nothing even remotely suggestive.” He continued grumbling to himself as he rounded for the driver’s side of the Impala.

“Maybe that was too far,” I suggested as I glared at Sam.

He merely laughed as he turned for the car. “I disagree entirely, but I’ll back off. At least, until after this hunt.”

I turned to follow him, but then realized Castiel stood by himself. “You coming?”

Hand to his chest, he smoothed the plaid as he tugged it straight. “Do you agree?”

“With?” I asked.

“Dean. About blue plaid.”

Stuttered words stumbled from my mouth. Had he not seen the way Dean stared? Blushed? A brisk shake of my head cleared my thoughts. “First off, I think you should wear whatever makes you happy and comfortable. If that’s plaid, great. If not, that’s fine, too. Second, you can only control yourself. That’s something you probably already knew, but for some reason, humans take way too long to learn that. And third, blue looks great on you.”

He smiled then and followed me to the car. “This is much more difficult than I had anticipated.”

A bark of laughter burst from my chest. Before responding, I reached the rear passenger door and popped the handle. “Do you want my advice?”

“I abide by your expert wisdom, Y/N,” Castiel replied.

I clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Talk to him.”

Behind schedule, I allowed Castiel no time to respond and sidled into the backseat of the Impala. Once Castiel seated himself, Dean backed out of the lot, and the Impala roared to life as he laid into the accelerator, heading towards the grocer.

“I hate this plan.”

Sam situated the bronze stake up the right sleeve of my newly acquired leather jacket. Dissatisfied and yet resigned to the situation, he moved on to the machete holster concealed beneath the jacket. “I really hate this plan.”

“Do you keep saying that to make me feel better or to convince me to bail?” I asked as I shot a nervous glance down the hill. There, sandwiched between the grocery store and a craft store, sat Madam Drina’s Visions, an eerie purple glow emitting from the partially curtained windows.

Sam grunted under his breath. “I think it makes me feel better,” he replied as he shifted the machete on my back. “Practice reaching for the handle. It’s a very weird holster. I hate wearing it.”

In one smooth motion, I reached behind my hip, grasped the handle, and pulled. The blade freed from the scabbard in a sharp ring of steel that sang between the stone buildings surrounding us. “Okay, I’ve never done that before. That was really fucking cool.”

“It sure as hell looked cool,” Sam laughed, “And it makes me feel better. Now, we’ll be right outside, so you give us the signal if you get the slightest hint shit’s going sideways. Please do not hesitate to call.”

I lowered the machete back behind my hip to re-sheath it. A solid clunk thudded through my chest as the hilt met the scabbard, the blade concealed once more. “Looks like I won’t be going in anytime soon.”

Down the hill, no more than a quarter-mile, the distant ring of Madam Drina’s door chimed through the silent night air. That sound caught Sam’s attention, and he turned to the source where we both watched a woman lean into the darkness of night from her shop’s door. She greeted a patron as he approached, and without delay, invited him inside.

Sam turned back to me and said, “We’ll give it an hour. If he doesn’t leave by midnight, we’ll send you in then.”

Before I could say anything else, Dean burst from the car and stomped to the trunk where he planted himself on the bumper. His folded arms and crossed ankles warned me enough, but my boldness won the battle against caution.

“Hey,” I started as I neared the trunk. “You okay?”

Sam slid into the Impala’s seat, and Dean waited for the door to shut before he responded. “No. I’m not.”

Okay, I hadn’t expected that at all. “Alright, that’s refreshing. Keep going. What’s got your goat?”

He scoffed half a laugh at that, opened his mouth to speak, then shut it and shook his head. Though he remained tightly wound, his arms eventually unfolded, and he reached for the hem of his shirt. There he found a familiar threadbare corner, and he continued to worry at it as he had so many times before.

“You ever…”

Silence. Only the chirping of real, honest-to-god crickets broke the still night air. A thousand-mile stare settled in Dean’s gaze, and though the darkness shrouded us both, a familiar conflict roiled beneath the surface of his outward façade.

“Do I ever… what?” I asked. “Catch myself thinking about someone for hours on end? Imagining the things I would say to them under different circumstances? Wondering how they would feel or what they would say in return?”

His eyes snapped to me, glaring from the corner while his head remained still. Another shiver ran up my spine, but the sensation vanished as soon as it had come. Dean looked back up the road, staring straight ahead. The start of a few sentences stuttered on his lips, his tongue. Each time he swallowed his words, he remained silent longer. Until he finally said, “Yes.”

“Which one?”

He plucked a stray string from the hem of his shirt and tossed it out before him. A gentle breeze caught the tuft of frayed cotton and carried it off to the sidewalk where it landed and stilled. Dean, too, sat still as stone for what felt like hours, staring straight ahead at nothing. But the gears churned between his ears, so loud I swore I could hear him thinking. All too familiar, I knew the imaginary situations that played out in his mind, scenario after scenario. Endless torture, that. No good in ruminating, in worrying what response you might get. I wanted to tell him all those things, but how much of a hypocrite would that make me? 

I wavered on the precipice of futility, that precarious knife’s edge where on one side, an infinite future spread as far as the eye could see and on the other stretched complete and utter nothingness. And yet, the longer I balanced on that deadly razor, my untimely end neared. Dean’s predicament had drawn out the worst of my subconscious. As I turned to regard Sam through the car, I swore a solemn oath, if only to myself, that I’d finally come clean. 

I stood then to do what I should have done months ago, but the moment my boots touched the concrete, the bell above Madam Drina’s door twinkled again, and Dean startled. He grabbed my shoulder and turned me to face him as he spoke, an insistent furrow to his brow.

“All of them,” he stated.

So lost in my head, I asked, “All of what?”

“What you said earlier,” he replied. “I’m constantly thinking about him, and I don’t know why. Besides you and Sam, Cas is my best friend, and I… I don’t know what to do.”

When I opened my mouth to reply, Sam exited the driver’s door, and Castiel followed not a beat later from the passenger’s side. I turned back to Dean and lowered my voice. “Just tell him.”

“What?!” he snarled under his breath.

“I’m serious,” I insisted in a thin hiss. “Tell him everything!”

When Sam rounded the end of the car, all rational thought fled. I’d made a promise to myself. And, in a way, to Dean, too. No way I’d go down as some plaster saint spouting hollow words in my final hours. Go big or go home.

Sam caught me. Barely, but that hardly mattered. When I had jumped, I knew I had leaped in faith, not in Sam’s ability to catch me—although I knew his arms were more than capable—but in his equal, mutual, maddening adoration for me. Like the heat of a summer’s noonday sun, his embrace smothered me. I soared too close to that roaring heat, and my plaster wings melted as I planted my lips on his.

Don’t let anyone ever tell you I can’t take my own advice.

“I am sorry, Dean.”

Castiel’s gruff apology ruined the moment. Almost. Sam squeezed me so tight to his chest and returned my kiss twofold despite our lack of privacy. But my eagerness to witness Dean and Castiel’s truth rivaled my endless exultation. I parted from Sam but remained in his arms as I looked over my shoulder.

Dean’s crooked eyebrow lowered as he turned from Sam and I to Castiel. “I know. But thanks,” he said as he clapped him on the shoulder. “Are you two finished?” He turned back to Sam and I. “Can we go kill this son of a bitch succubus and get the fuck out of here?”

Forgotten. For one glorious, blissfully unaware moment, I’d forgotten that a creature as vile as a succubus could exist.

The four of us looked down the hill towards the shop where Madam Drina waved goodbye to her patron as he walked down the block to the east. “That looks like our window,” Dean stated.

Two worlds collided with that simple phrase. The reality I had dreaded all day loomed like the specter of an urban legend. A sudden hyper-awareness seeped into my skin, my bones, my soul. Every hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and gooseflesh spread across my arms. The ceaseless ticks of my watch counted the last beats of my heart as though finite, and I knew too few remained. Like so many grains of sand, time slipped through my fingers no matter how I clung to them.

Still in his arms, I looked up to Sam, but he said nothing. Those three little words balanced on the tip of my tongue. But as my lips parted, Sam stopped me.

“I know. Me, too.”

That would have to do.

A dreaded chill replaced Sam’s embrace as I headed down the street to Madam Drina’s Visions.

“Hello?”

I’d expected Madam Drina to meet me at the door as she had her previous client. When a few minutes passed with no sign of her, I grasped the handle and swung the door wide. As I spoke, her doorbell’s chime faded, then struck again as the door closed behind me.

Incense suffocated the cramped space. Thick strands of smoke rolled like massive coils of so many snakes, crawling and gliding ever so slowly through the room in an endless drift. Gaudy furniture pressed in from all sides like banks of a river to guide souls to the room’s center. There sat an intimate, circular plinth covered by several ornate silk scarves, and on its center rested a large crystal ball.

Overhead, similar swaths of silk stretched from the corners to the center of the room directly above the plinth. From the center of the ceiling, numerous large crystals hung from delicate silvery chains. Despite the swirling smoke, those crystals remained poised, still as stone. Azure and amethyst and amaranth lights illuminated the walls from floor to ceiling, reflected in glittering crystals and the sizeable transparent ball on the plinth, completing Madam Drina’s incredible soothsaying display.

“Hello?”

Not even a hint of an echo. Slow steps bore me downriver, and I called out once more. “Madam Drina?”

I had done my best to prepare my senses, steel my nerves, and harden my resolve. Few women rivaled Madam Drina’s beauty. But when she entered the room through a thick layer of silk scarves across the room, death breathed its icy breath down my spine, and I shivered from head to toe.

Pale as the moon, Madam Drina glowed in the lamplight. Dark curls of midnight hair hung from her headwrap, and large almond eyes widened when she spotted me. A petite nose ended in a delicate slope upwards, and beneath it stretched plump lips painted so very red to reveal a brilliant smile. She opened her arms, dark linens billowing from her wrists and elbows, and showed a tightly bound dress of sanguine silk, satin, and chiffon. Around her neck wrapped a woven leather choker, and at its center sat a ruby the size of my thumbnail. From that ruby, three delicate leather straps of varying lengths and bearing tiny red stone droplets plunged to her deep neckline and settled just above her admittedly impressive cleavage.

I could hardly take my eyes off her. And not just out of fear for my safety.

“Good evening, my dear,” she cooed, her voice velvety smooth and throaty with a hint of her breath. “I apologize for my tardiness. I had to... powder my nose.”

The first wave of her power rolled through my chest, and the room shimmered in a blurry rush, but the sickening sensation passed in a single breath. When my focus returned, I found Madam Drina glaring daggers at me. But in a blink, her anger disappeared, and she motioned to the table.

“Please, sit. What would you like to know?” She crossed the space and sat in a plush, overstuffed chair on the plinth’s opposite side. The layers of her dress parted as she spread her knees to either side of the pillar and slid her chair closer. “Come, dear. Tell me what you see here,” she beckoned as she pointed at the crystal ball with a black, claw-like fingernail. “I can tell you what it means.” 

A nervous twitch of my hand checked the machete behind my hip. The cold bronze stake up my sleeve needed no such confirmation. As casually and confidently as I could, I strode to the empty chair and sat across from Madam Drina.

The second rush of power caressed my thighs, gentle as a lover’s touch. A heady aroma of oakmoss and elderberry flooded my nose, and once more, death breathed her icy chill down my neck. But again, the moment passed almost as if it had never happened. Disappointment twitched across Madam Drina’s intense gaze, her pale blue eyes flashing in frustration. And just as she had before, that display of emotion vanished, her calm countenance returned.

“You,” she drawled, “are better suited for cards.” A snap of her fingers vanished the crystal ball, clearing the plinth between us. I startled to feign surprise at such blatant use of magic, but I worried she saw through my ruse.

“Place your hand on the table,” she said as she smoothed the fabric. “Right here, my dear.”

Call it prescience, call it a sixth sense, hell, call it a woman’s intuition if that helps. Whatever it was, every fiber of my existence railed against the habit to lay my right hand on the table, and instead, I placed my left in the center with all the confidence I mustered.

Her long nails slipped beneath my palm and lifted my hand from the table. A scant inch from her nose, she examined my skin, fingers, and nails until she turned it over to scrutinize my palm. “Beautiful,” she purred, “so healthy. And strong.”

“You can tell that just by looking at my hand?” I asked.

The corners of her lips twitched, and she traced tantalizing trails along the lines of my palm with the pointed nail of her index finger. “That and much, much more.” She paused, her pale stare locked on mine. “But that is for another night. Cards. The cards will have the most insight for you tonight.”

Fight or flight. An opening squandered surely sealed my fate. Lost in thought, I noticed too late the creep of magic crawling along my arm, and when Madam Drina returned my hand to the covered plinth, death sang her siren’s call to me for the third time. That frigid touch of magic bound my hand to the table, frozen solid as a block of ice. A roiling surge in my stomach threatened to empty it there on the table, instinctual, primal. My final lucid moment chose flight.

As Madam Drina withdrew a deck of tarot cards from her waist wrap, I took my chance. Below the plinth, I slipped my right hand beneath the hem of my coat for my hip. There, the two-way radio’s textured button brushed beneath my fingers as I fumbled for my lifeline. But before I could press the button, Madam Drina held the deck out to me and spoke.

“Cut.”

As though a spun valve had released the pressure on my left hand, sensation returned to my fingers. I reached for the deck and stared Madam Drina directly in the eye. A rookie mistake, one I regretted immediately. Her piercing blue stare bored a hole straight into my soul, and my secrets laid bare. She knew. She saw straight through me, read me like an open book. Most of all, she knew that danger had found her that night. Too risky. I backed down from my radio and returned my right hand to my knee. With the left, I grabbed a large portion of the deck from her hand.

“Bold,” she commented as she placed the cards in her hand atop the cut. “But unsurprising.” The warmth of her touch covered mine on the table, only to seize in a flow of icy magic, chained once more. “I knew you would be an interesting read the moment I saw you.”

With ease, she moved my hand to the edge of the plinth. I tested my invisible restraint to no avail; that magical bond held fast. “Now,” she started, “I want you to think deeply about your being and how it has manifested itself thus far in the universe. Take your time. Connect with yourself. This may feel very new and even uncomfortable.”

To maintain pretenses, I did as she instructed. My gaze fell to the deck of cards where I drifted, unseeing. The room faded into an endless nothing, but within seconds, distant shapes formed in swirling clouds of dark smoke. As I neared them, they focused, solidified, and settled into my best friends. Castiel stood off to the side, his forlorn gaze staring across the nothingness at Dean, who stood beside Sam. And Sam’s appearance faded, opaque and wispy, where tendrils of smoke leached from him. Soon, he disappeared, and, though strange, I understood. I knew, without question, the meaning of that vision.

When Dean and Castiel remained, Dean gazed into the middle distance, and Castiel continued to stare at him.

“Ask your question.”

Madam Drina’s voice interrupted my thought, and in a wild, sliding rush, the room returned to focus around me. Her touch at my left hand, with her nimble fingers drawing delicate circles, elicited a well of sensations that itched beneath the surface, eager for release. But that ache was not alone. Death stalked in the shadows.

“You know what it is you seek, darling. Ask. Ask the universe your question, and the cards will tell you all you need to know.”

I heard myself speak before the thought had even formed in my mind. “How can I help my friend understand the truth?”

Madam Drina breathed in so deep, her chest swelled, and her eyes rolled back as they closed. “Ah, it is a man, no? A man you wish to… know the truth?”

“Yes,” I stated. “He deserves to know.”

“They all do,” she agreed as her gaze drifted to her hand atop mine. “They all should know the truth of a woman’s touch.”

Wait. What? “No, that’s… not—”

“Hush, dear,” she interrupted. “You have asked, and the cosmos will respond.” She lifted the first card from the top of the deck and turned it over. “Oh, how fascinating. You are not one to disappoint!”

A man hung from a tree by his ankle but rose above it against gravity. “The Hanged Man, inverted,” she said. “You are learning a new perspective on love. This man of whom you speak should know this, yes.”

But I knew The Hanged Man had many more meanings. Despite my question, I worried it related more to the situation at hand. I dodged sacrifice every second I lingered in Madam Drina’s presence.

She flipped the second card and hummed a knowing song. “The Seven of Pentacles, upright. You have long put work into this friendship. That is how you weather this storm. It will pay off with romance.”

The urge to contradict her nearly overcame my sensibility. Hard work, perseverance, and patience would see me through my encounter with such an abhorrent creature.

The third card flipped over, and Madam Drina hummed again as if she expected the result. “The Eight of Cups, inverted. You are learning the lessons of fear, sweetheart. Loneliness and loss are hard lessons, undoubtedly.”

Until that moment, I had held absolutely no faith in the power, ability, or knowing of tarot cards. But as I stared down that inverted Eight of Cups, my once unwavering disregard for tarot faltered. I feared not loneliness, but indecision. Inaction. Stagnation. I had to choose a path and commit to it before stalling at the crossroads got me killed.

Madam Drina grasped my left hand in hers and said, “You will see this through to your end, my dear. I know it.” She flipped over the fourth card and beamed with such pride I wondered if I had imagined her sense of danger earlier. “Strength, inverted!” she cried, almost a moan. “You shed your low self-esteem and insecurities, and are born again confident in love!”

No. What I relinquished in her presence was not insecurity, but fear. I stared Madam Drina dead in the eye again. I forced myself to meet her enraptured gaze of pure, unadulterated lust head-on and without fear any longer.

The fifth and final card flipped over with a snap of the cardstock. And that time, she cried out such a lascivious moan, I desperately wished to be anywhere else but in that room with her. “The Queen of Wands, upright,” she sighed. “You move forward with independence, confidence, and openness with your lover!”

In a brilliant flare of icy sorcery, Madam Drina lunged over the plinth and grasped me by the jaw. “You radiate power, sweetling. Do you not feel it?!” she breathed, oakmoss and elderberry filling my nose once more. “You should. You should experience the pleasures of such power. I can give that to you if you want. I can give you everything.”

Courage. The Queen of Wands symbolizes courage and individualism. To survive the encounter, I needed to believe in myself. Weak knees shook as I stood, the last of my willpower draining like water through a sieve. Madam Drina poured every ounce of her power into me, an unrelenting tidal wave. I wanted nothing more than to give in, surrender to her promises, and experience the culmination of that euphoria. And yet, the tiniest of voices, so thin and frail in the recess of my subconscious, forced its way to the fore of my mind and spoke of courage. Of righteous anger. Of life. Of love.

As Madam Drina pressed closer, her visage wavered, the mirage fading away to reveal her true form. Pale, purple skin stretched thin across her angular face, and endless black depths replaced the blue sapphires into which I stared. Long, curved horns smooth as obsidian protruded from her hairline where the skin crackled like broken earth to reveal tiny streams of violent purple energy flowing through her body.

“You will submit,” she ordered, “I own you now.”

Blood rushed past my ears with each furious beat of my heart, drowning out her words. The succubus continued to speak, continued to pour her delusions into my head. But I heard nothing, saw nothing. The last of my strength focused laser-like on the machete, and I reached behind my hip for the handle.

In a ring of metal and a flash of steel, I stripped the machete from its scabbard. The blade arched in a wild bid for her neck, and time stretched far too thin. Each second dragged, and the blade slid slowly, achingly, to its mark. Strike true, I begged. My life depended on it. God, please, let me strike true.

A sharp, earsplitting crack of thunder rang from the blade as it connected with the succubus’ long claws, her fingers against her neck blocking the machete. She smiled then, her long snakelike tongue darting out to lick her lips as she tore the weapon from my hand and tossed it to the floor beside her. “You will be such a pleasure to break.”

The bronze stake slipped from the sleeve of my jacket with a twitch of my wrist. Time raced to catch up, snapping back like a rubber band. I shoved the finely honed point to her chest, my entire body torqueing for all my strength, but in the final inch, the succubus screamed so loud, I collapsed to my knees. She flung me aside, and the stake flew from my hand to roll beneath a thick chest of drawers.  I tumbled with it, crashing into the dense oak, and pain lanced like lightning through my entire body. 

She screamed again, another furious screech that echoed impossibly through the shop. Windows rattled in their panes, and my hands snapped to my ears. The succubus stood then, and for the first time, I consumed her entire form. Heeled feet and slender ankles begged the eye up to the perfect curves of her sensuous hips that swayed as she strode to me and straddled my prone body. From the shiny golden gorget at her neck, delicate chains stretched along her pale skin, down her massive breasts, and capped small metal disks over her nipples. More delicate chains crossed along her soft stomach and wide hips, barely covering her sex with a flimsy gauze cloth that draped to the floor. Over her shoulder curled a wicked, seven-foot-long tail protruding from her spine at the top of her long, supple ass.

Lust, incarnate.

“You are inquisitive,” she purred. “I know what you are thinking. I know what they all think when they see my true form for the first time. You wonder.” She leaned over and reached for my throat. Adrenaline surged as I attempted to fight her off, but she pinned me to the floor with no effort at all. “You imagine. You fantasize,” she whispered into my ear. “I can give it all to you, and so much more.”

Her long, lithe fingers wrapped around my throat and gently squeezed. “This,” she started, “is what you crave. What you’ve wanted for years. To know endless pleasure by my hands of mastery. Agree, and I will give it to you. Fight, like you continue to do as you squirm your lithe little body beneath mine, and I will take it from you anyway.”

Darkness pressed in from all sides as my vision narrowed. Her grasp pressed ever so perfectly, and within seconds, I succumbed to the ceaseless nothing.

A thin shattering of glass and a sharp, shrill cry echoed through the emptiness like a distant memory. Light returned, and the room focused as I shook my head, but nowhere near fast enough. The succubus snatched me up from the floor like a child clutching a favored doll. Tiny diamonds of glass tumbled from my hair, my coat, and when she turned me about, I saw Sam and Castiel standing at the front of the shop, guns loaded for bare.

“Hand her over!” Sam barked. “Now!”

“Or what?” the succubus seethed. “You’ll shoot me? You’ll have to shoot her fir—”

“They might.” The thunk of the rifle at the back of the succubus’ head snapped my attention behind her. There, Dean glared at the end of his short barrel and said, “But I won’t.”

Another blinding flash of power roared through the room as everything happened at once. The succubus flung me from her arms, and I soared across the room to crash into Sam. We toppled together to the floor, and not a beat behind me, Dean and his shotgun followed. He rolled as he landed, but barreled into Castiel, who only just caught him.

An infuriating lilt of her humming pleasure caught us all off guard. “You brought men to defend you?” She howled with haunting laughter. “Maybe you are not so bright after all,” she simpered with a wave of her hand.

On pins and needles, I could only watch as Sam, Dean, and even Castiel reached for their heads, and Sam squeezed his eyes shut. But just as I had resisted her magic, so did they. A few shakes of their heads and a breath later, Dean picked up his shotgun, Castiel aimed with his once more, and Sam helped me to my feet. As I stepped back, my heel kicked something hard, larger than the shards of glass strewn about the shop’s entry, but I dared not look down as the succubus advanced on us.

“Oh,” she mused as she took her sensuous rolling steps. “Your friends are strong, too. Stronger than you? Will I break all four of you? Together?”

“Back off, bitch.”

The crack of Dean’s shotgun exploded in the tiny shop, and my ears rang for several seconds before I heard more pealing laughter from the succubus. Rock salt lay scattered on the ground a foot before her as though it had hit an impenetrable wall. “You think you can just shoot me, Dean Winchester?”

Dean balked then, appearing shocked to hear his own name. “No. You don’t know me. Don’t even pretend like you do.”

“Oh, but I do,” she said as she stepped once more. In that second, her skin shimmered and shifted until it transformed into a dark suit, blue tie, and tan trench coat. “I know everything about you.”

Her eyes turned brilliant emerald green as they snapped to Castiel. “And you. The disgraced angel, Castiel, who once tempted the fate of the entire world by becoming God. The things I would love to do to—”

“Shut it,” Sam hissed as he raised his shotgun.

The succubus looked at the rock salt at her feet, then back to Sam. “What makes you think your gun will work after his didn’t?”

“I’m not packin’ rock salt, honey,” he stated. “Now back up.”

“My dear Sam, do not make me…” her voice clipped short as she hesitated, then her coat and suit shifted to match my own outfit. She turned to me, and her clothing twisted into Sam’s burnt orange jacket. “Well, aren’t I a lucky girl?” Her clothing vanished in a shiver befitting a burlesque dancer. “Four pining souls all desperate for pleasure. You’ve come to the right place. I think I’ll start with you.”

When the succubus pointed, Dean choked as though on cue. His shotgun dropped from his hands and clattered to the floor, and though it was within reach, I dared not move. Sam and Castiel raised their rifles to shoot, but a flippant wave of her free hand sent them flying into the opposite wall of the shop. They crashed into the ornate furniture in a hail of wood and metal, then collapsed beneath the rubble. Where Sam had slumped motionless, Castiel remained conscious, but he struggled to do even that.

“Cas, you hold on!” Dean choked. “Y/N, help him!”

With a subtle shift in her pointing hand, Dean rose to the tips of his boots, barely touching the floor. I alone remained standing, but mine was no longer the only life on the line. Once more, I stood at the crossroads and had to commit to a path.

I dropped to the floor for the rifle, and no sooner than my hands graced the stock, it sailed across the room. “Dean goes first,” the succubus declared. “Then once I’m through with him, I’ll break Sam. And then you.” She turned back to Dean. “While your big, dumb men watch.”

“Don’t you touch them!” Dean choked as he clawed at his neck. The tips of his boots scraped the floor where the succubus dangled him. “I’ll fucking kill you if you lay a single finger on any of them!” 

One heeled foot stepped in front of the other as the succubus closed the space between her and Dean. “Your brother was supposed to be my king. Did you know that?” she breathed. “You could be my king, and I’ll serve you however you see fit. I’ll leave her alone. I’ll leave Sam alone. I’ll even leave dear, sweet Castiel alone.”

She looked to Castiel, who stumbled through the rubble to rouse Sam’s motionless body. “Look at him. Bumbling fool,” she hissed. “What do you see in him that you don’t see in me? I can give you so much more.”

Dean tried to choke out another retort, but her invisible grip at his throat tightened. When she reached him, she pressed her entire body against his, and a virulent wave of power roared to life around them, crackling like fire but dark as night. A violently lewd shiver coursed through her, running from shoulder to tail as she moaned, and Dean’s face turned a putrid shade of green I had never seen on a human before. “Aw, you don’t like being choked? Poor thing. You’re missing out. I can teach you to love it.” Her long forked tongue teased at Dean’s jaw, and she moaned again as he jerked his head away from her violently.

In one infinitesimal second, horrors unlike any I had experienced before flashed before my mind’s eye. In the next breath, those terrible visions faded in a haze of red, insatiable bloodlust. No coherent thought penetrated that curtain of rage, that raw, unbridled fury, and I committed for the third and final time that night.

Fast as lightning, I lunged. My machete lay where I had unknowingly kicked it not minutes earlier. In an odd twist of fate, it had come to rest in a place so perfect. I could not have picked it ahead of time, given a chance. In a move that put Neo to shame, I rolled through the wild dive for the machete and sprang to my feet, armed. Distracted so by her prey, the succubus turned too late to defend herself. And I wasn’t about to let her get the last word before I snuffed out the wick that was her pathetic existence.

“Choke on this, you sick son of a bitch.”

Steal sang through the air, harmony to the melody of my frenzied scream, and sliced through her skin, sinew, and bone like a hot knife through butter. A fine black mist of demon blood billowed from the strike, covering my face. As the succubus’s decapitated head and body dropped to the floor in a resounding thud, a thin arc of demon blood lanced across Dean’s chest, and he vomited.

He continued to wretch until Castiel rushed from the heap of broken furniture and wrapped one arm around Dean’s back as the other cupped his forehead. Dean gasped, plunged so suddenly beneath the icy waves of healing. But as quickly as Dean’s nausea had come on, it passed in the wake of Castiel’s touch, and he stood tall once more. When Dean nodded in reassurance, Castiel headed back for Sam as he stirred to life in the rubble.

Black runnels of thick blood ran in rivulets down the blade of my machete. White knuckles yet clutched the hilt, and a moment passed before reality, dancing at the edges of my consciousness, sank in. Those were my knuckles, stiff and shaking under straining muscles. A freak spasm snapped my fingers apart, and the blade thumped to the floor.

“Hey,” Dean started as he neared me. “Keep it together, Y/N. You did what you had to do. Look at me. Focus on me.”

Lingering bouts of rage trickled through my blood and rendered my mind near useless. Dean’s lips moved, but I hardly heard a sound, his voice muted. That suffocating rage dragged me down like a treacherous undertow. I did my best to read his lips. Did what you had to. Look. Focus. He pointed two fingers at me, at my eyes, then at himself.

I only noticed Castiel had returned with Sam in tow after Dean had turned to ensure they were alright. A short, muted conversation passed between them, but when Sam spotted me, he closed the remaining space between us and asked, “Do you want to leave?”

The silence shattered, and I heard his voice clear as a bell. But with that clarity came understanding. My stare had unwittingly fallen on the lifeless body, once virile and full of limitless power, sprawled on the floor, her head a few feet away. Even in death, the overt lust of the succubus imposed, branding my mind with an indelible memory I begged to forget.

And then she was gone, blocked by Sam’s broad shoulders and towering frame. “Cas and Dean can handle the body,” he said as he reached for me. I recoiled, an unbidden reaction that surprised even myself. A pained frown I never wished to see again knotted Sam’s brow. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry you went through this alone. It was a terrible plan—”

He choked on his words as I lunged into his arms again, and he remained quiet as he held me. In that moment of silence, I wanted nothing more than to scream, to take out every ounce of my furious hatred for that abomination on her corpse. But the longer I breathed in Sam’s embrace—free of any oakmoss or elderberry, thank Christ—that righteous rage subsided.

“Jesus. No wonder men just fall into their laps,” Dean commented.

I looked past Sam to find Dean and Castiel looming over the body of the succubus.

“I never understood why God created humans to be so…” Castiel paused as he neared the head. “So…”

“Simple?” Dean asked. “So easily fooled? So… basic?”

Castiel nodded. “Yes.”

Dean managed a chuckle at that. “I wish I knew, too.” He paused as he stared at her for one lingering moment. “I hate everything about this. Let’s torch the body outside of town and get the hell out of here.” He tossed a heavy burlap bag at Castiel.

“Why do you hate them so much?” Castiel asked as he caught the bag.

“Because,” Dean grunted, “it’s not fun if it’s not consensual. And if there’s one thing a succubus gets off on most, it’s an extreme lack of consent. And that is fucking gross.”

As Sam led me to the shop’s front door, I glimpsed the tiniest reassured smile on Castiel’s face. And then I understood.

The tarot cards had been right all along.

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