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deepspacedukat · 2 years

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The Only One - Part 4: Bajor’s Hand And An Urge

Obviously, this fic is an AU of some description, so don’t expect it to adhere too strictly to the plots of the episodes mentioned. I only did spoiler warnings because there are certain elements of those episodes that are included in this chapter. ALSO, this chapter is somewhere around 9300 words long, so um...be prepared for a long read. Part 4 is cross-posted to AO3 here.

Part 1 here. Part 2 here. Part 3 here. Part 5 here. Part 6 here.

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Weyoun 5 (ST:DS9) x Reader

[A/N: Spoilers for S3E1&2 “The Search” Parts 1&2, S3E21 “The Die Is Cast,” and S5E25 “In The Cards”. If you haven’t seen those episodes yet, you’ve been warned. Also there will be smut in future parts and there are some mentions of nsfw adjacent-ish things in this chapter, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Mostly feelings, angst, pining, Woun being an adorable Vorta muffin, instinct-driven pilgrimages, and some empathic bullshit that you’re just gonna have to deal with, because it makes me happy okay???? It’s my story, and it’ll give me pain and serotonin in turns if I want it to. *insert “It is law” gif here mentally cuz I’m too lazy to do it myself*

~*~

About two and a half months later, I overheard a conversation between Captain Sisko and Major Kira detailing the impending arrival of a Dominion ship for the purpose of conducting diplomatic talks with Kai Winn. As I stood at my station in Ops, I felt a little thrill of hope. The Dominion had more than one Vorta, of course, but I couldn’t help but hope that maybe Weyoun would be assigned to this mission. My console chirped at me, and I saw an incoming transmission.

“I’m receiving a subspace transmission from a Dominion ship for you, Captain,” I called, and at his request, I redirected it to his office. Before I could do so much as begin to eavesdrop, Major Kira ordered Dax to send the Dominion ship to docking bay three. It was mere moments before Captain Sisko re-emerged and walked over to my station.

“I’d like you to join me at the airlock,” he said, and at my confused sounding ‘yes, sir’ he smiled. “You seem to have more of a tolerance for the Vorta than I do. It might be best if you’re there to smooth things over.”

“Yes, sir,” I acknowledged, and ignoring the buzz of anticipation that went through me at the possibility, I went to the turbolift with my C.O. The walk to the docking bay was both too long and too short all at the same time. Clasping my hands behind my back to hide how they were shaking, I stood at attention at one side as we reached the airlock door. I felt as nervous as a cadet on their first assignment. The door to the airlock began to roll open and I took a deep breath.

He was here. Weyoun was back! As he stepped through the doorway and caught sight of me, his polite smile previously directed at the Captain morphed into a real one. Surprise and elation flitted across his features as I couldn’t stop a smile from splitting my lips wide. He was here, he was really here! Even the two Jem’Hadar guards looming behind him couldn’t stifle my joy.

“Captain, Lieutenant, it is such a pleasure to see you both again,” he gushed taking one of my hands in his and bringing it to his lips with a dramatic flourish and a wink. My cheeks burned knowing that my commanding officer had witnessed the gesture, but after he’d seen us holding hands in Quark’s, I doubted he was surprised.

“I wish I could say the same,” Captain Sisko said sardonically, and Weyoun let out a small laugh.

“How delightful! You feel comfortable enough around me to make jokes. I’m so pleased to see our relationship evolving beyond the stale adversarial stage,” he said facing the Captain with a slightly more diplomatic smile.

“No, it’s not. But before you twist that into a compliment, let me be blunt. I don’t like the Dominion, I don’t like what it stands for, and I don’t like you,” Sisko said, and Weyoun’s smile fell slowly away. “So, let’s dispense with the hollow pleasantries and stick to business.”

“I can’t tell you how much it pains me to hear you say that, Captain. You see, I really like Deep Space Nine, I like you, and I’m quite fond of the Lieutenant here,” he said with a small smile directed my way. “After this meeting with Kai Winn, I think you and I will be seeing a lot more of each other.”

“Lieutenant, escort Weyoun to the conference room to await the Kai’s arrival,” the Captain said, completely ignoring the Vorta’s statement as he gestured down the corridor.

“If you’ll come with me, sir,” I said giving Weyoun a warm smile as I saw his eyes flick over to meet mine. As the two of us began to make our way there, I took a chance and linked my arm with Weyoun’s. He looked at me with delighted surprise. “For what it’s worth, I’m quite fond of you, too.”

“Believe me, my dear, it means a great deal to me,” the Vorta said as he waved his Jem’Hadar guards back a few feet to give us some privacy to speak without being overheard. “You look lovely as usual. I trust you’ve been treated well?”

“Of course I have. Deep Space Nine is my home,” I intoned with a slight huff of laughter. “What about you? How’ve you been?”

“Oh, quite well, my dear, though I...” he drew us both to a stop in a quiet alcove of an empty corridor and turned to face me. He seemed almost nervous as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “I must admit, I’ve felt the lack of your presence keenly over the time I’ve been away.”

There was something just beneath the surface as he spoke – something was begging to burst forth from his lips, yet he held it back, whatever it was. Perhaps it was the same thing I didn’t dare admit to myself.

“Being around you...steadies me,” he admitted, and that statement felt a bit closer to the truth. We’d both been dancing around it for so long, that forbidden feeling that had been building since the day we met. I’d felt drawn to Weyoun from the moment I laid eyes on him. What remained to be seen was whether that was just the Founder’s genetic programming or if there really was something more.

“I know exactly what you mean,” I answered in a weighted sort of voice. He was adept at reading me. I could only hope he could see what it was that I was trying to communicate beyond these oh-so-inadequate words. With a soft smile, Weyoun brushed a few strands of hair behind my ear, letting the pads of his fingers skim over its outer edge and sending a light shiver through me as my cheeks heated from the attention. It was such a little thing, that touch, but it felt as though electricity had surged through me at every point of contact. At the awkward shuffling of Jem’Hadar feet behind us, I let out a slightly nervous laugh and averted my gaze from Weyoun’s. “We shouldn’t be late for your visit with the Kai...”

“No, indeed,” he agreed with a mischievous little gleam in his eye. Surely he had known what he was doing to me? I was convinced of his attempt to fluster me even as he linked our arms once again and we resumed our trek to the conference room that had been assigned for the diplomatic talks. “Are you familiar with the Kai?”

“We’ve met once or twice before. She’s...” I trailed off searching for the right way to describe her while still remaining polite. “She’s determined and...let’s just say she’s...not my favorite person to be around if you catch my drift.”

“Oh my. She must have done something truly odious to have garnered such distaste from you of all people,” Weyoun murmured sounding slightly amused. “Any pointers?”

“Now now, you know the Federation has a non-interference policy,” I said in a mock-chastising tone. “I can’t give you any advantages, much as I might dislike the Kai.”

“Ah, yes. The ‘Prime Directive.’ I’d nearly forgotten about that. My apologies, I didn’t mean to ask for more than you’re at liberty to say,” he said with an amused smile. “At least answer me this: will I need earplugs?”

“Undoubtedly,” I remarked, to which Weyoun winced. Much sooner than I’d have liked, we reached the doors to the conference room. I thought he’d leave me there, but I was wrong.

“Guard the doors,” the Vorta called to the two Jem’Hadar, who dutifully took up their places as I was pulled inside the room in question. As soon as the doors hissed closed, Weyoun brought both my hands to his lips and looked at me with an expression that was so openly joyful it brought a tear to my eye. “Forgive my presumptuous behavior, but I refuse to see the Kai without a moment alone with you. I truly did miss you, my dear.”

“I missed you, too. Perhaps when the first round of talks is done we can get together for dinner? After all, I did promise to teach you kal-toh,” I suggested, and Weyoun’s smile split even wide – a feat I hadn’t imagined possible.

“That sounds wonderful!” He exclaimed as the doors slid open to reveal the Kai. Seeing our position, she raised an eyebrow and gave me a blatantly false smile, even as Weyoun kept talking. “As soon as we conclude for the night, I’ll come to your quarters.”

I was torn between happiness at getting to see more of the Vorta and mortified at what Kai Winn must think given her lack of context. On the one hand, she might see this as sleeping with the enemy, but on the other, I couldn’t quite see why it should even matter in the first place. So what if a Bajoran spiritual leader read further into a conversation than she should? I knew the truth.

“Goodness, child. You keep some...exotic company,” she said in her usual poisonously, falsely pleasant tone. She reminded me of a passive-aggressive nun for what was definitely not the first time. “You may leave now.”

The annoyance that flitted over Weyoun’s features was quickly masked by a too-polite-to-be-real smile. I gave him a small nod and made my way to the door.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, child?” I paused at the sound of Winn’s voice and turned slightly toward her with a curious raise of an eyebrow. “You seem to have mislaid your loyalty and self-respect.”

Not wanting to create a diplomatic incident, I laughed like she’d made a mildly-amusing joke.

“Very good, Your Imminence. You had me going for a moment,” I said before exiting the room with my head held high. For a split second, I wondered how out-of-commission I’d be if I were ever to tell Kai Winn what I actually thought of her. No, she wasn’t worth the trouble I’d be in. I could only hope I’d be able to avoid her for the remainder of her stay on the station.

Several hours later when I covered a sick officer’s shift, I could have cried. Reluctantly, I’d made sure to send a note to Weyoun to let him know I couldn’t make our dinner engagement, but it pained me to have to cancel our plans. Of all the days for somebody to catch the Thelusian flu, it just had to be when Weyoun was finally back on the station, didn’t it? If I tapped away at my console in Ops a little more vigorously than was required, surely that wasn’t my fault. First Kai Winn’s remarks, and now this emergency late shift. Anyone would be frustrated in my position...right?

“Everything alright, Lieutenant?” O’Brien called with an amused, pointed glance between my console and myself.

“Yes, sir. I had a conversation with Kai Winn earlier, that’s all.” I may have conveniently left out the bit about Weyoun and dinner, but he didn’t need to know about that. A bark of sympathetic laughter came from the Chief Engineer as he moved toward a panel he needed to service.

“Ah, lemme guess: she decided something yeh said or did was fer the common folk and turned her nose up, right?” At my nod of confirmation, he shook his head. “Don’t let it get teh yeh. She’d judge even a Vedek as pond scum if it suited her fancy. She’s not worth yer energy. She’ll come off her high horse eventually.”

“Thanks, Chief. I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied with a smile. The jovial Irishman always did know what to say to cheer me up. We’d been working for barely a few minutes more when the lift arrived carrying Odo, who was holding a small bouquet of purple and white flowers arranged in a blue vase. As I watched curiously, Odo strode right over to my station looking slightly...well, if he was human I’d say he looked constipated.

“Lieutenant, I just caught one of the Jem’Hadar trying to access the lift to Ops. He told me he was ordered by Weyoun to bring these to you,” the Changeling said as he set the vase on the console in front of me and handed me a PADD. “I took the liberty of conducting a few scans to make sure the flowers weren’t harmful to humanoids, but...I think we both know the Vorta wouldn’t harm you any more than he would me.”

Curiously, I opened the note on the data PADD.

“My Dear Lieutenant - I’m sorry to hear about your extended shift, but perhaps you’d be open to meeting me for breakfast instead? I’d be delighted to be your host for a change. Should you decide to accept, I’ll have one of my Jem’Hadar waiting to escort you to our ship at 0900. In the meantime, I hope this floral arrangement will brighten the mood of your station while you work, and later, your quarters. I hope to see you in the morning. - Weyoun”

A small smile wound across my mouth at the Vorta’s note, and I absentmindedly thanked Odo for bringing the flowers and note. With a polite nod, the Changeling made his way back to the lift.

“Weyoun sent that to you?” The Chief asked as he made his way over to my station. “Looks like he asked Garak for some advice. That’s the same arrangement I gave to Keiko a couple of weeks before she went to Bajor for her ecological study.”

The thought that he’d cared enough to seek advice from the tailor made something in me go all mushy. After all, I was the one who canceled on him. He didn’t need to go to all this trouble just to make me smile. And yet...he had.

I decided right then and there that I’d make it to breakfast with him if it was the last thing I did.

True to Weyoun’s word, there was a Jem’Hadar soldier waiting stalwartly outside the door to my quarters at a few minutes to nine in the morning.

“I am First, Founder. Come with me,” he said giving me a respectful nod of his head. I joined him with a quiet ‘thank you’ and we made our way to the docking ring. “Did your delivery from the Vorta arrive safely?”

“Yes, it did. Thank you. I wasn’t told who it was that tried to deliver it to me, but please pass on my gratitude to whichever of your men was kind enough to make the attempt,” I said with a smile, but the man remained as stoic as ever.

“Kindness had nothing to do with it. Obedience brings victory,” he intoned. “And victory is life.”

He reminded me so strongly of Omet’iklan that I felt a small pulse of protectiveness over Weyoun as he spoke. If this First was planning to do what Omet’iklan had done, I wasn’t about to let it happen without a fight. As the airlock doors slid open, the Jem’Hadar led me through the ship to a closed door. Pressing the chime, the soldier took his place guarding the hall.

Almost as soon as the chime ended, the door slid open to reveal Weyoun looking anxious. His lips broke into a wide, surprised smile as soon as he recognized me.

“Good morning, my dear! I thought for a moment that you might not come,” he said sounding a bit sheepish. “Come in, come in!”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t jump at the chance to see you again?” I asked with a playful smile as I stepped into the room. Allowing my eyes to travel the space, I saw that it was all rather spartan. I supposed that was only natural given who Weyoun worked for. It wouldn’t be very on par for the Founders to allow their minions any luxuries. These were clearly his quarters, though. I could see a bed through a small doorway to the side of the space, and for a moment, I allowed myself to indulge in imagining what it would be like to wake up in bed surrounded by the Vorta’s scent...

“Is everything alright, Lieutenant?” The question from my side brought me out of my thoughts and back to reality. Now I just had to make sure he didn’t find out what I’d just been imagining.

“Yes. Yeah, everything is fine. Your quarters are lovely,” I answered, and the Vorta gave me a rather knowing smile.

“Thank you, my dear, but as I’m sure you’ve noticed, there aren’t any personal items. Your space is much more welcoming, if I may be so bold,” Weyoun said offering me his hand. Without so much as a thought, I laid my own in his gasp, barely blinking as he drew me closer to him. “It’s such a pleasure to have you here this morning. You were entirely correct about Kai Winn, by the way. By the time we finished last night all I could think of was...”

He trailed off with a nervous laugh, and I looked at him curiously.

“All you could think of was...?” I asked, quietly trying to encourage him to continue. Eventually, he did in a low, hesitant voice as he refused to meet my gaze.

“All I could think of...was how much I wished I could be in your company instead. I wished so desperately that I could hear your laughter to wipe away the sound of her irritating voice,” he admitted softly before something more determined washed over his expression. “And I...well, I wasn’t exactly trying to despise her, but after her remarks to you I couldn’t help it.”

“Don’t worry about that. She’s never been the most polite person,” I said trying to soothe his ire. “You, however, are incredibly kind. The flowers you sent me are gorgeous. You really didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”

“‘Trouble’? Oh no, my dear, that was a pleasure,” Weyoun said before leading me to a small table. “But, that aside, do please catch me up. How’ve you been? I feel as though I’ve missed out on so much already, and I don’t want to waste another moment.”

“Only if you’ll do the same for me,” I bargained, and he acquiesced with a playful little smile. The next few hours were spent swapping stories between the two of us. There was always the hidden danger that we could influence each other or give away diplomatic secrets, but there was an unspoken agreement that floated between us. Neither of us asked questions beyond the personal. It was no secret that he was a Dominion Ambassador, just as it was public knowledge that I was a Starfleet officer. Neither of us insulted the other by questioning our respective loyalties to our own sides, for which I was immensely grateful.

By the time Weyoun needed to make his way to the conference room once more, his fingers had been laced firmly with mine for the better part of an hour with no sign of separation imminent. Before I realized what was happening, I found myself escorting him to his destination, walking hand-in-hand with him through the various station corridors while we continued our conversation. Things were lighter now - easier, somehow - a fact that surprised me, as there had never been any tension between us to start with. At least, none of the unpleasant sort. And yet...it felt as though some invisible weight had been lifted, giving way for more natural interactions. Not that our interactions were unnatural or forced before – Weyoun had always made me feel extremely comfortable in conversation. Now, though, talking with him felt as easy as breathing. Inhale, exhale...question, answer.

As the door to the conference room slid open to reveal the already-seated Kai, Weyoun turned to me and brought my hands to his lips with a glint of defiance flashing in his eyes.

“Thank you for joining me this morning. There is no greater pleasure in the galaxy than that of your company,” he said just loud enough that I was certain beyond the shadow of a doubt that Winn had heard him. Turning to face her with his hands still firmly holding mine, Weyoun fixed her with one of those piercing looks I’d become so accustomed to. “Doesn’t the Lieutenant look lovely, Your Imminence? And to think, I was the one she chose to spend her morning with.”

“She does, indeed.” The Kai answered, and I realized what the Vorta was doing. He was making this into a diplomatic issue. She could either agree with his assessment or risk an incident between Bajor and the Dominion. “Though I must admit, I find myself rather confused, child. I was under the impression that the Federation was to remain neutral as this is a purely internal affair between Bajor and the Dominion.”

“Oh, we are. I was just having breakfast with an old friend,” I said squeezing Weyoun’s hands softly. “I should be going.”

“Of course, child. You may leave now,” the Kai said, and something akin to anger simmered in Weyoun’s countenance under just enough of a mask that she wouldn’t see. I knew him well enough to recognize it. Placing a hand gently on Weyoun’s chest, I murmured a quiet ‘thank you for breakfast’ before making my way out. I only hoped that Weyoun wouldn’t let her get under his skin – the opposite of what a good Federation officer should be thinking, but then...I wasn’t exactly the best example of a Federation officer.

After all, what good person ever harbored affection for the enemy?

Hours after the negotiations had resumed, I received a summons from Odo about a security matter, so I made my way through the hustle and bustle of the Promenade toward the Changeling’s office.

“Good afternoon, Constable. What was it you wanted to see me ab–” As I saw one of the displays on the wall near his desk, I froze as though I was a holoprogram that had been paused. On the monitor was a map of some sort of nebula, but not one that I’d seen before. My breath caught in my throat and I felt as though I was being pulled toward the monitor like a puppet on a string. “What is that?”

“Hm? Oh, that is the Omarion Nebula,” Odo answered in his usual gruff tone, but his chair swiveled quickly toward me when he noticed that all I could seem to do was stare at the computer’s display, motionless and silent as if transfixed. “Lieutenant...what are you feeling right now?”

“I...I don’t know. This...it’s strange. It’s as if...as if I...Odo, can you take me there?” I asked breathlessly, desperately, even though I had no idea why I’d even want to go there in the first place. It was as though some long-buried instinct was beginning to scratch away at my will and scream at me to begin the journey without delay. My life seemingly depended on it - of course in reality it didn’t, so why did I feel that way? This was just a star chart. Why would an image on a monitor make me feel an almost crippling urge to go to...wherever the hell the Omarion Nebula was?

“You feel it calling to you, don’t you?” He asked quietly, and without conscious thought, I nodded my head unable to tear my eyes away from the screen. “I was afraid you’d say that. Come with me, Lieutenant.”

“Are you taking me to the nebula?” I asked feeling hope bubbling up in my chest as Odo’s hand took up residence on my back and he guided me out of his office toward a turbolift.

“Perhaps later. First, we need to see Captain Sisko. Urgently,” he said before calling for the lift to take us to Ops.

“No, Odo, you don’t understand. I need to go to the Omarion Nebula. Now, not later,” I said, and he turned me gently to face him with his hands grasping my shoulders.

“I understand much better than you think. Trust me like you always do, Lieutenant. I promise I’ll explain everything when we get to the Captain’s office,” he murmured looking into my eyes. Despite the growing, overpowering feeling that I needed to leave now - now, nownow, right now, not later, NOW - I took a slow, steadying breath and nodded my head. “Everything will be alright.”

“I’ve been what?” I asked feeling stunned and violated as indignance flooded my voice. Even as my arms wrapped protectively around my middle, Odo placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“They did it to me too. All Changeling offspring are programmed with an instinct to return home. Mine was triggered when we were on the Defiant years ago. I caught a glimpse of the Omarion Nebula on a computer layout, as you just did, and the instinct to return home overruled any of my other thoughts and feelings. It even beat out my sense of duty,” Odo explained, and that certainly made sense. This...urge felt as though it was simply scraping away my free will, extracting it and replacing it with the almost frantic need to get in a runabout and go. “If the information I gathered from the Female Changeling during my own visit is anything to go by, then the only way to stop this sort of homing beacon is to return to the Changelings’ home planet.”

“She can’t do that. The Jem’Hadar would never allow her into Dominion territory. No Federation ship, shuttle, or runabout would survive the trip, especially after the incident involving the Tal Shiar and Tain,” the Captain stated, and I had a thought - a crazy thought, but one that just might work.

“Sir, what about Weyoun? He’s on the station conducting negotiations with Kai Winn. He views me as the child of his gods, so maybe I could convince him to take me there. After all, he came in a Dominion vessel,” I suggested, and the Captain raised an eyebrow.

“And what makes you think he wouldn’t betray you?”

“Captain, he has made it clear to me that he would take orders from me just as he would from any of the other Changelings. He wouldn’t betray me - that would be like betraying one of his gods.” I hated my reasoning, but I knew it was correct. Odo made a grunt of agreement next to me.

“She’s right. I’ve seen the way he treats her. He’ll help if she asks him to,” Odo said, and the Captain sighed heavily before tapping his combadge.

“Sisko to Weyoun,” he called, and when the Vorta answered he hesitated only a moment before giving his order. “I need you in my office. Immediately.”

“Of course, Captain. I’m on my way now,” he answered, and I took a shaky, nervous breath as I met the Captain’s eyes.

“Sir, I-I’m sorry. I know this isn’t exactly convenient–” I started, but he held up a hand to silence me.

“This situation isn’t your fault. You never asked for the Founders to program you. My only concern right now is for the safety and well-being of the officers under my command, and that includes you, Lieutenant,” he said giving me a small, fatherly smile. We hadn’t been waiting for long when the office door slid open with a hiss. I already felt ashamed that I’d caused such a dilemma that I couldn’t bring myself to face Weyoun and his gaze that always seemed to know too much about how I was feeling.

“Are you well, Lieutenant?” The Vorta asked standing beside the chair I was seated in. Hesitantly, I glanced up only to find Weyoun’s eyes already fixed on me and an expression of concern woven across his features. I felt heat rise to my cheeks as I looked quickly away, gathering my thoughts and trying to figure out how to approach the question I needed to ask. One of Weyoun’s hands rested carefully on my shoulder, and my mind jolted into clarity for a moment.

That was odd. At least I could think a little more coherently for the time being.

“I need your help, Weyoun,” I answered quietly, and as I looked back up at him, he gave me a reassuring smile.

“You need only name how I may assist you, and I will make it happen,” he answered, and Odo spoke up, sparing me the embarrassment of explaining the situation myself.

“I’ll be brief. The Founders encode their offspring with a sort of homing instinct. Mine was triggered years ago, and until a few minutes ago, I wasn’t sure if the Lieutenant would have the same reaction. She is half-human, after all,” Odo said gruffly. “In short, she does and the only way to silence it is to bring her to the Founders’ home planet. We can’t bring her there in any of our Federation vessels.”

“I thought that...maybe you could help,” I muttered looking up at him. “I know you have your orders and that you need to conduct your negotiations with Kai Winn, but...you came here in a Dominion ship...”

Weyoun smiled widely as he caught my meaning.

“You wish me to bring you home?” He asked, and I placed my hand over his where it still rested on my shoulder.

“Sort of? I need to get there to shut off this homing instinct, but I also need to come back here to Deep Space Nine,” I clarified, and Weyoun positively glowed despite my added condition.

“Your wish is my command! I’ll have my ship prepared immediately. Negotiations with the Kai are paused due to her need to consult with the Bajoran Ministers, so we’ll have ample time for the trip,” he said, and the Captain cleared his throat.

“I want your word that you will conduct my officer there and back again safely,” Sisko stated in a tone that brooked no argument.

“You have my word, Captain. I would never allow any harm to come to her,” Weyoun promised, but that wasn’t quite good enough for the Captain who stood and moved directly in front of the Vorta.

“If she ordered you to bring her back to Deep Space Nine without having reached the planet, would you do it?” He pressed, and Weyoun looked at him quizzically.

“Of course. She is a Founder, even if only by half. I’m sworn to obey the Founders in all things. She will be in command of the ship, not I,” he clarified, and I felt my eyes widen. “Any orders she gives will be carried out, you have my word.”

“They’d better be,” Odo growled. “If you or any of your men let her get hurt, I promise that you’ll wish you’d never lived to be cloned.”

Weyoun gave a deferential half-bow to the Security Chief.

“She will have safe passage and be treated as nothing less than royalty. I swear on my life she will not be harmed,” he said before turning to me. “I’ll have my men prepare the ship. We should be ready for departure in less than an hour. We’ll be away from the station for a few days, so if there’s anything you need to pack, I’d suggest you do so, my dear.”

“I will. Thank you,” I answered feeling somewhere between anxious, excited, giddy, and absolutely terrified. As soon as his hand left my shoulder, my thoughts began to race again - that was something I’d definitely have to look into while we were traveling. Odo walked up to me and looked into my eyes when the Vorta had left.

“Be careful, Lieutenant. Keep our training in mind,” he ordered, and I gave him a quick ‘yes, sir’ before thanking the Captain and leaving his office to get packed. What the hell was a person supposed to pack for an instinct-driven trip into a hostile part of the galaxy, anyway?

As I stepped through the airlock with a small bag slung across my shoulder, Weyoun was there to meet me.

“Welcome aboard, my dear,” he said with a wide smile. He gestured to one of the Jem’Hadar. “Take the Founder’s bag to her quarters.”

In the interval since we’d last spoken, I felt just that much closer to insanity. What the hell sort of sadistic homing urge was this? I felt as though I could barely think beyond the need to get to the nebula. I barely heard any of the introductions to the Jem’Hadar soldiers despite my attempts to focus. Weyoun escorted me to the bridge of the ship where the Jem’Hadar stood to attention when they saw me - as any Starfleet crew would if an Admiral were to come aboard. I supposed I would have to go along with this if I was going to survive the journey. Giving the order to depart the station, I felt a brief surge of what it must be like for Captain Sisko to be in command of the Defiant. Did he feel the same anticipation at the start of a journey, or was that something else unique to this Founders-be-damned homing instinct?

After passing through the wormhole without incident and ordering the course to the Omarion Nebula, I stayed at my post in the Captain’s chair for several hours, trying to keep my mind occupied with the task at hand: reaching the nebula and commanding a starship for the first time. All things considered, I really should have been more nervous than I was. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that all I could seem to focus on was reaching the Changelings’ planet.

Several hours into the trip, Weyoun cleared his throat beside me.

“Lieutenant, may I have a word in private?” He asked, and I agreed readily.

“You have the bridge, First,” I ordered, and at the soldier’s salute, I walked with Weyoun into the Dominion ship’s equivalent of a Captain’s ready room. As soon as the doors hissed closed, Weyoun took hold of my hands. My breath shuddered a bit at the clarity that washed over me when his skin made contact with mine. There had to be some sort of biological connection that the Changelings encoded between themselves and the Vorta that was making me react this way.

Concern flowed over me and through me – at me? – and I saw my own confusion mirrored in Weyoun’s eyes.

“Did you feel that?” He asked quietly, and I nodded my head hesitantly. “Perhaps the genetic coding that causes this homing instinct is reacting differently because of your human half. Can you...feel others as well?”

“No...No, just you,” I answered trying to gather my fragmented thoughts. “There’s something else as well. When...Each time that you are in physical contact with me, my mind goes quiet.”

Weyoun tilted his head in confusion, and I tried to explain the best that I could.

“It feels as though my brain is full of subspace interference and you cut through it all. For some reason, you’re helping me focus,” I murmured as my cheeks heated in embarrassment. Surely now he would think I was insane if he hadn’t before.

“How intriguing,” he breathed, and I felt several positive emotions swirling together from him. “This must be some sort of imprinting mechanism. Perhaps the Founders realized that their offspring might need some assistance. A connection like this would certainly help any Vorta in their company understand their needs more clearly.”

Odo hadn’t mentioned any of this from his own trip, but then, he hadn’t been anywhere near a Vorta at the time. Oh shit, how much could Weyoun feel from me, if I could sense his emotions?

I had my answer a mere moment later when Weyoun drew me into his arms and kissed my forehead so fucking gently.

“You have nothing to fear. You’re safe with me.” His promise struck a chord, and I found myself nodding my head silently in his embrace. “It has been a long day. Perhaps I should escort you to your quarters so you can rest?”

That...actually sounded heavenly. I agreed quietly, and with Weyoun’s hand on my lower back, we exited the ready room and gave a few final orders to the Jem’Hadar before heading to the turbolift. Within moments we were arriving outside a set of quarters that I noted was directly next door to the ones Weyoun occupied. When the Vorta made to leave me in peace, I was ashamed at how much anxiety washed over me. I couldn’t stop myself from clasping his hands in mine.

“W-Would...? I mean, you’re probably busy or have better things to do, but...could...you maybe stay? Just for a bit?” I hated how shaky my voice was, but to my surprise, Weyoun just smiled, opened the door to my quarters, and walked inside with me as if I hadn’t just sounded completely pathetic. If he still viewed me as the child of his gods, there was no doubt in my mind that he was seeing more clearly how limited of a being I was for the supposed half-deity he thought I was.

Without a word spoken between the two of us, we walked to the bedroom and laid down together, our shoes having been discarded somewhere between the door and the bed. Weyoun’s asymmetrical vest had also been removed revealing the soft shirt he wore beneath it, and as I took my place in bed beside him, I hesitated. I’d thought about falling asleep in his arms so many times, but was that something he’d be comfortable with? Sensing my reluctance, the Vorta gave me a warm smile and opened his arms.

“It’s alright,” he murmured gently. “I don’t bite, I promise.”

An image I really should not have thought about went through my mind of his teeth worrying a sensitive spot on my neck. I shook it away and carefully laid down in his arms.

“There we are,” he practically purred, and I felt a little shiver of delight run up my spine at the feeling of him surrounding me. A quiet hum came from my lips, and Weyoun’s lips pressed softly against my forehead. “I quite enjoy this as well. I must admit...I’ve imagined this before, but those thoughts pale in comparison to the real thing.”

I’d have to unpack that statement when I wasn’t being pulled slowly into unconsciousness by the steady sound of Weyoun’s heartbeat. Before I allowed myself to fall asleep, however, I nuzzled drowsily into the crook of the Vorta’s neck and pressed a slow, soft kiss into the spot just above his thrumming pulse.

“Thank you,” I breathed just millimeters away from his skin, but from the way his breath hitched, I knew he’d heard me.

The next morning, I was awakened by a summons from the Jem’Hadar First stating that we’d be arriving at the Changelings’ planet in a few minutes. As I blinked slowly awake and acknowledged the information, I was stunned to find that Weyoun was still in bed with me. I’d thought he’d have left not long after I fell asleep, but...he’d stayed. As he awakened as well, his eyes drifted to his arms to take in the sight of me where I lay. A soft smile played across his lips and mine, and after a moment’s pause we reluctantly got out of bed to get dressed.

The instant we reached the bridge, the Jem’Hadar reported that we were in orbit around the planet. Consulting a scan of the surface, I gave the coordinates for a beam in site.

“I shall accompany you to the surface,” Weyoun said placing a hand on my lower back as he guided me to the transporter room. As I gave the order to beam us down, it felt as though things were moving too quickly. There were so many questions running rampant through my mind, but as we re-materialized on the planet’s surface, I felt a breath escape me that I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. The insanity-inducing itch in my brain faded, leaving me with curiosity and a little apprehension.

Standing on a rock formation in the planet’s dim light, Weyoun and I quietly surveyed our surroundings. There was a small landmass that we were standing on, but beyond that, there was only a vast, still-looking ocean. Something about it seemed...odd. What looked like a wave moved in slow motion before separating from the rest of the liquid and forming the shape of a woman on the edge of the shore.

She looked very similar to Odo as she glanced between myself and Weyoun.

“You have dared to bring a human to our world, Vorta?” She asked sounding sufficiently intimidating. Weyoun gave a bow and stammered out a response.

“Founder, she is not just a human. She is half-Changeling. She is Meris’s child,” he explained, but the Changeling didn’t seem impressed.

“Meris’s child? You thought it wise to bring the one who shouldn’t exist here?” Her words froze the blood in my veins. Through the connection that had been formed between Weyoun and me, I could feel fear more intense than he’d ever shown before - fear that spoke volumes about how the Changelings had treated him. “You will pay for your lack of judgment with your life.”

“No, he won’t,” I called moving in between Weyoun and the Changeling so she couldn’t get to him. “Weyoun brought me here because of a homing instinct that you or one of your people programmed me with. He has done nothing wrong, and you will not touch him.”

The Female Changeling tilted her head curiously at my show of protectiveness.

“You would risk your life...for a Vorta?” She sounded as though the mere idea was unthinkable to her.

“I would and I will a thousand times over if you continue to threaten his safety. From what I’ve heard, no Changeling has ever harmed another, but if you want to get to him, you’ll have to do a hell of a lot more than just harm me. Weyoun is under my protection,” I said as I put some of Odo’s training to use and shaped my forearms into sharp lengths that resembled swords. The Female Changeling continued to stare at me impassively for a moment before nodding her head.

“Very well. He will not be harmed.” The ocean behind her rippled, whether from discontent at her decision or agreement, I couldn’t quite tell.

“I want your word and the word of every Changeling here that Weyoun will not be punished for this now or ever. He was following orders - my orders. Given that I’m half-Changeling, he was sworn to obey even me in all things. He was only doing what you programmed him to do. I don’t want him punished for that whether I’m around to protect him or not. Is that understood?”

“I give you my word, as do all the other Changelings. As of this moment, he is forgiven,” I chafed at her choice of words, but at least the meaning was clear. “However, we want something in return.”

“And that is?”

“We desire your word that no matter the circumstance, you will never return to this planet once you have departed,” she intoned as if she was asking for something as simple as a replicated meal. I felt Weyoun’s hand rest gently on my shoulder.

“No! I’m not worth such a promise–” He began, but there was no changing my mind. This wasn’t even a choice. If a single promise protected Weyoun and kept me from having to interact with murderers, then I was happy to make it.

“You have my word,” I promised, and I heard the Vorta behind me draw a sharp intake of breath. I let my arms return to normal. “Before I leave, tell me one thing. Are you aware of how much damage you’ve caused?”

“‘Damage’? We’ve done nothing more than impose order where there was none, half-breed, but I wouldn’t expect you to understand. After all, you are the one tarnishing what our species stands for with your human DNA,” the Changeling said in an imperious tone. “You know, the Vorta was correct. He was not worth such a promise. Now leave us. Your homing instinct is sated and you’ve polluted our shores long enough as it is. Give our regards to Odo.”

Without another word, she turned and walked to the edge of the rock she’d been standing on before reverting to her liquid state to rejoin the vast ocean that was the Great Link. Quietly, I turned to face Weyoun who was wearing a stricken expression on his face. Activating his communication device, I spoke as steadily as I could manage.

“Two to beam up. Energize when ready.”

When we re-materialized on the transporter pad of the Dominion ship, I gave orders to set a course back toward the wormhole to the Alpha Quadrant, and escorted my very shaken Vorta companion back to the quarters we’d shared the night before. The stars outside the windows began to move and blur as we went to warp, but I paid no attention. Weyoun was my main focus. As soon as the doors slid closed behind us, he dropped to his knees in front of me and clutched at my legs as tears began cascading down his cheeks.

“I-I’m so sorry, Founder,” he stuttered in a voice heavy with emotion, and he looked up at me as if he truly was pleading with a god. “This is all my fault–”

I held his hands and dropped to my knees to pull him into my arms. The Changelings were evil. They’d caused so much death and destruction. They’d oppressed whole worlds and traumatized so many people in their quest for power - for order as the Female Changeling had said to me - including Weyoun. Weyoun, who was now beside himself, not because of something he’d done, but because of what the Changeling had implied about my choice.

“No, Weyoun, it’s not. You haven’t done anything wrong,” I promised, but the Vorta shook his head.

“It is! It is, if you hadn’t needed to protect me, you wouldn’t have been asked not to return! You’d still have your family,” he protested, but kissed his forehead tenderly and looked directly into his watery eyes.

“Weyoun, listen to me. You did everything I asked of you and more. You haven’t done anything wrong, I promise you. They would have asked me to leave whether you were there or not,” I said, and his hands clutched desperately at my thighs. “The Changeling was wrong. I would make that promise over and over again in a heartbeat if it meant your safety.”

“Why?” His question was so sudden and filled with stunned confusion.

“Can’t you tell?” I asked quietly, looking into his eyes. Something unspoken passed between us as those wide, violet irises cast gently, hesitantly over the most vulnerable parts of my soul. His eyes dropped to my mouth for a brief moment, and all at once my desire to close the gap between us as I’d imagined countless times was heightened - doubled, perhaps? In the back of my mind, it occurred to me that whatever the connection was that Changeling’s homing instinct had created between us hadn’t been broken, at least not completely. This wasn’t just me, not entirely anyway. Some slight amount of surprise must have registered on my face because Weyoun’s brow furrowed slightly.

“Is something wrong?” He asked nervously, and I shook my head.

“No, but I...I think I can still...feel you,” I murmured, and the Vorta looked startled at the prospect. His cheeks went a beautiful shade of lavender, and he lowered his eyes as if in shame.

“I-I sincerely apologize. If I’d known you could still...I-I mean I wouldn’t have–” he broke off abruptly when I reached for him and cupped his cheeks softly in my palms. The fear in his eyes when I finally coaxed him into looking at me again nearly broke my heart on the spot. His voice came out as a shaky whisper that could’ve been carried away by a light breeze. “I’m sorry. I-I’m so sorry.”

“Weyoun, you have no reason to apologize. If I can still feel you, then I assume you’re still able to feel me?” I asked quietly, and he nodded his head hesitantly.

“Y-Yes, but I swear to you, I’m not actively trying to pry. It’s none of my business what you feel. I could never be worthy of the knowledge,” he answered hurriedly as if I was angry with him – as if I ever could be. With a gentle smile, I let my thumbs skim over his cheeks.

“But you are,” I replied just as quickly in an attempt to dispel the Founder’s lies and conditioning. “Trust me, Weyoun.”

“I do–”

“Then reach out and feel what I’m feeling. Please,” I murmured bringing one of his hands so gently to my lips. At the brush of skin on skin, I felt a burst of pleasure from Weyoun and a hesitant desire for more. As my eyes met his once more, I saw - and felt - surprise wash over him the moment he took my advice and reached out through that odd connection we shared. I knew what he’d find. I may have tried to hide it from myself for a long while, but there was no use denying it when the person you’d harbored a secret affection for was literally sifting through your feelings as easily as picking through a salad. Heat rose to my cheeks even as I gave my companion a sheepish smile.

“You’re not angry with me...” he stated in a tone that all at once conveyed relief, confusion, and surprise. How could he imagine I’d be upset with him? He’d done so much for me and never asked anything in return. What reason would I possibly have for being angry? His voice was hushed when he continued. “But...But that’s impossible. You can’t seriously feel the same way I feel about you...can you?”

Not trusting my voice, I nodded my head and watched in astonishment as the last of his tears trickled down his cheek. Acting entirely on impulse now, I leaned in and delicately kissed it away, pulling a whimper from his chest as his hands came up and grasped my arms.

Precious, gentle man.

“Please...” The supplication tumbled from his lips laced with desperation, but I had to be sure. I had to be sure that what he was feeling wasn’t just a sympathetic reflection of what I was feeling. He deserved that much respect.

“Are you sure that this is what you want?” I asked looking into his eyes. Weyoun wetted his lips with a dart of his tongue and spoke through a shaky breath.

“Reach out and feel what I’m feeling, my dear. Please,” he begged using my own words from earlier. I did as he asked, and the wave of emotion that washed over me was overwhelming. So many feelings overlapped and melded into one another that my hands started trembling – lining every bit of it was sincerity.

And at the heart of it all was a love so powerful it took my breath away.

How was he holding so much inside of himself? I was acutely aware of the unadulterated wonder that was no doubt plastered on my face as he spoke once more.

“You see them now, don’t you? All of the things I don’t have the words for...” I did. The argument that this was all due to the genetic coding that the Founders had placed inside him was losing strength by the minute, but there was still a part of me that wondered...

But Weyoun seemed so certain about what he was feeling. He seemed sure that this was real, and yet...I didn’t want to be a regret. I’d have to approach this slowly. It was of paramount importance that I give him every chance to back out should he change his mind–

While those thoughts had been swirling around in my mind as a chaotic cloud of doubt and analysis, Weyoun, or I, or perhaps even both of us had moved closer as if pulled by a magnet. His breath was my breath was his breath until suddenly his lips brushed mine timidly, shattering any coherent thoughts left in my mind like glass over a concrete slab. Pressing my lips more solidly against his, the both of us melted – or did we combust? One of Weyoun’s hands slid to my waist while the other wound its way up into my hair. A quiet, desperate little whine came from between his lips – or had it come from me?

Locking lips with my Vorta on the floor of our quarters in the middle of the Gamma Quadrant certainly wasn’t where I’d seen this trip heading when we’d departed the station, but I wasn’t about to start complaining. ‘My Vorta’? When had I started thinking like that? At the feeling of his hands coaxing me ever closer and his tongue tracing the seam of my lips, I ceased thinking altogether.

All too soon, we were forced to break apart for air, and taking advantage of that, I stood and helped Weyoun up. At his slightly dazed, curious expression, I caught his hands in mine and led him into the bedroom.

“I think the Jem’Hadar can manage without us for a while, don’t you?” I asked coaxing him into sitting with me on the bed. We obviously needed to talk this through at least partially. This was a big shift that needed addressing. “Weyoun...I want to know what you want.”

“...Well, I’d like to kiss you again,” he said in the most innocently eager tone I’d heard since he asked me to teach him dabo. With an amused giggle, I clarified what I meant.

“You’ll be able to, I promise, but I mean what do you want to come of this...change between us?” I asked, and he hummed in comprehension.

“Ah, I see. No Weyoun since the original has been in a romantic relationship, so I’m afraid I have no more than his memories to guide me. As for personal desires, I’m quite open to wherever this takes us,” he said sounding more clear-headed than he had since before we beamed down to the planet. “I suppose whatever is the most natural progression in a situation like this is what I’d like, but only if you want that too.”

“Why don’t we take it slow and see where we end up?” I suggested, and the Vorta nodded his head in agreement. The rest of our journey was spent alternating between idle bits of conversation, enjoying our closeness, and reacquainting ourselves with each other’s lips.

Upon our arrival back at Deep Space Nine, Weyoun seemed much more like his normal self - with the added bonus of a new cuddly streak. He even escorted me back to my quarters via the Promenade while holding my hand. Those small gestures held a new meaning for us, and they were worth the scowl on the Kai’s face from her spot on the upper level. After a brief meeting between Weyoun and a scientist called Giger, the Vorta gave me a gentle parting kiss and made me promise to be safe until his return. Having successfully extracted the same promise from him, we parted ways once more – a practice that was becoming rather tiresome. If only he could come live on the station permanently. Then I could kiss away all his troubles.

#weyoun 5 #weyoun 5 x reader #weyoun x reader #deepspacedukat fic #emotions #pain #fluff #angst but then it's kinda better and fine #spoilers for In The Cards #spoilers for The Search Pts 1&2 #made up empathic/telepathic bullshit #this is my world and THOU SHALT SUFFER WITH ME PEASANTS #spoilers for The Die Is Cast #NOW KISS

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gojorgeous · 3 months

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"creature of myth."

pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+ ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)

You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off.

You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all.

You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it.

Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married.

Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags.

You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding.

The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times.

The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying.

When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance.

Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold.

You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income.

The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me?

Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of.

“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.”

You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before.

You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.”

Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”

You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you.

“Yes, my lady?”

You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?

You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?”

There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”

Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps.

You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you?

You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness.

You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing.

You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home.

You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come.

You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly.

You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning.

You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags.

You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle.

You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and-

“Do you like them?”

You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie.

Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him.

He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained?

“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.”

Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.”

There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips.

“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.”

You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling.

“Of course… Satoru.”

He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet.

“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies.

“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.”

There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever…

“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.”

You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?

“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming?

He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.”

You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?

Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue.

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.

Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?”

His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks.

“Not tonight.”

His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch.

His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence.

“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone.

You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened.

You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed?

That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense.

When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person.

“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all.

You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”

A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking.

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?”

You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver.

You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.”

That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.”

There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.

If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains.

Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in.

The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you.

You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again.

He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse.

“It was… good.”

You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas.

You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume.

That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.”

A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind.

Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.”

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.”

You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.

It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin.

“You’re not… eating?”

That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.”

Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?”

You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.”

The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room.

By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough.

“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue.

“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.”

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.”

He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?”

You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”

His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?”

You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.”

He chuckles. “My pleasure.”

When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight?

He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you?

You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse.

“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone.

You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon.

Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare.

As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.

The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge.

The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.

You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he?

You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.

Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you.

Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right?

You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there.

It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”.

You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye.

“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.”

You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further.

“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.

A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages.

“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.”

Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph.

“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”

You skip ahead again.

“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”

Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe?

“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.”

No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second.

“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.”

You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening.

“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.”

No, no, no.

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible.

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru.

You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows.

“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense.

You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting.

Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine.

“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?”

His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.”

No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you.

“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further.

“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…”

You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”

You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?

“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you.

You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does.

“About the estate?” he asks.

You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?”

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.”

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.”

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-”

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why.

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him.

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…”

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch.

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine?

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?”

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real.

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point.

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper.

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in.

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.”

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him.

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?”

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.”

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.”

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight.

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago.

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?”

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?”

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be.

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?”

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe.

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.”

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?”

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone.

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin.

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt.

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.”

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has.

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less.

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning.

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long.

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked.

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity-

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips.

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re–

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature.

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.”

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper.

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust.

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb.

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.”

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further.

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?”

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer.

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?”

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch.

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.”

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod.

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth–

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing?

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire.

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.”

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is.

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move.

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop.

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake.

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.”

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision.

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer.

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done.

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation.

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.”

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp.

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts.

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–”

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin.

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants.

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do.

“Yes,” you whisper.

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath.

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments.

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…”

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come.

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull.

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens.

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like.

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants.

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago.

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave.

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

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