The Blood Pact

Chapter 1: The Viewing

AN: Hello! This is a vampire AU set in present day in Brooklyn. Just a heads up that vampire Bucky is kinda an asshole in this one, not always as nice to reader as he should be - so prepare for some angst! He does soften up, though. Maybe a little enemies to lovers sprinkled in there, my fave.

Peter Quill is also reader's terrible ex, so he's not his usual charming self! Apologies if he's your fave. But Steve is very sweet and offsets the meanness somewhat, thankfully.

Warnings: Smut and sexual references, violence, detailed descriptions of vampires biting/drinking blood, swearing, insecurity and low self esteem for reader, hints at an emotionally abusive past relationship, references to past cheating, alcohol use, some bad treatment of reader by Bucky, injury/near death, potentially dubcon as it could be argued the vampire/human dynamic is on shaky ground in that sense - but reader is an enthusiastic participant.

In my head this Bucky is Civil War era Bucky - beefy with longer hair, but of course you are free to picture your favourite Bucky incarnation - that's the beauty of fic! Reader is fem, generally undescribed but has hair long enough to be in her face.

I hope you enjoy! I've had a great time writing it so far.

First chapter is pretty long as I wanted to set everything up - but they won't all be as chunky!

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Large double room and en-suite bathroom available in shared house in Brooklyn. Living with two male professionals. Rent reasonable and negotiable – call to enquire, ask for Steve – 555-6786

That's all the ad said. You couldn't help but be intrigued. After all, who even finds a roommate via the newspaper nowadays? You'd only found it because you were absentmindedly flicking through an old paper someone had left on your table in the coffee shop. In the last few weeks you'd spent hours trawling through apartment listings online, viewing terrible dump after terrible dump. Damp. Cold. Tiny. That one apartment with literal mushrooms growing on the ceiling. Another where the other roommates had clearly put a single mattress in a closet and were trying to shave a few bucks off their own rent. You'd met with potential roommates who all ranked highly on the awful scale – everyone from that potential serial killer looking guy who insisted you didn't need a lock on your bedroom door, to that girl who kept jars of her toenail clippings on the coffee table.

Frankly, you were getting desperate. You weren't looking for much, just a non-closet sized, clean bedroom that you didn't need a lottery win to afford. But that was apparently a tall order.

You had been crashing on your friend Wanda's couch for too long now. As welcoming as her and her boyfriend Vis were, enough was enough. Your break up with Peter had left you homeless. After a well-deserved period of mourning and 'what the fuck?-ing', it was time to move on. Move out. Give Wanda and Vis their space back, stop being a burden and get back on the horse.

...And that's how you found yourself on the doorstep of a beautiful, nineteenth century townhouse in Brooklyn at 7.30pm on an autumnal Wednesday.

It was worth a shot, right? You genuinely had nothing to lose by now.

Maybe the room was perfect for you. Maybe they were hipsters who put the ad in the paper as a retro throwback thing. Maybe they were super old. Whatever, at this point as long as they were clean and not sociopaths you were willing to overlook all sorts of potential flaws. And rent was negotiable, so maybe you wouldn't need a bank loan just to pay the deposit.

Steve had sounded nice on the phone when you'd enquired yesterday. Not super old. Friendly and sweet. Very polite. He had given you the address and directions. It was actually refreshing to speak on the phone, as normally your apartment enquiries took place over tedious exchanges via the SpareRoom app. When you told him 7.30pm was a bit of an odd time for a viewing he just explained that he and his roommate worked long hours throughout the day, so evenings were best. Fine. It was New York City, a night time viewing was hardly going to raise an eyebrow.