Hey. Look at me. Please leave yourself a note somewhere you'll see it later that says "it is going to take years if not decades to get the United States government to the level of functionality it had in November of 2024." If we elect a democrat in 2028, we are not going to be up and running by 2032.
Please make sure you have a reminder in your phone reminding you to not look at 2028/32/36 Democratic candidates and say "why are they not promising/delivering Cool Shit?" because you are going to understand that to get Cool Shit we must have competent people running a decently funded government, and we are not going to have that.
We are not getting UBI. We are not getting single payer healthcare. We are not getting free college or free preschool. We are not redistributing wealth on a large scale. We are not getting free internet. We are not getting ranked choice voting.
If we are lucky, we are going to get an IRS that can collect taxes, qualified schoolteachers, research grants, Social Security, and a government that thinks maybe it should be a priority for people around the worlds to not have AIDS, malaria or TB.
Hey. HEYYYYY. We will see major positive political change in our lifetime. This post is not saying we won't. This post is saying that the next democratic president is not going to put the government back together in 4 years. Those are not the same thing. That doesn't mean there won't be positive political change in that time. And your life is going to be longer than 4 years!!!!!
Fuck there's positive political change happening NOW on the local level too. Virginia's up to some cool shit
Pairing: Taxi/Cab Driver!Bucky Barnes x Passenger!Female Reader
Summary: You’re Bucky’s favorite passenger. He knows your schedule by heart. The same day, time, and location. You’re kind. You talk to him like he’s more than just the man behind the wheel. You always tip well.
He can’t help but fall for you.
But he’s just a cab driver. You deserve better than that. Better than him. So, he keeps things professional… until you lean on him one fateful night when the world feels too heavy.
He doesn’t just want to drive you home anymore.
He wants to be someone you can come home to.
Word Count: Over 12.2k
Warnings: Pining, mutual pining, slow(ish) burn, a bit of idiots in love, hurt/comfort, angst with comfort, slight jealousy, flirting, emotional breakdown, crying, insecurities, sick family member, Bucky Barnes (his POV and he's a warning, okay?)
A/N: @tavners suggested Bucky as a cab driver ages ago and the Barbie Dreamhouse helped bring him to life. Huge thanks to @miraclediviner for putting it together and for being patient and letting me submit this late and @stantastic-association for letting me participate. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411, but any and all mistakes are my own. Dividers by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
The city sky was still light as Bucky pulled onto your street, a smile touching his lips briefly. Every week for the last three months he picked you up to take you to your brother’s apartment. Same time, same day without fail. He knew the route by heart. Could do it in his sleep.
Thursday had become his favorite day of the week thanks to you.
His favorite passenger.
Someone bright and soft during his long shifts and rough nights.
He came to a stop in front of your building, making sure he adjusted the heat so you wouldn’t be too cold. There was a blanket in the back just in case it wasn’t enough. He also changed the radio station to something he knew you’d enjoy but kept it low enough in case you wanted to talk.
He liked it when you talked to him.
“Do I look okay?” he asked himself, checking his hair in the mirror before he chuckled.
Bucky didn’t dress up a lot since he drove a cab for a living, but he tried to take a bit of pride in his appearance. Clean clothes and a subtle amount of cologne. Beard and hair kept neat, too, even with the bit of gray showing more in his chestnut strands these days.
He liked to think it gave him a refined look.
Something you might notice.
The steady hum of the engine grounded him as he looked at the door, his breath catching when you stepped outside. You paused on the top step, your gaze sweeping along the street as you adjusted the bag on your shoulder. Something warm bloomed in his chest when you spotted him and gave him that familiar soft wave and smile. He wanted to believe that smile was reserved just for him.
Get it together. You’re just her driver. Nothing more.
It didn’t stop him from hoping.
He straightened up when you made your way to the car and opened the door.
“Happy Friday Eve, Buck,” you said, sliding into the backseat.
The corner of his lips twitched at the familiar greeting. Not “driver” or “sir” or anything like that. Just Buck. Steve was the only other person who called him that.
It sounded right coming from you.
“You mean Friday Junior,” he teased, trying hard not to make a show of breathing in your scent.
There were plenty of passengers who practically bathed themselves in colognes and perfumes. It was enough to choke on before he aired out the cab. But not you. You always smelled so nice. So sweet.
Jesus fucking Christ. Get a grip.
“Same thing,” you teased back, slipping your shoes off and tucking your legs beneath you.
The first time you asked if it was okay for you to take your shoes off, he almost laughed. It surprised him more than anything that you cared enough to ask. Like you cared about his space and him. He didn’t mind as long as you were comfortable.
He always wanted you to feel comfortable and safe in his presence.
“We made it through another day,” you sighed.
“And your prize for making it through another day is spending time with me,” he joked.
You laughed, a soft sound like music to his ears. “Lucky me,” you said without a hint of sarcasm.
He cleared his throat, his heart skipping a beat. “Blanket back there and the heat’s on.”
“Thanks,” you said, adding above a whisper, “You’re so good to me.”
Bucky opened his mouth and closed it. “Just doing my job,” he said, the words bittersweet on his tongue.
“Well, I appreciate it.” You hummed a little as you dug through your bag. “And… I got something for you.”
He already knew what it was.
“Protein bar?”
“Protein bar,” you confirmed.
He made an offhand comment in the beginning about his favorite brand.
You surprised him by giving one the following week, and you have brought him one every week since then.
Part of him wanted to save the wrappers, but Sam shut that down by saying it was serial killer behavior.
Your fingers brushed his when he reached back to grab, a jolt running through his body and settling deep in his chest. “I think you’re too good to me,” he said.
It was a thoughtful thing for you to do.
“Just being a good passenger,” you said casually, but he caught the hint of affection there.
Something soft… and real.
Bucky glanced at you in the mirror, his gaze lingering longer than it should’ve when you covered yourself with the blanket and settled into the leather with a sigh. His chest puffed out a little, a sense of pride filling him since you used the blanket. He picked the softest and warmest one he had.
You looked completely at ease, like you belonged there.
“Heading to your brother’s place, or you gonna switch it up on me?”
“Same trip as always,” you replied.
Of course.
A visit to your older brother’s place on the other side of the city. Dinner. Helping your sister-in-law with some chores. Spending quality time with your niece and nephew.
Every Thursday.
He knew about your routine more than he probably should, but he couldn’t help but pay attention. It was nice knowing that you had family close by. Nice that you got to spend time with them.
Some nights though, you looked a little worn down by the time he brought you home.
He carefully pulled away from the curb and glanced in the mirror again, catching your eye. “How was your day?”
Bucky was polite to his passengers, but didn’t typically initiate small talk. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about the people he transported. He did. But his job was to get people where they needed to go, not force them into conversations to fill the silence. If he sensed that they wanted to talk, he’d engage. Most were glued to their phones anyway. But not you.
Never you.
You groaned, your head falling back against the seat. “Work was a pain today. Short-staffed. Didn’t really get a full break. You know how that goes.”
He hummed sympathetically. “Sorry you had to deal with that.”
“Don’t be. Not your fault,” you said with a small shrug. “On the plus side, we’re close to the weekend, and I can relax once I get home.”
“Glad you can still see the bright side,” he said.
It wasn’t always easy to do that.
“I try.” You lifted your head with a soft smile. “How are you?”
He swallowed hard. It was nice to have someone outside of his normal circle ask him sincerely how he was doing. “Not too bad. Some guy tried to correct my driving.”
You sat up straighter. “Are you kidding me? You’re the best driver in the city.”
Warmth bloomed in his chest from how fiercely you defended him. You stated it like it was a fact. He wasn’t one to brag, but he was an excellent driver.
“I want his name,” you added, narrowing your eyes. “I’ll handle him.”
He laughed. “Oh, you’ll handle him, huh?” he asked, turning his blinker on.
“Oh, yeah,” you answered, his heart racing faster.
“I appreciate that,” he said above a whisper.
You really were something.
“And if I can’t, Alpine can scratch him up for me,” you mused lightly.
A wide smile broke out on his face. “Al’d make sure he never messed with anyone ever again.”
Alpine, his beautiful white cat. He found her in an alley when she was just a kitten, trying to stay warm on a chilly day. One look in her blue eyes and he knew he couldn’t leave her there.
“My place isn’t much,” he warned her when he crouched down. “But it’s warm and I have milk.”
She curled right in his arms and tried to burrow her face in his leather jacket.
She became his partner-in-crime from that day forward.
The feline flourished in his apartment, making herself right at home and sticking by his side whenever he was around. He admittedly spoiled her with toys and such, but she deserved it. She was also protective of him, quick to hiss at anyone who got too close, and could imitate his grumpy stare well. He knew she’d adore you.
He certainly talked about you enough to her.
He talked about you with his younger sister, too.
“Becca messaged me a bit ago, too,” he said, smiling a little. “You know how she likes to check in and make sure I’m not living off just protein bars and stubbornness.”
Becca didn’t live as close as your brother did, but he visited when he could. She visited, too, between work and her new boyfriend. She seemed happy, and that made him happy.
“And here I am giving you protein bars. I hope she doesn’t mind.”
“Not at all,” he promised. “She knows one extra bar a week won’t hurt.”
You smiled softly. “She cares a lot about you, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah,” he said warmly. “She does.”
And she liked that he had someone like you who cared, even when he tried to argue that you were just being nice.
“She isn’t just being nice, big brother. She cares.”
He liked to think so.
“Hey!” you said suddenly, leaning forward in your seat. “You know what I just realized?”
“What?”
“This is the thirteenth Thursday that you’ve driven me around.”
“Is that right?” he asked softly, knowing full well exactly how many Thursdays he had seen you.
Because he had been counting.
“That is right.” You settled back into your seat with a smile. “Feels like ages… and not long at all.”
It seemed like only yesterday to him.
He remembered the exact shade of blue you wore on the first ride, something pleasant against the harsh city lights. How you shivered when you slid into the car, and the smile you gave him when he turned the heat on. You were so beautiful. And kind.
The kindest passenger he had that day.
“Thanks for getting me here safely, Bucky! Happy Friday Eve!”
“Friday Junior,” he’d called after you like an idiot.
“Same thing!”
He was a goner.
Every week his crush grew stronger.
But every week he told himself he was just your cab driver and nothing more.
“Thirteen Thursdays,” he said. “That why you look so nice today?”
Your gaze flickered to your lap, smiling. “You think I look nice?” you asked gently.
His heart hammered in his chest. “Yeah. You always do,” he said honestly, willing himself to concentrate on the road.
Don’t make it weird. Don’t make her uncomfortable.
“Thanks, Buck,” you whispered.
He should’ve left it at that, but he didn’t.
“You sure I’m taking you to your brother’s and not some date?” he blurted out.
The air thickened in the cab, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. Something uncomfortable twisted in his gut. He paid enough attention to know that there wasn’t a ring on your finger, and you hadn’t mentioned having a boyfriend.
Not once.
But what if there was someone? What if one day you dressed up for someone else? What if you gave some other man that soft smile you always gave him?
His jaw clenched and he was thankful you couldn’t see his expression.
I have no reason to be jealous. She isn’t my girl. She can see whoever she wants.
I just wish it was me.
“A date?” Your laughter made its way to his ears. “Please. I’m very single.”
For a moment, all Bucky could hear was the sound of his heart slowing to a steady rhythm, effectively blocking out the moving vehicles around him. His next breath was easier, his grip loosening. It shouldn’t have been such a relief to hear that, but it was.
Single. Good. That’s good. Stay single. Stay away from bad guys. Stay… here. With me.
…I’m in deep.
“Haven’t dated in months,” you added.
That made him pause.
“Months?” he repeated. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Well, it’s true,” you said, quieter than before and gazing out the window. “Guess I haven’t caught anyone’s eye.”
Your words wiped out his relief. You didn’t have to say out loud that you were lonely. He sensed it. Recognized it.
It just didn’t make sense to him that you were alone. You were a catch. How were guys not lining up down the block to ask you out?
Your words also weren’t true. Because he was there and he saw you. Wanted you.
“Or… maybe you have,” he said carefully. “And they just haven’t said anything yet.”
A beat passed. “Maybe,” you said.
He tapped the wheel when he stopped at a red light.
Say it. Tell her. Tell her that she caught my eye. Tell her that she’s…
He sighed to himself, the cab feeling smaller than usual. He wanted to admit how he felt, but he couldn’t like this. It wasn’t right when he was in the driver’s seat and you were back there.
“And what about you?” you asked, turning away from the window. “You seeing anyone?”
He huffed out a laugh. “No.”
Women weren’t exactly fighting to date a cab driver.
“My ‘date’ nights are me, a book or a movie, and Al,” he told you. “That or kicking the guys out of my place once the pizza and beer are gone.”
You smiled. “Those sound like good nights to me.”
“They’re not bad,” he said casually.
As if the idea of a date night with you wasn’t painting a picture in his mind.
“You know,” you said, snuggling into the blanket more. “If you ever need anyone to critique your book or movie choices, I’m available.”
He didn’t think it was possible for his heart to trip over itself, but it did. “Yeah?” he asked, keeping his voice even.
“Yeah,” you said casually, but your eyes flicked to the mirror. “I mean, I’m sure you have great taste, but it doesn’t hurt to get my own confirmation.”
Bucky swallowed hard. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
You smiled. “You better.”
The cab fell into a comfortable silence after that, but something shifted. You had given him an opening that would’ve been easy to take. But maybe you were just being nice. Maybe it didn’t mean anything at all.
Or it might mean everything.
He eased the car to a stop at your brother’s building minutes later. “Here we are.”
You slipped your shoes on and folded the blanket as best as you could. “Thanks,” you said, holding out the cash for him.
He reached back automatically to grab it, feeling that spark again when your fingers touched. He didn’t need to count it to know it was all there, along with a nice tip. You were generous.
Always.
“Anytime.”
You lingered when you opened the door. “Hey, Buck?”
“Yeah?”
“You look nice today, too,” you said.
It was a simple compliment, but it hit him square in the chest.
“Yeah?” he managed to ask.
“Yeah,” you said, smiling softly. “You always do.”
It was an echo of his own words to you.
Before he could respond, you slipped out and tapped the roof twice. “See you later. Drive safe.”
“See ya,” he whispered.
He didn’t leave right away. He watched as you made your way inside safely, his hand still clutching the cash. Glancing at the protein bar on the seat beside him, he exhaled.
You said he looked nice. Offered to watch a movie with him. Kind of.
But he was just your driver.
Nothing more.
“I’m in trouble,” he muttered.
By the time Bucky pulled back up to your brother’s building later that night, things felt quieter. But his mind didn’t. It was too busy racing with thoughts of you and wondering how long he could keep his line drawn in the sand.
You waved to him when you stepped outside, your steps a little slower. Your smile wasn’t as bright as earlier, but it was still soft and easy. It made sense. Family time after a long work day was tiring, even if it was nice.
“Hey,” he said once you got in.
“Hey,” you echoed, settling in.
“Good night?” he asked, easing back into the road.
“It was,” you replied, laughing a little. “But those kids wear me out.”
He smiled to himself. No way they didn’t adore spending time with you. “Sounds about right.”
“Did you have a good night?”
It was the best night because he got to see you again.
“Not too bad,” he answered.
You checked something on your phone and put it away. “Random, but I have a few extra dollars in my account, so I may do takeout for dinner tomorrow as an end of the week treat for myself.”
You could have takeout with me.
“Get those noodles from the place you like on 5th,” he suggested instead. “The number seven, right?”
Why did I say that?
“That’s right.” You giggled. “Am I that predictable?”
He almost said, “I notice everything about you.”
“You’re not predictable,” he replied instead, easing his foot off the gas. “I just… pay attention.”
Because you’re… you.
It was quiet for the rest of the ride.
He glanced back a few times and saw that your eyes were heavy. He hoped you were able to relax more when you got back to your place. You deserved the rest.
A pang of disappointment hit him when he got to your place, the drive seeming quicker than normal. “Here we are.”
You stifled a yawn. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
“Oh. I almost forgot.” You sat up, seemingly more awake now. “I have something for you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You already gave me a protein bar.”
“Well, this isn’t from me,” you said, handing him a folded piece of construction paper along with the cash. “It’s from my niece and nephew.”
He opened it carefully, his heart melting on the spot.
A drawing of a car stretched across the sheet. It was lopsided with uneven wheels and windows that were too big. There were two stick figures inside. One in the back with a large smile that was clearly you. And one in the front with brown hair, blue eyes, and a small smile.
It was him.
There was a message in crooked letters above the car, surrounded by glitter glue.
BUCKY DRIVING AUNTIE! YAY!
His throat tightened unexpectedly. “That’s us?” he asked with a hint of disbelief.
You mentioned him to your family?
“That’s us,” you said affectionately, making him wonder if that was for him or your niece and nephew. “They wanted to thank you for always getting me there and back every week.”
He swallowed, his throat dry. “You… talk about me?”
“Of course, I do,” you said like it was obvious. “You’re part of my week.”
He folded it back up like it was something fragile, your words slowly sinking in.
You talked about him. Your family knew he existed. Your niece and nephew had never met him, but still made him a card like he mattered.
His heart felt full.
And he didn’t know what to do with that feeling.
“Tell ‘em I said thanks,” he said quietly. “Really.”
“I will,” you promised, hesitating when you reached for the door handle.
You waited long enough for him to look at you over his shoulder. Long enough that his heart thudded. Hope flickered deep within.
She feels something, right? It can’t just be me.
Your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag, but your eyes were soft. “I…” Your gaze flickered down before looking back at him, sighing a little. “I’ll see you next week, Buck.”
He exhaled, trying not to let disappointment show. Something passed between you. He felt it. It was real.
Or… maybe he just imagined it.
“Yeah,” he said, offering you a small smile. “Next week.”
“Good night.”
“Good night,” he repeated. “And thanks again for the card and tip.”
You smiled softly before you got out.
He leaned against his seat and once again stayed to make sure you got inside safely. You didn’t rush inside when you got to the door. You paused instead and glanced over your shoulder at the door, like you were waiting for him. It was an opening. Maybe.
But he didn’t take it.
He kept that line drawn.
You waved before you went inside, and he closed his eyes, the quiet surrounding him once again.
His fingers brushed the construction paper in his lap.
Steve and Sam would flip when he told them about it. Hell, they already did whenever he talked about you. He could practically hear them now once he gave them the recap of tonight’s events.
Sam shaking his head and saying, “She gives you protein bars, offers to watch movies with you, her family knows about you, her niece and nephew made you a card, and you didn’t ask for her number?”
Steve, a little quieter but no less insistent, with, “Buck… you’re allowed to want something.”
Bucky’s jaw clenched. They acted like it was simple, like he could just ask and it wouldn’t change a thing. It would change everything.
He didn’t want to risk losing you or holding you back when he didn’t have you to begin with.
For now, he’d continue driving you where you needed to go and leave it at that.
Coward. Life’s too short.
He set the card aside and took one last look at your building.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I’m in big trouble.”
Bucky arrived a couple of minutes early the following Thursday.
He told himself it was habit. Being mindful of traffic. Not because he was eagerly waiting for you.
Not at all.
And you also weren’t the reason he spent ten extra minutes picking out a shirt.
Just because she said I look nice…
He made a mistake of checking the group chat he had with Steve and Sam while he waited.
Sam: “Be a man and get her number.”
He gritted his teeth, quickly typing. He almost regretted confiding in them about you. It would’ve been easier to keep his mouth shut.
“Fuck off, Samuel. I am a man.”
The dots appeared with both of his friends writing something back.
Sam: “OOH. Samuel. My full name. Hit a sore spot, huh?”
Maybe he did.
Stevie: “Just go at your pace, jerk. We got your back.”
Some of the tension left his shoulders.
“Thanks, punk.”
He put his phone away and smiled just a little. They were good guys. Had been with him through thick and thin. Brothers.
Sam definitely acted like an annoying brother in the most supportive way.
And as much as he adored Becca, he didn’t want to bother his little sister with his lack-of-relationship woes. She had enough on her plate. He’d be just fine.
Eventually.
His attention snapped in your direction when you left your building and everything else faded away.
There you were again.
The same familiar sweep of your eyes along the street before you found him. The soft smile. The small wave. How you always looked incredible no matter if you dressed up or down.
Like tonight, you had on the same soft sweater you wore last month. It reminded him of comfort. It also made you look gentle in a way that made him want to take care of you.
The instinct hit him harder than before.
Yeah. I’m royally fucked.
He straightened up as you walked closer, his brows furrowing. You were still smiling at him, but your steps didn’t look as light as normal. There was tension in your shoulders.
“Happy Friday Eve, Buck,” you said, unfolding the blanket with extra care.
There was a touch of weariness in your tone under the warmth.
It would’ve been easy to miss if he wasn’t paying attention.
“You mean Friday Junior,” he said automatically.
“Same thing,” you murmured.
“Your brother’s place?” he asked gently.
“Same trip as always,” you replied just as gently.
He looked at you in the mirror after pulling away from the curb. You were already gazing out the window, relaxed but not completely. His chest tightened when he spotted the slightest frown on your face.
It didn’t belong there.
Is she okay? Was work extra rough?
He waited a couple of blocks before he asked, “Long day?”
Bucky didn’t want to push if you didn’t want to talk, but he did want to make sure you were okay. If something upset you, he wanted to fix it. If someone upset you, he wanted to handle it.
Let me help however I can.
“Yeah,” you replied after a second. “Long week, actually.”
“Those are the worst.” He tapped a finger on the wheel. “Becca always tells me to take a breath and not let the week eat me alive.”
“That’s good advice.” Something soft and a little sad flickered in your eyes. He didn’t know if his words triggered a memory, but it felt important. “Especially coming from a sibling.”
“It is,” he replied. “Siblings just get it some days.”
You hummed in agreement, but didn’t say anything else.
He bit his tongue. It was times like this when he wished he wasn’t driving. He wanted to turn around and give you his attention. You deserved it.
“Would it make you feel any better if I said you look nice today?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt.
That brought a smile to your face. “It does make me feel better,” you said, your tone almost back to normal. “Thank you.”
He smiled back gently, the sound of the engine and low music filling the space for a moment. It didn’t fix your long week, but he was glad the compliment helped. He’d consider that a win.
“You look nice, too.” You craned your head to look at him. “I really like that color on you.”
His pulse jumped. The usual ease was coming back, the cab lighter. And you noticed his shirt.
I chose well.
“Oh, this old thing?” he teased, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Really brings out my eyes.”
You giggled. “It sure does.”
He stole another glance at you when you looked out the window again. You were tired, but you were okay. Still warm. Still you.
He felt like he could breathe again.
“Hey,” he said after another block, reaching into the console. “I, uh… made you a list.”
“A list?” Your eyebrows went up. “What kind of list?”
“Movies. Some I like. Some I think you’d like,” he clarified, passing it back to you before he could change his mind. “You did offer to critique them.”
“And you’re taking me up on it?” You gasped, putting a hand to your chest. “I’m both shocked and flattered.”
“You should be,” he deadpanned before grinning.
You smiled, a little tired but genuine. “The first title has a star next to it.”
“Because it’s my favorite and a good one to start with.”
“Did you get Steve and Sam’s seal of approval?”
He scoffed. “They’d like it. Enough oldies for Steve, and Sam has somewhat decent taste in recent stuff… but he’ll never know I said that.” He coughed into his hand and added, “They’ve heard about you.”
You smiled. “Is that right?”
“Yeah, I talk about more than I probably should.” He shrugged, but his left foot lightly tapped. “You’re a good passenger.”
And I’m just your driver.
Your smile faltered, just for a second, before you smoothed it over with a laugh. “And you’re a good driver.” You scanned the small piece of paper once more. “You put a lot of thought into this, didn’t you?”
Warmth rushed to his cheeks. “You should see the book list I’m making for you,” he muttered.
He valued your opinion, and the lists were a way for you to think of him between rides. A way to keep you two connected. Maybe it was selfish that he wanted you to have him on your mind.
But maybe it wasn’t.
“You’re making me a book list, too? Oh, I can’t wait for that.” You folded it neatly and put it in your bag. “I’ll watch the first movie tomorrow night.”
Another Friday night with no date? I wish I could man up and change that.
“I expect a full report next week,” he teased.
“You got it, Sarge,” you teased back.
His breath caught. “Sarge?” he repeated. “You remember my military ranking?”
Sergeant Barnes.
It was mentioned only once, just like the protein bars. A passing comment and nothing more. But you listened.
You remembered.
“Of course, I do.”
The same thing you said about mentioning him to your family.
He blinked rapidly, trying to steady the emotions stirring inside him as he drove. You continued to surprise him with your soft words and smiles, making him feel special in your eyes. You undid him in ways nothing or no one else could.
“Here we are,” he said minutes later.
“Thanks, Buck.” You gathered your things before you stopped, your inhale sharp. “Oh… you kept it.”
He followed your gaze to the dashboard. Your niece and nephew’s card was proudly on display. It was a beautiful reminder of you.
“Of course, I did,” he said, trying to play it cool. “It’s a nice drawing.”
“That’s really sweet, Buck.”
He shrugged a little, but heat crept up his neck. “It deserved a front and center spot.”
Your gaze softened more. “They’ll think you’re the coolest guy ever when I tell them.”
They made him feel cool by giving him the card.
“Guess I’ll have to try to live up to that.”
“You already are,” you said without missing a beat, passing him a protein bar with the cash.
His heart pounded in his chest. Another thoughtful gesture. More words that made him feel good.
Say something. Do something.
But he didn’t.
There was a small pause before you sighed and got out, the door gently closing behind you. Tap. Tap. The familiar rhythm against the roof should’ve felt normal and comforting.
But why did it feel like you were disappointed?
“See you later,” you said. “Drive safe.”
“See ya,” he exhaled.
He watched until you went inside, half tempted to hit the dashboard since he chickened out. He held himself back. There was no sense in taking his frustration out on the car. He could hit a punching bag later.
Maybe he could knock some sense into himself, too, and man up.
“Should’ve said something,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
Some of the frustration at himself faded when he looked at the card. He imagined your niece and nephew were the kind of kids who loved when the garbage men came by every week or drivers dropped off packages. They’d probably have a blast riding around in his cab, cheering him on for driving you around. If Becca ever had kids, they’d likely be the same way.
He wondered, briefly, if you’d ever meet her, and the thought didn’t scare him the way it should.
But what would your brother think of me? Would he think I’m good enough?
At the end of the day, didn’t it matter only what you thought and saw in him?
His phone buzzed.
Sam: “Well??? We’re waiting.”
Bucky stared at the message before typing back. “Dropped her off. Didn’t ask.”
Three dots appeared immediately. He didn’t want to look. Didn’t need the additional salt on the open wound of his self-doubt.
But he looked since he was a glutton for punishment.
Sam: “Man, if we can even call you that, you're killing me! I’m gonna lose the bet.”
Bet? What fucking bet?
Stevie: “There’s no bet. You’ll do it when it’s right.”
Sam: “Don’t make me get Becca and Sarah involved. I’ll do it.”
He tucked his phone away and shook his head. Tough and gentle love. He needed both.
And he needed just a little more time to convince himself to erase the line he had drawn.
The next passenger he picked up, a man complaining about the state of the economy, didn’t shift his focus fully away from you. The restaurant he dropped him at seemed like a nice one to take you to, something quiet and romantic. A couple of women he drove after that mentioned an acoustic concert in the park, which made him picture you leaning your head on his shoulder while listening to music together. Every passenger was like that, managing to tie something back to you.
He still got everyone where they needed to go safely since that was the job.
He just couldn’t stop thinking about you.
By the time he arrived to pick you up again, the city lights had taken over the streets. He spotted you immediately, your arms wrapped around yourself to keep warm. You looked about the same as when you went in. A little more tired, but okay.
And you still gave him a smile when you got in.
Smiling like she’s happy to see me.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” he replied, double checking the heat. “Kids wear you out again?”
“You know it. They had so much energy tonight, and I almost stepped on a lego when I was chasing them around.”
“Occupational hazard of being a great aunt.”
“You know it.” You laughed a little. “They were also thrilled that you have their card up.”
That warmed his heart. “So, they think I’m cool?”
“The coolest.”
He smiled at the sincerity. He believed that they believed that. It was a feeling he needed to lean into more.
“Did you have a good night?”
“Yep. Just driving. Getting everyone where they need to go,” he answered.
And thinking of you. Always thinking about you.
He turned the radio up a notch after that instead of trying to fill the silence, letting you relax. For a moment, he pictured swaying with you. Minus the quick brush of your fingers, he hadn’t touched you in any way.
To hold you would be a gift.
“Hey, Buck?” you asked once he pulled up to your place.
“Yeah?”
You bit your lip. “I wanted to give you something.”
“Yeah?” he asked, his chest tightening in anticipation as you reached into your bag.
You hesitated before you nodded. “Yeah.”
Your hand shook a little when you passed him a small slip of paper with the cash. He unfolded it, blinking hard to make sure he was reading it correctly. He turned it over, too.
It was your handwriting. Your name. Your number.
You gave him your phone number.
His heart forgot how to beat before it thundered. He imagined this scenario for weeks, but he hadn’t prepared himself for the reality of it. He didn’t think the universe would be that kind to him.
“I just figured, this way you don’t have to wait until next week for my report on the movie. You could just text me and see what I think,” you explained, trying to play it off casually. “Or if you ever want to send me pictures of Alpine. Or you’re just… bored.”
His pulse roared in his ears. You wanted to hear from him. You gave him another opening while he kept mentally blocking the door with his foot.
You trusted him enough to want a connection outside of the cab and the rules he internally created and enforced.
“But you don’t have to,” you added quickly, reaching for the door handle. “I can wait until next week to talk to you and-”
“Wait,” he begged, trying not to panic. The last thing he wanted was for you to think he didn’t want to reach out. “I’ll, um… give you mine, too.”
You met his gaze in the mirror. He wanted to memorize how you looked at this moment. Hopeful. Beautiful.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he whispered.
He found a pen and a receipt, making sure his writing was legible as he jotted it down. Your smile when he handed it over soothed his nerves. The smooth thing to do would’ve been to put his phone number on the movie list when he gave it to you earlier. But this was better.
This felt more right.
“Thanks.” You tucked it away like it was something sacred. “I’ll text you.”
He nodded, his throat tight. “I’d like that.”
You stepped out into the cool air, glancing back at him. The tension was almost completely gone from your shoulders. The glow from the street lamps made your eyes sparkle.
He couldn’t look away from you if he tried.
“Good night, Buck.”
“Good night.”
Once you were inside, he glanced at your number again, reading it until the numbers ran together. He reached for the phone to message the guys and Becca before deciding against it. Sam would lose his mind. Steve would tell him not to overthink it. Becca would be somewhere in the middle. He didn’t need that tonight.
He wanted to hang onto this just a little longer and let it sink in that it was real.
Besides, it was just an exchange of phone numbers. You didn’t ask him out. He didn’t ask you out. He was still being professional.
But he did check his phone immediately when a new message popped up.
“Happy fourteenth Thursday. Thanks again for the ride.”
Still counting like me.
“Anytime. Get some rest. And let me know when you watch the first movie.”
A neutral message. Polite. Professional.
“I’m still in trouble.”
And he grinned like an idiot because of it.
You messaged him on Friday night.
He saved you under his contacts as MFP, my favorite passenger.
MFP: “Halfway through the movie.”
His fingers hovered over the screen. If he typed back too quickly, he’d look desperate. If he waited too long, he’d look aloof.
A full minute was enough time.
“And?”
He winced at himself. That was too short. Too blunt.
MFP: “They switched part of what happened in the book. Trying to reserve my judgement until the end.”
A sense of awe filled him. You read the book. Of course, you did. That made him want you even more.
But he couldn’t say that.
“I didn’t like the switch at first either, but keep watching. Trust me.”
MFP: “I trust you.”
That made his breath catch.
He scratched behind Alpine’s ear, smiling when she purred. “She’s watching it and texting me. That’s good, right?”
She meowed happily.
He put the movie on, too, in the hopes that he wouldn’t keep checking his phone.
You messaged him again an hour later.
MFP: “My score: 8/10. Adventurous, heartwarming, and visually stunning. I see why it’s your favorite.”
He smiled, typing out, “Dinner and tell me more?”
He deleted it and started over.
“8/10? I’ll take it. What didn’t you like besides the book switch?”
MFP: “A one point deduction was for the book switch. Another deduction for the bad wig. I mean, a huge budget like that and they couldn’t give the lead some good hair? Tragic.”
Bucky chuckled. “You make a good point. It was pretty bad.”
MFP: “But movie wise? So far, so good for your taste.”
That was a win in his book.
You didn’t message him again until Saturday night.
MFP: “Is brinner an acceptable choice on a Saturday night?”
He smiled immediately.
“Brinner is an acceptable choice every night.”
MFP: “I knew you’d understand. I can eat while I watch the second movie on the list.”
“I bet you’ll give it a 7/10.”
MFP: “We’ll see if you’re right. Hope you're having a good weekend.”
He reread that statement twice. It felt measured. Careful.
“You, too.”
He read the message again after sending it.
Maybe it was another message that was too short.
And it was too late to erase it.
You sent him a photo of a white cat on Sunday.
MFP: “Is this Alpine’s doppelganger?”
He chuckled. The image wasn’t too far off but Alpine was prettier. He was a bit biased when it came to his feline.
“There’s no cat like Al.”
MFP: “I believe it. And you were right, but the way. 7/10. I deducted two points for the one terrible accent.”
He tilted his head and laughed again. He had almost forgotten about the bad accent. It was amazing how one actor or actress could throw off an entire scene.
“Much deserved deduction. Al would approve.”
MFP: “I’m honored.”
He didn’t hear from you for the rest of the day.
It was his turn to message you first.
“Hope you have water and caffeine to get you through Monday.”
He stared at it after sending. Maybe that too personal. Maybe it wasn’t enough.
MFP: “Do I have to have water?”
He laughed, picturing you scrunching up your face.
“Need you to stay hydrated.”
Because he cared.
MFP: “But what if I try to live on stubbornness like you?”
You’re too good to live on stubbornness.
“Still need water.”
MFP: “Yes, Sarge.”
Oh, that did something to him.
MFP: “But only if you drink some water, too.”
“I will.”
He would for you.
He didn’t hear from you on Tuesday.
That was fine. You were busy. You had a life outside of him. And he didn’t want to bother you.
But he checked his phone more than he should have.
You messaged him first thing on Wednesday.
MFP: “Is it Friday Eve yet?”
Relief hit him faster than he expected.
“Almost. You surviving?”
There was a delay this time. Long enough for him to notice.
MFP: “Barely, but I’m trying.”
He frowned a little.
“Hang in there.”
He hesitated before adding another message.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
There was another pause.
MFP: “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”
He stared at it longer than he meant to.
Something about it felt different. Quieter. He could’ve been imagining it.
He sent one more message before he could stop himself.
“Can’t wait.”
He meant it.
Even if something told him tomorrow would feel different.
Bucky waited at the curb as patiently as he could, checking his hair three times. Just like every week before, he looked forward to seeing you. But this felt different because the texts had been good overall. Almost effortless.
Almost.
Tonight could be a turning point.
Bucky checked his phone again, even though he told himself he wouldn’t.
Sam: “You better not fumble this now that you got her number.”
Stevie: “Ignore him. Just be yourself.”
He huffed under his breath, locking the screen.
Like it’s that easy.
He turned his attention back to your building, his heart sinking the moment you stepped outside.
The usual sweep of your gaze didn’t happen since you were looking at your feet. You hardly seem to notice or care that your bag slipped from your shoulder. When you finally lifted your gaze, you looked worn out in a way he had never seen before.
It was like someone took the light inside you and dialed it down.
Everyone had bad days. That was a normal part of life. But this was you.
It didn’t sit right with him at all.
“Happy Friday Eve,” you stated with a dim smile, hugging the blanket against your chest like a pillow. Your fingers trembled just enough that he spotted it.
“Friday Junior,” he said because that’s what he was supposed to say.
Same thing.
You didn’t say it.
You looked out the window, your jaw tight enough that he could see the tension in your neck. There was no teasing either as he drove. No references to any of the messages between you, like brinner or the bad wig or accent from the movies. No jokes about staying hydrated or calling him Sarge.
There were no comments on anything.
Just the kind of silence that for the first time felt off between you two.
Something was wrong.
I fucked this up, didn’t I?
He thought back to every message he sent like he could figure out the exact moment things flipped.
He responded in a timely manner. He initiated at times so it wouldn’t all fall on you. They weren’t overly flirty but they weren’t cold either.
Maybe you expected more and he let you down.
Or maybe he leaned in too far with the “can’t wait” message and now you were pulling back.
“Hey, um…” He cleared his throat, his grip shifting on the wheel. “If I said something wrong, or if I upset you with one of my texts…”
“What?” Your head snapped toward him, your brows pinching. “Buck, no.”
He blinked, surprised at how quickly you shut that down when his mind was screaming at him. “You sure?” He bit the inside of his cheek. “You just seem off, and I didn’t want it to be because of me.”
He was sure he could handle just about anything but that.
He didn’t want to lose the one bright part of his week because he misread a moment or sent the wrong text.
“Buck,” you said, even gentler this time. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
His shoulders dropped. “Really?” he pressed, needing to be absolutely certain.
“Really. I like talking with you… a lot,” you promised, a shallow breath leaving your lungs. “I swear, it isn’t you.”
The weight in his chest eased enough for him to breathe but not enough to feel okay since your voice cracked. You liked talking to him, which was good. Better than good. But if he wasn’t the issue, it was something else. Something you weren’t telling him.
It worried him.
“Can I ask you something?” you asked softly.
“Yeah. Anything,” he said honestly.
“I don’t think I’ve ever asked you this.” You paused to consider your words. “Why do you drive?”
He inhaled. It wasn’t unusual for you to ask about him. But most people didn’t care enough to ask why he did this job.
You weren’t most people there, were you?
Your gaze was back on him instead of looking out the window, waiting patiently for his answer because you wanted to know.
Like Becca said… you care.
“I guess the easy answer is having a flexible schedule, getting decent money on the right nights, and it beats being in an office with some boss hounding me.”
You gave him a knowing, very small smile. “And what’s the real answer?”
He took a breath. “You remember I served in the army.” You nodded in acknowledgement. “When I got out… there was no clear objective. No structure.” His voice stayed even, but quieter. “It was just… a lot of noise.”
He stared at the taillights in front of him, lost for a moment.
His smile had been wrong for days when he got out. Everything seemed like too much or not enough. And the world didn’t slow down just because people couldn’t keep up.
“I had my friends. My sister. I wasn’t alone,” he said like it mattered because it did. Not everyone had that support. “But it still felt like I was supposed to be doing something… and I didn’t know what that was.”
You didn’t interrupt or rush him, so he continued.
“But this?” He gestured around the cab. “It gave me something again.”
A sense of purpose. A mission.
“I have an objective… orders,” he explained, tapping the dashboard. “I pick a passenger up and I get them from point A to point B. That’s the job.”
You nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”
“And how I get you there? That’s on me.” He tapped his chest. “If the weather’s bad, I take it into account. If there’s awful traffic, I adjust. If my usual route is blocked, I find another way.”
“So, it gives you a sense of control,” you mused. “You know what you have to do, but you choose how you execute it.”
He nodded. You seemed to understand. Not everyone did.
“It’s simple in a good way. Discipline and structure with adaptability.” He ran a hand along the wheel, smiling to himself. “I know what I’m supposed to do. I know I can do it well.”
He glanced at you in the mirror, vulnerability shining in his eyes.
“And at the end of the ride… I get someone where they need to go. Safely.”
He paused, the sounds of honking horns and engines surrounding him. It was strangely comforting. But the most comforting thing was your presence and tender expression.
“And sometimes… that’s enough,” he finished.
“It is. It matters,” you insisted, gently but firmly. “More than you think.”
You make me feel like I matter.
“I do my best.” The words came out nonchalantly but he meant it. “I can’t control what others do when they’re on the road, just like they can’t control me. But if something does happen, I fix it.”
Your expression shifted. “And if there’s a time that you can’t fix it? You can’t control what’s happening?”
Bucky stilled before he realized it. That didn’t sound like you were talking about driving. He had a good read on people, but he couldn’t read between the lines of this. Couldn’t figure out why you were asking that.
What needs fixing?
“I just keep driving,” he finally answered. “Like Steve always says… We have to move forward.”
You shifted in your seat. “I guess it’s all we can do,” you said more to yourself than him. “And for what it’s worth, you really are doing a great job,” you added.
He inhaled sharply. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. You help people every time you drive. You don’t just drive well. You do it safely, like you said,” you pointed out, giving him a small smile. “I always feel safe when I’m with you.”
Those words landed in the middle of his doubt in himself, threatening to tear it apart. There was trust within your compliment. It was pure in an impure world.
“Good.” He had to swallow to keep his voice steady. “I’m glad you feel that way.”
You smiled again, but it didn’t reach your eyes.
His chest ached. Every smile seemed to take more effort than it should, like you were chipping away little pieces of yourself. He hated that.
He hated that he couldn’t shoulder the weight still pushing you down, even just a little.
“Here we are,” he said once he stopped, quieter than before.
“Thanks, Buck,” you said, handing over a protein bar with the cash. “And I’m sorry if I made you think that you upset me.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said quickly, turning around as best as he could so he could see you. “You don’t have to do that with me.”
There was no reason for you to apologize when he was the one overthinking.
“But are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, searching your face for the answer your lips may not say.
Lean on me if you aren’t.
Something passed in your eyes and then it was gone. “I will be,” you assured him.
His stomach dropped when you took the blanket with you, like you forgot you were holding it. You clutched it like a lifeline as you walked away from the cab. He watched you go, reaching for the door handle. You disappeared into the building before he could follow, which he had never done before.
You weren’t okay.
For the first time since he met you, he had no idea how to fix it.
But something told him he was about to find out.
By the time he came back, he was tense. He told himself you just needed time with your family tonight. That whatever was on your mind eased with some laughter and familiar warmth.
It had to have helped.
…Right?
His heart didn’t sink when he saw you.
It cracked.
You had the blanket around your shoulders, trying to hold yourself together as you put one foot in front of the other. The look of sadness on your face wasn’t fleeting or light. It was the kind that settled in your bones.
What the hell happened?
You forced a smile when you met his eye and it twisted something inside him painfully.
Don’t do that. Please, don’t do that.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” you replied, your voice thin.
He didn’t drive off right away, giving you a moment to get your bearings.
But you didn’t.
You didn’t slip your shoes off or tuck yourself in. The blanket stayed around your shoulders like an afterthought. Your breaths were too measured. Too careful.
He held the wheel so tight that his fingers ached.
You were a heartbeat away from unraveling.
“Ready?”
“Yeah.”
The city bustled around like normal, but nothing inside the cab felt the same.
The air felt even heavier than earlier. The silence was too loud.. Louder than any word you ever spoke.
And you simply stared ahead like you were bracing yourself for impact.
His teeth snapped together, trying hard to keep himself in check. His job was to get you home safely. If you wanted to confide in him, he’d listen. But you didn’t have to lean on him.
He was just…
Your breath hitched on the next turn.
He made it three more blocks before he couldn’t take it anymore.
Fuck this. I’m not just your driver.
He switched lanes and turned down a road he had never taken on your route before. It was familiar to him, of course. Away from some of the noise. It had a soothing view, too.
Exhaling through his nose, he stopped the car and turned to look at you.
He recognized pain when he saw it. Had lived through it. He couldn’t recall ever seeing you look so fragile.
It’s okay to break with me.
“Hey,” he said carefully because you needed something gentle. “I know you said you’ll be alright… but you’re not.”
“I will be,” you said quickly, your lower lip trembling. “I have to be.”
“Hey…” he whispered again.
You don’t need to be strong tonight.
You shook your head automatically, your next breath shaky. “I don’t want to dump this on you.”
“You’re not dumping anything on me,” he promised, needing you to believe him. “You’re hurting.”
Your eyes filled and you tried to blink the moisture away.
He didn’t think when he got out of the cab, his body moving on instinct at the sight of your tears. He got in the back with you, leaving you enough space so you wouldn’t feel cornered. His hands rested on his knees, making sure not to touch you since he didn’t know if that would help or make things worse.
But he wanted to be there for you.
“Please, let me help,” he begged, his voice thick. “Even just a little.”
That did it.
A sob burst from your chest, your hand coming up to cover your mouth and failing to keep it in.
His heart stopped, his fingers curling to hold himself back from hauling you into his arms.
You hastily wiped your tears away that fell, like it would hide them. Your shoulders shook the more you tried to hold them in. Another broken sound escaped, the threads inside you slowly pulling apart.
“He’s sick,” you whimpered. “My brother…”
Your words were like a punch to the gut.
Oh, no…
“He has been for a while. They thought he was getting better, but the last couple of weeks have been bad,” you admitted, your face crumbling. “He barely made it through dinner tonight before he had to lay down.”
His jaw tightened in that helpless way when grief felt too close and overpowering.
“And the kids… They don’t get why their dad is so tired or why their mom looks so sad when she thinks no one’s looking.” You hiccuped, the sound raw. “And I’m trying to help when I can. I’m trying to be strong for everyone, but I’m scared and… I can’t fix this.”
His throat went tight.
“And if there’s a time that you can’t fix it? You can’t control what’s happening?”
It all made sense now.
The nights where you looked a little worn down. Your smiles that didn’t reach your eyes. Your light dimming. The talk earlier tonight.
While he had been overanalyzing his interactions with you, you were carrying this.
Alone.
And he couldn’t fix it for you.
“I help cook, clean, make the kids smile, but I don’t know what to do anymore,” you whimpered, looking at him with teary eyes. “It hurt for me to smile tonight.”
Trying to smile through pain was one of the hardest things a person could do.
“I’ve been holding this in and I… can’t anymore.”
Bucky couldn’t keep staying behind the line he drew.
Not anymore.
His arms went around you without another thought, strong and steady, pulling you in like it was the most natural thing in the world. You clung to him, your fingers curling in his shirt as you sobbed painfully into his neck. He closed his eyes, willing whatever being was watching over them to feed some of your pain into him.
Don’t do this to her. Give it to me. I can take it.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, cradling the back of your head as your cries continued. “I’ve got you.”
He didn’t say it was okay because it wasn’t. But he was there. Solid and real. Nothing else mattered except you.
“He’s my big brother. He’s a good guy. He’s supposed to be okay,” you choked out between sobs. “But he isn’t, and I can’t make it any better.”
He pressed his cheek to your temple. He knew how afraid Becca had been when he served and how relieved she was when he came back. If he were to get sick now… If anything happened to him…
“You just need to love him,” he whispered against your ear. “And you do. You have such a big heart.”
You cried harder, making him hold you closer.
“Just let it out,” he urged, rubbing your shaking back.
Minutes passed before your cries eventually slowed to small sniffles. Your body slumped against his, the tears wearing you out. And he held you through it all, letting you feel his warmth and comfort.
You lifted your head slowly, your cheeks wet. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“Don’t you dare apologize for that,” he said, wiping a stray tear away with his thumb. “Sometimes saying it out loud makes it more real and it opens up the floodgates before you’re ready.”
Like me being a coward about my feelings for you.
You leaned into his touch briefly. “I didn’t want to be a burden,” you said, your voice wrecked.
“You’re not.” He pulled back enough to really look at you. “You never could be.”
You searched his face, your lip trembling again. “Am I doing enough?”
Your grief already cut open his heart, but your question made him feel the blade all over again.
“You’re doing more than enough. You’re showing up for everyone. That matters,” he swore to you, echoing some of your earlier words as he held you tighter. “More than you know.”
Your eyes shimmered again, but the tears didn’t fall.
“And you can lean on me whenever you need to,” he added, giving you a tender smile. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
You smiled back faintly. “Thanks, Buck.”
“Yeah,” he whispered. “Anytime.”
You let go of his shirt, but didn’t make an effort to move out of his arms. He didn’t move either, taking a second to breathe with you and memorize how it felt to hold you. He’d keep you in his embrace all night if he could.
“Can I just...” You glanced down, your fingers absentmindedly tracing a pattern on your thigh. “Can I say something?”
“Anything,” he answered, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders.
Say whatever you need to. I got you.
“Seeing you… talking to you,” you began. “I always look forward to it.”
You lifted your gaze, somehow more exposed and vulnerable than your earlier tears.
“It’s the best part of my week,” you admitted.
Bucky froze completely.
You exhaled shakily, like you said too much.
“I didn’t want to fall apart in front of you,” you went on while his brain was scrambling to catch up. “But everything felt heavy and I just… I felt safe enough that I could. So… thank you. For that.”
He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. Your words flowed through him, filing every crack he couldn’t seal shut himself.
I’m the best part of your week?
Not work, your friends, or even your family?
Me?
Since the beginning, he told himself to stay in his lane and keep things simple. To be professional. Driver and passenger. That was it.
But you were here in his arms, trusting him enough with something so raw and admitting that he was the one thing that made your week a little lighter.
Him.
And he was still acting as if there was a line he shouldn’t cross?
His thumb brushed your shoulder. You looked to him for comfort tonight. You needed him in a way.
Maybe you wanted him, too.
If that were true, what the hell was he waiting for?
Don’t rush her. Don’t make this about me.
“I appreciate you telling me that,” he whispered once he found his voice. “Let’s get you home, okay?”
You nodded, your energy spent as you shifted from his hold. He felt the loss immediately, the cab feeling colder. But he didn’t linger, as much as he wanted to.
He moved back to the driver seat grudgingly and started the engine.
You weren’t too far from your place, but he drove a bit slower and checked the mirror more than he needed to. You had your legs curled up now, your eyes heavy but open. Not distant or shut down. Just tired.
You had a good reason to feel tired.
But you also gave him a smile when you caught him looking the last time. A small, real one. Because you felt safe.
You’re safe with me.
The lights didn’t seem as harsh when he turned onto your street. The breeze wasn’t as strong. The world seemed to realize you needed little wins after breaking down.
Neither of you moved right away when he parked.
“Hey.” He turned slightly in his seat, your expression glassy but more clear when you handed him the money. “I’m gonna walk you to your building tonight.”
It wasn’t a question or suggestion.
Should’ve been doing that since the first night.
“I’d like that,” you uttered.
“And you can take the blanket,” he offered when you started to fold it. “If you want.”
“Really?” Your eyes widened in realization. “Oh, my God. I took it with me earlier. I’m so sorry.”
Bucky had to smile at the way you looked genuinely distressed, like you had done something unforgivable.
“It’s okay,” he said gently. “You had a lot on your mind.”
You hesitated, but didn’t set it down. “Are you sure I can take it with me?”
“Yeah.” His gaze softened. “I put it back there so you’d be comfortable, and it kinda defeats the purpose if you don’t use it.”
He wouldn’t be there to hold you tonight if you cried again, so the blanket would have to do. It was a small piece of comfort. A small piece of him.
Warmth filled your eyes. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” he replied, meaning it in more ways than one.
He stepped out first, going to your door to open it. He didn’t rush you as you gathered your things, letting you go at your pace. He understood how the body lagged sometimes after everything spilled over.
And his hand was already outstretched to help you out if you wanted it.
You took it.
Instead of the usual spark when your fingers touched, something steadier and grounding moved between you both.
It felt like your hand belonged with his.
It feels right.
He helped you out and fell in step beside you, matching your pace without thinking. Your thumb brushed his skin, making his grip tighten a fraction when he glanced at you. Faint exhaustion lingered in your body, but you weren’t as tense. Your breathing had evened out.
The hurt was still there, but you were safe.
You made it to the door, the light above it casting a glow over you, but you didn’t reach for the handle or let go of his hand.
The soft good nights usually happened at the car, but not tonight.
“Thank you for tonight,” you said above a whisper.
He nodded, everything from the last few weeks pressing into his mind.
Sam on one shoulder. “Be a man and get her number.
Steve on the other. “You’re allowed to want something.”
The teasing. The smiles. The protein bars. The card your niece and nephew made. The movie list.
How you quietly gave him your number. The careful texts. The deeper talks.
The way you trusted him and broke in his arms tonight.
The way you said he’s the best part of your week.
The way he was done pretending that there wasn’t something there between you.
Time to erase the line for good.
He kept your hand in his, refusing to retreat into neutral territory. “I, uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled. “I was thinking.”
You gazed at him expectantly.
“I know things are… a lot right now,” he said, trying to be careful and not add pressure when you had so much on your mind. “With your brother and everything.”
Your grip tightened on the blanket, but you nodded for him to continue.
“And I’m not trying to…” He huffed a little, almost frustrated with himself. “I’m not trying to make things harder for you.”
That was the last thing he wanted to do.
“You’re not,” you said, stepping closer. “You never could.”
That gave him just enough courage to keep going, taking one last deep breath.
Just say it.
“I just… I don’t want to keep pretending that I’m just your cab driver anymore. Not after tonight,” he said, his forehead almost touching yours. “Because you’re the best part of my week, too.”
Your breath caught enough that he felt it.
“So. When things feel less heavy, or you just need a break…” His heart was pounding now. “Would you like to have dinner with me?”
He didn’t breathe as the question hung in the air.
Opening up and asking you out wasn’t going to magically erase the pain or worry you felt. It wouldn’t fix what was happening with your brother. But you didn’t need to go it alone.
You stared at him, almost like you were afraid he’d take the offer back. “Dinner?” you echoed.
“Yeah. Dinner. With me,” he said, his voice low. “No meter running or route. Just… us.”
Just the two of you enjoying each other’s company.
“Because I want to see you outside of the cab.” His thumb brushed your knuckles. “I want to critique movies and books with you and eat pizza or noodles or brinner and just talk. I want Al to finally see my favorite passenger in person.”
A small laugh escaped you, the sound like sunlight appearing after a storm.
“But only if you want, and only when you’re ready.”
You stared at him for a long moment before you smiled, one that reached your eyes for the first time tonight.
“I’d like that,” you said
The rush of relief hit him so fast it almost made him lightheaded. You wanted to have dinner with him. You wanted to see him outside of the weekly routine.
“Yeah?” he asked, just to be sure.
“Yeah,” you replied, tender and certain. “Is… tomorrow too soon?”
Bucky blinked, genuinely thinking he misheard you.
Tomorrow?
His heart stuttered. He expected an offer to check your schedule or something weeks down the line. But not this.
“Tomorrow?” he repeated breathlessly.
You nodded, a tad shy. “Yeah. I mean, if you’re free… and it’s not too fast or anything?”
Too fast?
I’ve been waiting fifteen Thursdays now for this.
“It’s not too fast.” He shook his head, a faint, disbelieving smile tugging at his lips. “It’s actually kinda perfect.”
“It is?”
“It is,” he said, more certain. “Tomorrow’s great.”
Tomorrow meant you wanted this. Not just someday down the line, but now. Even with everything going on.
“We can keep it easy,” he said, his thumb moving over your knuckles again. “Whatever you’re up for.”
“Movie?” you suggested, a small hint of your usual warmth slipping back in. “And noodles?”
He laughed. “Number seven?”
“Number seven,” you confirmed, your smile widening.
“Alright. Noodles and a movie at my place.”
“It’s a date,” you whispered.
A date.
You were still standing close. Close enough that if he leaned in just a fraction… God, he wanted to kiss you. More than anything.
The two of you took an important step. He finally stopped being a coward. You didn’t hold everything in.
But he didn’t kiss you.
Tonight wasn’t about that.
His forehead, however, did intentionally brush yours this time.
“I’ll text you,” he murmured.
“I’ll be waiting.”
And I’ll be counting down the minutes.
You squeezed his hand before finally stepping back, his blanket tucked against your chest. “Good night, Buck.”
He memorized the way you gazed at him, basking in that glow. “Good night.”
You slipped inside, the door clicking shut behind you. There was no drop in his stomach. No nerves.
He didn’t have to wait for another Thursday to see you again.
He finally turned back toward the cab, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to physically process what just happened.
Dinner and a movie.
You wanted to spend time with him.
“Jesus,” he muttered happily under his breath as he slid back into the driver’s seat.
His gaze drifted to the backseat, landing on the empty space where you had been curled up just minutes ago, his blanket wrapped around you, trusting him with something rough and fragile.
When he picked you up tomorrow, you could sit in the front beside him.
His phone buzzed, his heart picking up before he even saw your message.
Of course, it was you.
MFP: “Curled up on the couch with your blanket. Thanks again. For everything.”
It gave him peace of mind knowing you made it into your place safe and sound since he only walked you to the building door.
“Thanks for letting me help.”
He made a difference tonight.
He almost set the phone down when another message popped up.
MFP: “My brother was awake when I reached out.”
He held his breath. Was he okay? Did something happen?
“Yeah?”
Three dots appeared long enough that he sat up straighter.
MFP: “I told him we’re having dinner tomorrow, and he said he’s looking forward to meeting the guy who keeps me safe every week.”
He reread the message until the screen went dark.
Your brother, the one you were terrified for, wanted to meet him.
Becca would want to meet you.
He rubbed a hand over his mouth, trying to ground himself. Something earnest and dangerously close to overwhelming spread from his chest, the card on the dashboard staring at him. It brought a smile to his face.
“I’d be honored to meet him. I’ll have to make a good first impression.”
As a big brother, Bucky sensed and respected that he would be a bit protective of you.
MFP: “You already have.”
The additional layer of assurance did wonders.
MFP: “Get some rest tonight, okay? Happy Friday Eve.”
There it was.
Soft, familiar, and you.
“You, too. And it’s Friday Junior.”
MFP: “Same thing. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” he whispered, happiness filling him to the point where he thought he’d float away.
He shot off a quick message to the guys and Becca. “Got a date tomorrow night. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
With a smile, he put the phone away. He could already see Sam losing his mind and Steve would try and fail to act subtle about it. Becca would demand every detail after. He’d wait until later to see and hear their stunned reactions.
For now, he was going to drive and get a few more people where they needed to go.
But not before taking one last look at your building and picturing you curled up with his blanket.
Fifteen Thursdays.
Fifteen weeks of watching you slip into his cab with tired eyes, soft smiles, and sweetness that made a difference in his day. Fifteen weeks of falling for you in steady increments. Fifteen weeks of chances he almost let slip by because it took him some time to feel brave.
And tonight he erased the line he drew in the sand for good because you mattered more.
You let him see you and it was a beautiful thing.
“Tomorrow,” he said again like a promise, starting the car and pulling away from the curb.
Tomorrow there wouldn’t be a meter running or rearview mirror glances. No pretending it was just another ride. It would just be you and him.
He was counting down the minutes.
And for once, he didn’t feel like he needed to second guess any of it.
Whew! Did we make it? This isn't the end for these two. It's very much a beginning. Would love to hear your thoughts!
Summary: You thought your husband was a kindhearted, gentleman who was deeply in love with you. When you catch your husband murdering someone in cold blood you freak out and run away from him. Bucky is in search of you and is determined to find you. Will he kill you or will he claim what is rightfully his?
Warnings: Smut, teasing, rough sex, choking, possessive, mention of killing the reader a few times, pet name (sweetheart), brief violence mentioned & minor character killed.
A/N 1: Thank you to my beta readers @lfnr-blog-blog-blog & @pigwidgeonxo 💜 (any mistakes in spelling & grammar are my own. I wrote this on my phone)
A/N 2: divider by @whimsicalrogers & header by me.
Reblogs & Comments on Tumblr are welcomed and encouraged. 😊💜
I do NOT give my consent to have my work translated or reposted on any social media platform, apps, or third-party sites. If you see my work anywhere besides my personal Tumblr & AO3 accounts, it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫🚫
It’s been two and a half weeks since you ran away from him. The life you thought you wanted with Bucky was a huge shame. You thought James “Bucky” Barnes was this kind-hearted businessman who swept you off your feet. He was a gentleman, ambitious, caring, protective, and the love of your life. Whatever you wanted, Bucky made sure you had it. It wasn’t about the money and lifestyle though it was how he treated you. He would worship the ground you walked on if you let him. This man was deeply in love with you and you with him.
Now, it turns out he’s a mobster who kills people for a living. Five years of marriage down the drain because you weren’t supposed to be home yet. You had walked in on Bucky interrogating a man strapped to a chair and begging for his life. That life was cut short in front of you as you let out a scream. Bucky looked up at you with both anger and regret in his eyes. He tried to talk to you but you were scared of him and slept in one of the spare bedrooms. Fearful he might kill you next for what you saw. Not wanting to risk it the next day you left.
You had taken money from your bank account, passport, and clothes and fled your home. Going from bus to bus you traveled as far as you could from him and decided to stay in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Keeping your head down you rented out a motel room. You kept to yourself and hardly ever left the room. This was a temporary plan as you tried to figure out how to leave the country. Anywhere in the world was better than here.
Where would you go? Could you move on from this marriage knowing who your husband was? What if he tried to find you? The stress got to you as you ran to the toilet to throw up your lunch. Flushing the toilet you go to the sink to brush your teeth. Your mouth is now minty fresh as you ponder the one question that keeps haunting you. Would he kill you if he ever found you?
Your hands clenched around the sink as you took in your reflection in the mirror. The bags under your eyes show that you haven’t slept much since heading out on your own. Looking away from the mirror you head into the small room and sit on the bed. Your heart mourns for what could have been between you and Bucky. Now that future is no longer a dream for you.
There was a knock at your door that sent fear down your spine. Could it be him? You shake your head at the thought. There is no way he found you in this little town. Again the knock rang out in your room and you slowly made your way to the door. Looking through the peephole you see a woman holding towels. You open it slowly and are greeted by a friendly voice.
“I have fresh towels for you hun. I know it’s been a few days since you switched them out.” She reached out to give them to you and politely you took them.
“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you mumbled.
“If you need anything hun you just call down to the front desk and we will get it for you.” The lady turned around and started to push her cart to the next room.
You closed the door and set the towels down on the towel rack in the bathroom. A knock on your door rang out again and you wondered what she wanted now. Huffing you walked to the door and opened it up. There in front of you was your husband, Bucky. He placed a finger to your mouth to shush you. His deep blue eyes stared into your soul as he smiled at you.
“Hello, my beautiful wife. Happy to see me?” He chuckled as you stared at him in shock.
Bucky started to push his way into the room and shut the door. You wanted to scream for help but it died on your tongue. You walked backward until your legs hit the bed and you sat down, tears falling from your eyes. This couldn’t be real. How did he find you?
Bucky took in your features and sighed. He knew you were tired from running for the last two-plus weeks. He could tell you were scared of him and that didn’t help what he was feeling inside. Bucky wanted to yell at you and curse you for leaving him. But he knew you were too frail to take his anger. So he kneeled in front of you and grabbed your hand.
“Do you know why I’m here sweetheart?”
Slowly you nodded your head. “T-To kill me?” The tears continued to fall from your eyes as he just stared at you. There was nowhere to run anymore. This was the end of the line for you.
There was a long silence between you both before he said anything. “As tempting as that is, no, I’m not here to kill you sweetheart. I’m here to take you home with me.”
You looked at him confused by what he said. “But I thought… I mean I saw you kill someone. Don’t mobsters like to tie up loose ends and get rid of witnesses?”
Bucky couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips. “Most of the time, yes. But what you witnessed that’s on me for bringing my work home. Do you know why that man was murdered?”
You shook your head no. Did you even want to know at this point? The less you knew the better it was for you.
Wiping the tears that continued to fall from your eyes, Bucky leaned in to kiss your forehead. “That man wanted to kill you. The thought of you being taken from me forever sent me in a rage. You’re my wife and I love you with every breath I take. I tortured that man until I got him to squeal like the pig he was. His reasoning to kill you was to hurt me and the empire that I’ve built. But I vowed to protect you on our wedding day and it still holds true today. I would rather die than see you hurt on my watch. So please understand why I did it. It was all for you.”
His words started to make you feel sick again. Someone wanted you to die? But who? You were merely a housewife. However, that didn’t seem true anymore. You were the housewife of a mobster who ran an empire in New York. He not only loved you deeply but he also killed for you. Killed in the name of love.
“Bucky, I don’t know what to say. This is all too much for me to take in. So you just regularly kill people who threaten me? Was this the only guy or have there been more?”
He took a deep breath and exhaled. “This wasn’t the first and probably won’t be the last. It’s the head of a rival mob that wants you dead. That’s why you need to come with me so I can protect you. Can’t you see I need you by my side? I’m asking you to trust me and follow me out of here before someone gets to you.”
“How can I trust you Bucky? You lied about your work all these years and pretended to be someone else. It’s like I don’t even know you. How do I know this isn’t a lie to get me to leave with you so you can kill me?”
Your breaths start to pick up as you start to hyperventilate. You could feel the familiar panic attack start to hit. This was not how you saw this playing out. Bucky helped you with your breathing exercises to slowly calm you down.
Bucky looked at you seriously. “You can trust me 'cause I’m your husband. I only lied about my job but that was to protect you. I see now I should have been honest with you from the beginning. But you do know me, sweetheart. I’m still the same man that you married. Please stop thinking I’m going to kill you. That breaks my heart every time you bring it up.”
Bucky stands up now and helps you to your feet. “We need to leave now, please.” He all but begs you.
Catching your breath you look for your bag on the table and start to gather all the clothes and items you brought with you. Within minutes you are packed and Bucky goes to the front door and opens it. His best friend and right-hand man, Steve, looks back at him.
“The coast is clear, boss. Though I’m getting word someone is on their way here now.”
Bucky looks back at you with his hand outstretched. “Come on, let's go home.”
Hearing what Steve said had you holding Bucky’s hand and walking quickly out of the room. Within seconds you are in a black SUV and being whisked away to the private airport just outside of town. Your hand clenched against his as you reached the airport. There was a private jet waiting on the tarmac as you both walked hand in hand and got on the plane. Within moments the plane was in the sky and you were both heading back to New York.
Exhausted from an emotional standpoint you found yourself in Bucky’s lap on the plane with your head under his chin sleeping peacefully. Steve sat in a seat opposite him and smiled at his friend. “I hope you’re right about this boss.”
When the plane landed Bucky woke you up gently by kissing your temple. Your eyes blinked a few times as you stretched your arms over your head. Bucky grabbed your hand again and you both exited the plane where another SUV was waiting to take you home. Driving back home the SUV pulled up to your house on the outskirts of the city. Exiting the SUV you and Bucky walked up the steps and entered the front door. It was exactly how you left it.
“I’m going to head to the bedroom so I can soak in the tub before bed. Is that alright with you?” You questioned, taking your husband's form in.
“Yes, sweetheart, that’s fine with me. I will be up in a minute or two.”
As you climbed the stairs you headed toward the bedroom and shut the door.
Steve watched you both in silence and didn’t speak until you were out of sight. “Do you think it’s smart bringing her back? She could be a liability. Maybe you should have stuck with your original plan after she left.”
Bucky turned to his friend and backhanded him causing Steve’s face to whip to the side. “The decision has been made and she is home now. I can’t live without her. Maybe if you found love Steven you would understand my decision.”
Heading up the stairs Bucky starts to think things out. Truth is it didn’t take them the full two and a half weeks to find you. As soon as you left New York there was a tail on you. Bucky always made sure someone was watching you at all times. So the first day you stepped into that little town he was notified of your well-being. He gave you two weeks to decide what you wanted to do. Were you going to fly and have him chase you around the globe or were you going to come quietly back home to him? Thankfully, you chose right, and now he has you back in his life again. Plus with you going to learn to trust him again he wouldn’t have to kill you after all. Yes, he contemplated it when you first left but his dark heart was against it from the start. He did love you and couldn’t wait to start a family with you. Now that you know the truth he could make you his Queen.
Walking into the bedroom he closed the door behind him. He could see you in the tub from where he stood and licked his lips. You were always a temptress to him and made him weak in the knees. Bucky was gonna make you his tonight to be sure you were never leaving him again. Slowly he started to undress as he made his way to the bathroom. By the time he stood beside the tub, his cock was rock hard. You stared up at him with doe eyes and exhaled with how big and thick his cock was standing at attention. It was something that still had you aching for him, for that stretch between your legs.
“Sit forward sweetheart so I can sit behind you. I want to help you relax.”
You did as he said and made room for him to sit down. The tub was huge and could sit you both comfortably. Once he got seated he pulled your back to his chest and kissed your shoulder. His hands started to wander your body as you started making soft noises of pleasure. Every gasp and hitched breath made him want to take you more. But for now, he knew you needed this first to relax your mind, body, and spirit. He caressed your breasts and pinched your nipples, rolling them between his fingers. You arched against him moaning his name softly as his right hand descended your body and to his favorite spot between your legs. His fingers found your clit and started to rub it in slow circles making you whine cause you needed more pressure there. The more he teased you the more you whined against his shoulder. This is how he liked you, a moaning mess who begged for what she needed.
“Please Bucky, I need you. I have to have you inside me.” Your hips moved to the way he was working you and suddenly he stopped, making you huff in frustration.
“I love it when you beg for me. If I’m going to take you it will be in our bed where I can fuck you like I hate you.” He growled out at you.
Draining the tub both you and Bucky got out and quickly dried off. Heading to the bedroom Bucky grabbed you by the back of the neck and led you to the king-size bed. Reaching the bed he pushed you face down and grabbed your hips. Before you could say anything Bucky had thrusted his long, thick cock into you hard drawing out a pornographic moan from you. His pace was hard as he fucked you deeply. Your hands dig into the sheets as your husband takes you like a useless whore. His fingers dig harder into your hips as he groans above you.
“Take my cock. Every fucking inch of it.” He breathed out over and over.
“Fuck, yes, Bucky. More…” you begged.
Bucky’s left-hand moves to your clit and harshly starts rubbing it. In a matter of seconds, you are moaning his name loud for all to hear. Your walls clenching around him almost taking him over that hurdle but he quickly pulls out and flips you over to your back. He pushes you up the bed a little and re-enters you in one painful thrust. Your legs are around his trim waist while he is battering your pussy using you for his pleasure. His right-hand grabs your neck and starts choking you. Your hands fly up to his hand and try to alleviate the pressure on your neck.
“This pussy is mine. You are mine.” He growls out at you. “If you ever leave me again I swear no one will ever find your body. Do you understand me? Nod your pretty head if you understand.”
You frantically nod your head to the best of your ability. As Bucky pounds into your pussy over and over again. After a few punishing thrusts, Bucky feels your body tense around him as you silently scream your release this time taking Bucky with you. Bucky lets your throat go as he cums with a roar painting your insides with his release.
You gasp for air while Bucky pulls out of you and collapses next to you on his side. The only sound in the room is you both panting in and out. Sex was always like this between you both, rough, hard, and exhilarating. But when he said no one would find your body if you ever left again made you nervous. Was he just saying things in the heat of the moment as usual? It had to have been ‘cause he promised never to hurt you.
Bucky got up to clean himself off first then returned to the bedroom with a washcloth to clean you up. He was humming when you both crawled under the blankets to get ready for bed. You clung to his side as you rested your head on his chest. Bucky just wrapped you up in his arms and held you.
“No one will ever mess with you ever again my love. For if they do they will feel the wrath of me pouring down upon them ten times over. You are my lover, my wife, my everything, and nothing will ever tear us apart again.”
“Yes, Bucky.” A part of you loved knowing he would always protect you. That he had the means to do so. The other part was terrified of what this man could do to not only his enemies but to you. Now you were too scared to leave his side ever again.
You had drifted off to sleep as Bucky started to put a plan in place if you ever left him again. The house did have a nice basement that he could convert into a living area to lock you away from the world. He would never be without you again. I mean you’re rightfully his.
envy - jealousy of somebody's success and a desire to have it for yourself.
cw: smut, feelings, body worship, jake is a little emotionally stunted, he learns to chillout a bit, nothing really kinky.
a/n: I know you guys were expecting some dom angry jake or something but i just want to kiss him tbh.
It had been a blissful few weeks. Khonshu had gone under for a while, meaning the boys had a long stretch of rest and relaxation. Marc had taken full advantage; slept almost every hour he fronted, honestly. You had some good snuggles on the couch together before bed. Steven was picking up a hobby of painting, and you loved to sit with him at the kitchen table and watch his creations.
Your relationship was glowing. There hadn't ever been such a long time that you could just be together, without worrying about Khonshu or anybody else.
Although, you couldn't help but feel something was wrong. Jake had always been the quietest alter, but he made sure to pop in at least once and say hello or dive for a kiss. He'd leave notes on the fridge or send flowers to your work.
Recently he'd been nearly silent. You could hear him in the morning; his footsteps were by far the heaviest, and he always hummed Sinatra while he brewed the coffee. But as soon as you'd go over to say good morning, Marc would blink back at you.
You hadn't said anything the first few days. Maybe he's catching up on sleep. But after a week, you'd started to feel hurt. it wasn't just his absence.
He looked at you differently. His eyes were cloudy and he didn't make eye contact. His jaw was clenched tightly. He looked...mad?
Jake hardly ever ignored you when he was upset. He was a little conflicted but he'd always apologize, showering you with affection.
The thought somersaulted in your head while you stood by the sink. Your cup of coffee had gone cold as you thought. Had you said something? Did you forget an important day? None of the valid reasons you could think of applied.
"You alright, dear?"
Steven's gentle question broke your reverie. A wistful smile flitted across your face.
"Hm? Oh, yeah, thanks, Steven," you nodded, kissing him on the cheek. "Just thinking."
He rubbed your shoulder and nodded towards the television. "Marc's been wanting to watch a new show, you wanna join."
"Is that even a question?"
Laughing, you both curled up on the sofa, an old quilt tucked under your feet. It was a crime show, of course, but even with the gruesome details you found yourself drifting off, wrapped in warmth in Steven's lap.
Some time later, you woke to a jostling. Rubbing crust from your eyes, you pulled the blanket tighter and tried to find Steven. He was halfway off the couch, one leg still trapped under you.
"Why you leaving?" You mumbled pitifully, reaching out. He paused, before lifting his leg and stepping away.
"'M not Steven."
"Jake!" you sat up, suddenly awake. "Baby, where've you-"
"I'm gonna go to bed. He'll be back in the morning." He leaned forward and brushed the barest kiss to your hair, before stalking off.
You felt like you'd just been slapped. In your eight months with the boys, Jake was by far the most intimate, craving touch whenever possible. He'd cry if you didn't kiss him before work. And all of a sudden, he balked at a couch snuggle?
What?
The blanket trailed behind you, slithering over the cold floorboards as you padded after him.
He'd already shucked Steven's jeans and pulled the covers up to his chin, facing the wall.
You knew better than that. Jake's shoulders tensed when the mattress dipped. Shifting close, you tucked your hands around his waist and locked your legs around his hips.
He was stiff as a board, hands firmly under his pillow. You huffed, nudging your nose into his neck. He twitched at the ticklish feeling and you tried again, flicking your tongue out. Jake grunted and turned over, nose-to-nose with you.
"Hey," you whispered. His eyes glittered dark in the low light. You so badly wanted him to lean forward and brush your lips with his, but he stayed a few inches away.
"Steven and Marc are asleep," he whispered back. "You can see them later."
"I don't want them."
Something about your tone, soft and clingy, made his brow furrow. There was that look again; frustrated and cold. You leaned in to hide the cracking of your hurt.
He pulled away. You whined quietly, eyes welling. Jake's chest burned when he saw your tears, but he kept silent.
"Are...are you mad at me?" he'd never heard your voice so shattered. It cleaved a hole right through his heart. Words got stuck in his throat. No, he wasn't mad. How could he be mad? You did so much for them, all of them. Maybe more for Marc and Steven, but...
"Mariposa..." he lifted a hand to your cheek. You leaned in, fisting your hands at his chest. Jake reluctantly held you back, tucking his chin over your head. You burrowed as tight as possible, squeezing against him in a way that made his heart hurt.
"Why did you leave?"
The question met his ears and he sighed. The complicated slurry of emotions hung heavy in his chest. Taking a laborious breath, he shrugged.
"Didn't want to interrupt the show."
"No. Why did you leave?" You pulled away, brow set. He looked away, exposed. That raw nerve that entangled his heart was throbbing with alarm. He was too open, too vulnerable. Both of his headmates were out, cutting off two of the exits.
A soft rub to his chest. He'd been hyperventilating. Your eyes were wide and worried.
"Jake?"
It was too much. He wanted to get away. This was too hard to explain. It wasn't supposed to be this difficult, why did you have to ask? Your curiosity was adorable but it disrupted his brooding intentions.
The bedroom began to fall away as a tight thrumming of his anxiety took over.
He shuddered in a breath, raking a hand over his face.
"I..." The rest of the sentence was gluey on this throat. He coughed and tried again. "I didn't want to interrupt...you."
"Interrupt? What do you mean?" You were still stroking his shoulder gently. Tears threatened to fall. this was going so badly.
"You. And...them."
Another slap to the face. You gaped at him, more in hurt than in shock. "Us? You mean - Jake, what the hell are you talking about? You're not interrupting anything-"
"Leave it, amor, forget I said anything," he muttered, cowering behind his walls again. You wrenched his head to yours in frustration.
"No, Jake Lockley, I will not forget it." Your eyes softened. "Why do you feel like that?"
"It's not-"
"It is important, mister."
Feeling like a child, Jake shuffled to face you and harrumphed.
"It...it seemed like you were in the middle of something," he mumbled, neck heating. Frowning, you shook your head.
"So? You're not banned from participating. I'd love to watch something with you."
You weren't getting it. This was why Steven did all the talking. Frustration churned in his chest. He just wanted to sleep and shoulder this off to Marc. You liked him better anyway.
"Just stop," he hissed, backing away, "you have your things with them, go enjoy that. You don't need me."
You were dumbfounded. What?
"Don't need y- Jake, what the hell?"
His claws were out, shielding the raw emotion pulsing in his heart. Just stop.
"You like them better, si? I know you want Marc, just let me sleep and he'll be-"
You yanked his head to yours, scowling at his bitter tone. A mix of torrential sorrow and dumbfounded irritation tore at your ribs.
"Jake Lockley," you seethed, "you've said that once and I won't settle for a second time. You are not nothing."
He met your anger with his, but a shining film of tears diluted the rage. "No," he whispered.
"I love you too, idiot," you said indignantly, tugging his hair. he bashfully ducked his head, wanting to hide the watery tears bubbling up.
"You know that, right?"
He didn't move.
"Jake."
You carefully lifted his chin, peering into his glistening eyes. A tiny, imperceptible whimper.
"Oh, honey."
He collapsed into your hug as you stroked his back, murmuring soothing reassurances as he choked back a sob. He'd never felt so exposed. The delicate flesh of his chest was flayed open, revealing the timidly thumping cavern of his heart. Red and tender, too soft to cope with the dangers of out there. it felt like you'd reached in and grabbed it, cradling it like the sun. Jake curled into himself, head dropping onto your chest.
"You- you just seem so right with them an' I didn't know if you actually needed me or if I was just there an', an-"
You pulled him to your chest, shushing the sobs that wracked his frame. Internally, you were a mess. He'd never shown this much of himself. How long had he been thinking this way? Thinking you didn't love him as much?
"Of course I want you," you said, shocked. "Of course, love, you're all important to me. Equally," you said firmly. Jake choked into your shirt and you rocked, side to side.
"Why would you think that?" you asked gently when he'd gotten his breathing back to normal.
He avoided your gaze, hot shame curdling his stomach. This wasn't how he expected this to go. He wanted you to brush him off, give him the predictable air of nothing. Clean apathy was easier to live in.
Jake felt like a baby deer, stumbling around in the throes of love, trying to get his feet back under him. This was new. this was different, he wasn't used to being so unsteady. He was the strong one, the big bad Jake that had everything under control-
"It's okay," you whispered, kissing his cheek, "I understand. Just let it out for a bit."
His hands curled at your hips, pulling you tighter as he hid in your neck.
Your shirt was soaked when you pulled away. He still wouldn't look at you, but you could feel his grip tighten on your wrists. Don't go.
Still kissing his face, you gently rucked up his shirt and stroked his chest. Jake sniffled and held you tighter, mouth connecting messily with your neck. The wet warmth of his tears mixed tenderly with his soft lips.
Carefully, like calming a spooked animal, you kissed down his jaw, laving your tongue on his neck and shoulders. Jake stuttered, unsure of how to handle the raw emotion. This was his thing. He did that, not the other way round. You kissed down his sternum, cradling his hands in yours.
"Pretty," you whispered into his warm skin. "have I told you how pretty you are?"
His chest was seized with emotion so thick he could barely breathe. 'I-I look the same as the others," he gritted out, trying to salvage his exterior. A petulant mewl when you sucked a bruise above his heart.
"I know, but you're lovely in your own way." You hovered over the mark, blowing gently and smiling at the prickling goosebumps. Jake didn't know up from down as you continued your slow descent. The heady mix of lust and adoration was making his head fuzzy.
The apartment fell away while you held him. He had started crying again; a silent barrage of warm tears trickling down his cheeks. You licked up the salt, pressing the taste of his yearning onto his tongue. Jake moaned weakly into your mouth, pawing at your shirt.
"Patient," you whispered, returning to your task.
He hiccupped and raked a hand through your hair. The thumping of his heart in your hands was harder now, glistening with newfound love. You continued to wrap him in a protective cape of encouragement, coaxing his shoulders to relax.
You stopped above his waistband, moving to straddle his lap. "Follow my lead," you instructed gently, looking into the dark well of his gaze. Jake Lockley was at a loss for words as you rocked against him, tucking is head in your neck.
The pure intimacy was stifling. He couldn't breathe around the weight of the affection you carried for him. Something had burrowed into the pores of his skin, tearing down the stone barricades around his mind.
The exposure didn't feel so bad. You were right there next to him, keeping his soft frailty from crumbling.
"You've got such nice eyes," you murmured, your own sweet gaze shining with kindness. Sniffling another wave of tears as you kissed his eyelids, Jake felt another wave of emotion.
The comments continued, praising his hair, his mouth, his skin, his strength. Each word rebuilt a piece of his armor.
Softer, better. Like flexible cotton rather than strangling iron. Somehow it felt stronger. Like he was soaring above the Earth, unstoppable.
"you're strong, Jake," you licked into his mouth, "you do such a good job with Steven, keeping him safe."
Alto. no, no, no he couldn't no this. too close to his sensitive middle. caught off guard, he reflexively pulled away, hackles raised. You crept higher on his lap, refusing to let him hide.
"marc knows too, sees how patient you are when he's mad." Another warm kiss and Jake was a mess.
His heart had been pounded to a bloody pulp with every praise, shuddering and pulsing weakly on the floor. your hands were stained, but you still held him lovingly. How did- how did you-
Another shuddering breath, and you blessed him with a reprieve from the attention. Your coaxing, tender touches never stopped, still petting the tension from his bones.
Jake was at the top of the tower, staring down into the abyss of this. This new thing; the drowning mass of you.
jump.
jump, he could do it. just dive in.
Your eyes met his again. "te amo."
the wind whistled by his ears. it's okay, it's okay, he'd-
he landed safely in your embrace, diving forwards to devour your mouth with his. This time you didn't push him away, but pulled him on top of you, running your hands over his sides. He desperately grabbed at your hips, wanting to mold into you. to grow into one body, every cell touching and twining until nothing could pull you apart.
"It's okay, hey," you cooed, helping him burrow into your chest. The warmth of your breasts surrounded his face. This was familiar, he could do this.
A shuddering sigh drifted musically through the room as he kissed and sucked, hoping to drive you even close to the pleasure you'd brought him.
His kisses were needy, harsh and desperate. thank you, they said. thank you thank you thank you.
Gently, softly, he licked down into your folds, pulling aside your panties. The soft tang of your sex made his heart flutter. Your hand was fisted in his hair, tugging and raking delicious rows of arousal into his core. Rivers of lust poured from every inch of him, fueled by the intensity of your affection.
"Good," he moaned into your folds, licking up your slick, "g-good God please-"
You trilled a pleased sigh, thighs tightening around his ears. Jake was engulfed in you; your sent, your softness, your everything. He didn't want to leave. How could he? The syrupy trap of your honeyed attraction had ensnared his heart and wasn't letting go.
"I love you," you panted at your climax, "Iloveyousomuch oh-"
Jake groaned when your wetness met his tongue again, drinking from your well like a parched soldier.
He climbed up your body, diving back into your mouth. You shuddered and wrapped around him, hand traveling to stroke slowly at his hardness. Whining softly, he positioned you to sit on top.
Another powerful punch of lust knocked the air from his lungs as you slipped him inside, face contorting with pleasure. Pride swelled, knowing he could do that to you. Him, not Marc or Steven or anybody else. You moaned and writhed for him.
Your kiss-swolled lips were slack as you rolled your hips, hands planted firmly on his chest. Jake brushed the hair from your face, gazing darkly into your hazy eyes.
"Mariposa," he breathed, capturing your lips in his. The shift made him slide deeper, stroking a heavenly spot deep inside. You cried out against his mouth and he swallowed the sound greedily, rocking harder and harder.
"Need," he moaned, "need you to f-feel good, baby, need ah-"
You clenched around him, hands digging into his back. The fluttering, trembling warmth that surrounded him was intoxicating. Jake slumped against the headboard, bucking his hips as you draped over him. Your warm, slick bodies rolled together, riding waves and waves of pleasure.
Not an inch between you wasn't completely smothered by the other. Jake felt hot arousal peaking in his core, sending a rush of adrenaline through his shaking muscles.
"Amor," he heaved, "amor, oh, please cum, please please I need you to cum," his voice pitched higher. You whimpered, shuddering as his thick girth stroked your walls perfectly, caressing every spot inside. He pulled you tighter, clutching you to his chest.
The sheets were twisted tight around your limbs, rucking and rutting harder and faster into each other. A sinful moan ripped your throat as you bounced on him, soft flesh glowing with the orgasmic halo. A final mewl and you were finished, pulsing hot and tight around him.
Jake bucked once more and thrust hard, shooting his climax as deep as possible. Your velvety folds greedily flared around him, drinking in his spend as you shuddered and keened. Before he'd even finished, he'd tucked you under him, greedily pressing his mouth against your sweaty neck.
I love you, he slurred, I love you so much, baby.
Your fingers limply entertwined with his, finally at peace.
You shouldn’t be walking down this street at this time of night.
You shouldn’t be walking down this street at all.
This was the part of town that humans stayed away from, unless they wanted to be front and centre on a missing persons poster. Old, seeped in magic and myth, seduction and danger pulsing over its streets in waves that shimmered, like heat rose from tarmac. This part of the city was wreathed in it, like a mirage, like something in a dream. The tourists were warned away from it, but they still came, to the point the creatures within even allowed the city offices permits for tour buses to pass, warnings and enticements blaring from the guides megaphones.
Legend City was the place where cold hard reality went to die, and fairy tales and monsters roamed.
Legend City was where you had come to die.
No one knew what happened in Legend City exactly, just that the Old Ones lived here, and in similar places all over the world. They had been here first, the cave paintings and archeological digs told that story, but still no one knew exactly what they were or why they didn’t involve themselves in the day to day existence of the planet they lived on. No one even knew exactly what they were. Everything from vampires to mermaids, shifters, angels, hell, maybe even BigFoot, they were all rumoured to dwell within the planet, and hold their own corners where humans were not allowed to enter.
The rain plastered your coat to your skin, shivers wracked your body, cold so deep in your bones that you feared you would never feel warm again, but that thought only made you laugh. That was the whole point of walking into the city, wasn’t it? To feel the frozen embrace of death, so that you could not feel, ever again? It was a madness in you, but a calculated one. You had this one opportunity to escape, and this one opportunity only. Your life was a series of mistakes, from moving away from home over a decade ago, to falling for the first man who was nice to you, to now. To every bruise and ache and nightmare. The therapists and friends you didn’t have would say none of this was your fault, but you knew better.
You didn’t care anymore. Even if the punishment for trespass was death, then you would take it.
The streets of the city within a city were eerily muffled, even over the old style cobblestones, and in your heels. Everything felt strange around you, both still and electric with promise. The rain poured down, you could hear every single rain drop against the surfaces, but the absolute silence of the street pounded over everything else.
Women were known to come into this city and never come back. The mayor said they died, a way to make everyone stay away, but the rumours were that they were kept by the creatures within. That wasn’t why you were here of course, you would never again allow anyone, or anything, to hold you to them by force. You just wanted out. Whatever came at you from this dark place, it would find you with your final fight in your heart, and you would make it kill you rather than risk trying to drag you away.
You felt like you walked for hours, legs leaden, dread heavy in your gut, past cold and into a burning that froze, the world tilting at weird angles, your watch stopped on your wrist. You call out for someone, something, to come to you, but your voice is muffled. Like when you cry for help in one of your recurring dreams, your bellow snatched before it can leave your throat. No one hears you, nothing comes.
You’re lost in the maze of tightly winding cobbled streets. You pass the same bronze statue of some kind of terrifying beast for the third time when you finally collapse on the floor with a grunt of pain. All you hear is the rain, the silence, and your quiet sobs. You couldn’t even die right.
You feel the growl before you hear it. Low. Menacing. There’s a thrill of something when you feel it ring through your blood, and you look up into the shadows pooled at the entrance of the alley opposite you, and see burning blue eyes staring out at you from the black depths.
You feel fear. Of course you do. But that charge flows through you again, and you stare back,
“Come out, come out, whatever you are…”
It’s barely a whisper, the taunt almost afraid to leave your lips, but this is why you’re here. To look death in the eye and smile before it bites.
The eyes narrow, and then you see the face of the thing that stalks you. Pale white fur, teeth stained dark red, a massive body that speaks of extreme power. The wolf is larger than you would’ve expected, and its growl grows louder. You weren’t expecting a wolf, it’s almost… normal. The confusion paralyses you for the length of time it takes for the creature to prowl out and towards you, the rain still pounding, but you no longer hear it, your eyes locked on the beasts,
“Go on… do it… do it!” Your hiss is drowned out by the rain, but the creature hears you, it’s head tilting to one side, another growl reverberating through your bones, “I know you want to, whatever the hell you are,” you look at the blood dripping from its teeth, “I interrupted your meal, didn’t I? Well? Come and get dessert!”
The wolf huffs out what you almost imagine is a laugh at your nerve, but then a reckless kind of fury overtakes you, and you lash out and smack the creature on the nose,
“Don’t laugh at me! I’m not a joke! I’m not here for your entertainment! Just do it!”
The wolf doesn’t snarl, or yelp, or even move. Instead it stares, and you feel the look down to your soul,
I would run now, little mortal.
It’s the shock more than anything that makes you move. A hungry wolf is what you had been faced with, and you’d almost allowed yourself to forget where you were and what you could be facing. That was no standard hungry predator.
It talked to you in your head.
Your bones creaked where the minute fractures were, old bruises and new flaring in sudden sharp pain, but you hauled yourself to your feet and ran as instructed, your breath painful in your lungs almost immediately. You were too cold, too tired, too hurt to run for long. The pounding of the wolf's paws was soon replaced by something worse, horror in your gut.
Wings.
A shifter.
Or worse.
The rumours of shifters abounded, but the myths said that it wasn’t just the animals that lived here. There were others who could be whatever they wanted, and they feasted on blood. Vampires.
One alley morphed into another, then another, then you ran past the same bronze statue for a third time again, and realised the thing behind you was playing with you. The unfairness of it choked you and you came to a complete stop, the ruffle of wings brushed past your ear making you flinch on a shriek,
“Stop playing, and do it!”
It’s not the powerful bellow you wanted it to be, it’s soft, weak, pathetic. Your ribs screamed in pain, stealing the anger in your body until you’re almost bent double, ready for the blows you’ve come to expect when you speak out. It wasn’t fair. You’d been brave for once in your life, taken matters into your own hands, and not even the Legends would help you.
The wing beats stop suddenly. Footsteps come unhurriedly at your back. That odd muffling came over everything again, the rain distant even as it continued to drench you, all you heard was those slow and measured steps as they closed in at your back. Long fingers close around your shoulders, cool and firm, it’s like being held by marble,
“I don't take orders from mortals,” the presence stepped closer to you, bringing his largest body flush to yours. The voice was deep, intrinsically male, it reverberated through you, soothing the tension in your shoulders until you almost relaxed against him, “why are you here, human?”
Do as you’re told, and answer me.
“I want you to kill me,” the words came out easily, almost eagerly, you wanted to make this large male presence happy, you wanted to tell him everything, “I…”
He tilts your head to the side, the expanse of your neck bared to him, one finger gliding smoothly over the skin, goosebumps following in its wake,
“Why should I kill you? Your blood sings to me…” the finger leaves your skin, an ache of loss fills you, until the man turns you to face him and the impact of his presence hits you almost enough to wake you from his thrall.
He’s tall, powerful, you can tell he’s built like a warrior, even under the expensive suit he’s wearing. Inhumanly beautiful, and those eyes… such a shade of blue…
“Open your mouth, sweet human… stick your tongue out for me…”
You do it blindly, hypnotised by those eyes, that voice… he raises his index finger to his lips, grazes the flesh over one incredibly sharp incisor. A thrill of fear goes through you when you see his teeth sharpen and extend, but he hushes you, bringing you closer to him and tilting your head back. A droplet of his blood sits on his finger, ruby red, glistening, and there’s no fight in you as he brings it to your tongue and drags the viscous fluid along the surface,
“Now swallow it, sweet human. You shan’t feel the cold any longer… I like my food warm,”
Sure enough, the shivers you didn’t realise were wracking your body disappeared, leaving you lax with an insidious warmth. A hum of pleasure emanated from you as the male scooped you up easily and walked you to a shadowed corner, where he placed you on your feet. He put himself behind you again, bringing one arm around your front to hold you to him. You didn’t fight, exactly, not as he slowly peeled off your coat from your shoulders, or tugged at the fabric of your top to bare your shoulders, but you did move a little.
He was strong. His arms are like metal. You couldn’t escape, even if you wanted to. Which, of course, you didn’t. You wanted this. You wanted him.
His nose trailed up your neck, his tongue traced idly over your pulse before his lips pressed against your ear,
“I will not be killing you this night, no… your blood is potent, sweet mortal…”
“No…” your eyes closed as his hands went to your waist, so easily keeping you still as he pressed a kiss to your neck, “… please,”
“Tell me why. Most mortals desire the complete abandon of being in my dungeon,” he raised his hands higher to your rib cage, “it is not just the blood kiss your body craves, I can sense the arousal in you-”
His hands had raised a little further, fingers tightening just under your breasts, and you’d flinched in pain without thought, breaking the spell this man had on you and stumbling forward out of his grip. The rain still fell over you but you couldn’t feel it anymore, that pervasive warmth still inside you. Your breath fogged the air in front of you, rapid bursts that almost obscured the creature - the vampire - in front of you.
Almost.
His eyes shone dangerous blue from the shadows, a dark presence that watched you like a hungry wolf on the prowl. His voice reverberated through the air, you felt it in your bones, in your soul,
“Who hurt you, darling?”
The term of endearment threatened to choke you. He was a predator, he shouldn’t care enough to give you a nice name. You shook your head, but his question pierced the night once more, this time an order you were compelled to obey,
“Who put those bruises and broken bones on you?”
“M- my bo-boyfriend, I…”
John had done worse, of course. You were no longer something to be cherished in his eyes, just a nuisance that he knocked around and used when it suited him. So many years together, a lifetime really, and it had come to this. The sunshine of your early life ended in the dark, rain slicked streets, at the hands of a vampire legend. The creature stared at you as he closed the distance you created, his head tilted as you babbled,
“John, he- I heard him say to his friend, that he wanted to- he’s found someone else, and we’re not married, not yet, but he wants the house, he said that he would leave me here, for- for you, the L-Legends… if I go missing, if I’m pronounced dead, then he can- oh…” your back met the wall on the opposite side of the alley, the vampire leading you there as he stalked you. You didn’t know, magic or just his presence, but he towered over you, blocking out everything until you looked into his eyes again.
It wasn’t a thrall. At least you didn’t think it was. You spoke without hesitation this time, as you looked up at the thing that would kill you,
“I decided to take matters into my own hands. John left for some trip, I set the scene, and came here. Please do one thing for me?” The vampire didn’t answer, he just tilted his head, placing his hands on your shoulders, “leave my body where it will be found. He will get blamed for my death. I want John to suffer.”
A flash of fangs, and you closed your eyes, ready to die and leave behind a corpse that would destroy that man that was truly responsible for your death, but instead of pain, you felt the press of lips to your ear again,
“And what if I offered something more, darling? Your fear has blinded you to the true reason why you sought me out. It’s not to be a beautiful corpse, no…” he tilts your head back, he’s hands covering your throat, “you want to be the one to destroy John -” a sneer on his face like saying his name brought disgust to the vampire, “- you want to be the one to bring about his demise, not the other way around,”
You stare up at him, your heart thumping, the rain pounding around you both. It was like a nightmare. Like a dream.
“I couldn’t… I’ve tried fighting back. It doesn’t end well for me,” your voice drops down to a whisper, your eyes drop to the floor in shame, you can almost see your reflection in the shiny tops of his well polished shoes,
“It will this time, darling. It will this time.” His wrist appears in front of your mouth, a bite mark oozing blood from it, dark red, like wine, “Drink, my darling, and you will be powerful enough to quickly end John's life on a whim, or make it last, over decades of it pleases you,”
“And if I don’t?” You look up to meet those eerie blue eyes, but you don’t feel it this time, no sinking into his influence, just a clear headed obsession, “If I say no?”
“Then,” he smiles, flashing pearly white fangs, “there is still my dungeon, darling. I don’t think you realise… you will never again leave my sight now I have you, and John will be dead before sunrise,”
You lick your lips, this monster's blood calls to you, its scent a heady mix of chocolate, flowers, wine, everything decadent and sensual…
“Will I become like you?”
“No… not yet. I will be joined with you when I turn you. This taste will just heal you, give you strength to end your torment,”
“I don't even know your name,” your heart jumping at his terminology. ‘Joined’ sounded so…
“I’ve been known by many names, darling. Call me James.”
With that, he pulled your head back and pressed his cold wrist to your mouth, the blood pulsed between your open lips and you took a sip, then another, then you swallowed greedily…
You fall to your knees when James’s wrist is wrenched away from your mouth, blue fire flashes at you from above, his smile so wide it’s all you can see,
“Now… let’s go see your ex.”
The blood James had given you was like nothing you could describe. You could see the dust motes floating in the air, even in the pitch black of the hotel hallway, rats scurrying around in the rain and filth outside was clear to your ears, and the scents of all the tenants permeated the air. You could feel everything, it was all so clear to you now, and for the first time in a long time, you could move without any level of pain.
It was exhilarating.
The blood in your veins pumped hotly through your body, you could feel the sensation for the first time in your life, the presence of James at your back made your skin sing in awareness… one taste of his blood and you were his.
First though, you had to end the life you’d had, and that started with John.
The sounds of pain were clear, even from the other end of the long hallway, it was a sound you recognised clearly. John had always liked his sex mixed with just a touch of agony, it was what made him hard, hurting you would get him off like nothing else. Unsurprisingly, your boyfriend was cheating on you, with a woman he knew, or a prostitute, it didn’t matter, it never would, not again. The grunts of ecstasy grew louder the closer you glided to the room, all the others were silent or wilfully ignorant. This was the type of establishment that rented rooms by the hour, after all, the clientele knew what type of people rented these dingy rooms. James took a deep breath at your back,
“I smell her blood in the air. Do not hold back, darling,”
You didn’t intend to.
The door frame cracked wide open as James hit it, wood splintering everywhere, almost drowning out the sounds of the screams coming from the bed directly opposite the door. You met the eyes of the terrified woman for one long second, before turning your gaze on John. Naked, brutal, powerful. The creature from your waking nightmares, holding another woman by the throat as he brutalised her as he constantly had done to you. There was shock in his eyes, certainly, but no fear. He just stared at you, blue eyes wide and lips peeled back in a snarl, still in the throes of sexual violence that he loved.
The wind howled, the world outside hushed, expecting, waiting…
“I heard you wanted to kill me?”
The words were barely whispered, an almost muscle memory keeping you from raising your voice to the man who hurt you as easily as most would swat a fly. John stared back at you, his grip loosening on the woman, but he didn’t let her go completely. His lips shone as he licked them, pearly white teeth flashing in the gloom,
“How did you know where I was, Y/N?”
It should’ve hurt, that he didn’t answer your question, that instead his response was asinine and unhelpful. The man who hated you enough to sacrifice you to the Legends was never going to be someone who would take any accountability. You didn’t answer the question, you just stared at him, even as he let the woman go. She grabbed her clothing and ran from the room, muffled sobs coming from her mouth. You spared her one glance over your shoulder, and that’s when you noticed the space behind you was empty.
James had gone. You were alone with-
John came at your back, what felt like his fist connecting painfully with the back of your head and sending you into the wall in front of you. The carpet was ugly as it raised up to meet your face, your fall bringing you to the ground on a grunt. The empty air mocks you as you search desperately for your saviour, but he’s gone, and all that’s left is John’s hands as he flips you to your back, his hands wrapping firmly over your throat and squeezing,
“I should’ve done this, it should be me, all those years with you, it should be me that takes you out,” black spots fill your vision as his grip tightens, you can feel John hard at your hip, and your nails scrabble pointlessly at his wrists, “it’s okay, I can finish the job now, and leave you where I planned. Thanks for the house and the memories, bitch,”
Your fingers aren’t drawing blood anymore, there’s almost no strength left in you… but that’s when you see it, under the small stand the tiny tv set sits on. A knife. It’s probably old, discarded by a previous tenant after eating, this place doesn’t give the impression that the cleaning is thorough. It doesn’t matter.
Your last strength is spent reaching… clawing… grabbing…
And stabbing.
Repeatedly.
Your breath comes in pants, your throat raw to the point of agony, your right arm aches like you’ve been lifting weights, and the room gleams a glistening red.
You’re painted scarlet and John no longer looks like a man. He’s a broken doll full of holes, oozing its crimson stuffing, glass eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Your fingers tighten on the knife before you drop it to the ground carelessly. It’s strange how small he looks now he’s still, his chest no longer heaving with anger, with violence, with a putrid desire that leaves you bleeding. You hear the chuckle leaving your mouth as you see his erection - tiny in death - slowly shrivel further as his blood leaves him in thick pools, staining the already stained carpet.
You hear them, the other people in the hotel, opening their doors a crack, staring through the peep holes, like all the others… they listen, they hear, they do not help. Your palm itches for the knife you just discarded, so you could kick in the doors to each and every one of these rooms and kill them too, make them know what it is to be scared as everyone around them does nothing to help-
“I knew it, my blood kissed Queen…” You spin to the doorway, the empty space filled once more. James takes all the oxygen in the room, the darkness gathering around him like he can call shadows to him. His blue eyes glow red as he takes in the carnage, the purest smile creasing his face, “you’re perfect, my darling, so deadly… so beautiful…”
It’s not dread that fills you as you back away, James stalking you towards the window, it’s not close enough to the depth of whatever emotion you feel inside. It’s a turbulent storm inside you, anger, fury, lust, despair, nausea, all of it chokes you. All of it heats your blood to a boiling point, all that blood calling to the creature that left you to be killed, his fangs pushing against his lower lip,
“You left me,”
“I never left you. I knew what you were capable of,” the voice of his, it dulled out every other sound around you, you didn’t even feel the coolness of the window at your back, “if he’d hurt you then I would’ve snapped his neck and taken you then and there,”
“But now?” Your voice is breathy, small, but it’s just you two in this shadowed corner, he listens with rapt attention,
“Now… you’re the one I waited for. You’re magnificent, and you’re mine,”
He descends on you then, his tongue tracing over your neck, lapping at the blood that covers you and licking into your mouth. Johns blood hits your tongue, its iron taste filling your mouth, lighting an inexplicable fire inside you. It could be the blood hunger that’s been growing since you tasted the Legends own fluid, you can’t think on it, not when James is kissing you like he would devour you, and not when the rain is suddenly pounding over you in a shock of cold sensation that snaps you out of your thoughts. You look up and notice you’re outside the hotel, in an alley not unlike the one he’d almost taken you in earlier. James’s chuckle fills your head,
“I’ll teach you every trick I know, my queen, but first-“ James holds the back of your neck firmly, looking into your eyes, and you still completely, “- ask me to take you, my darling,”
“Take me,”
There’s no fear, not when he calmly opens the buttons on your shirt and parts it. The rain doesn’t affect you, even when your skin is bared to the elements, James’s flesh cool against your own as he caresses your breasts, nipples pearled by the water, by his teasing touches,
“You’re beautiful, and this blood…” John’s blood is running down your neck, between your breasts, James’s grip tightens as he bends you back, dips his head and traces the blood and water from your neck down to the slick skin aching for something, “I need to taste you, darling,”
His bite at your chest is a pleasure laced agony, your cry fills the air, but you couldn’t tell if you wanted him to bite harder or stop all together. Your fingers weave through his hair, holding him, pulling and tugging… minutes or hours later, you didn’t know, he lifted his head, your own blood staining his lips and a beatific smile on his face,
“Your blood, it’s the purest tasting ecstasy I have ever known,”
“You don’t even know me…” your head is lax on your shoulders, your voice barely above a whisper, barely enough energy to even consider fighting as he lifts your skirt to your hips, lays you out across a bench like a meal.
Which, you suppose, you were.
“I knew what you were when I first laid eyes on you, darling,” your panties are sliced easily away, your legs spread and folds parted by cool fingers that caressed and soothed, “you’re beauty and passion and death. You’ll be the most perfect blood soaked Queen at my side,” you stare into the rain filled dark sky as his head dips, his tongue laps softly over your wet skin.
Then he bites your thigh, one long finger sliding it’s way inside you at the same time, and your orgasm punches through you, the scream swallowed by the thunder that cracks. James stays at your femoral artery for longer than he did at your breast, you no longer feel the rain by the time he lifts his head, blood a wet smear across his chin,
“Come, my queen, one last step, and you’ll be mine for eternity,”
He pulls you across his lap, parting your legs easily and making you straddle him. You’re like a rag doll, bones and muscles like rubber, but you take him inside you easily, body still eager for whatever blood magic he bestows on you.
You know you’re about to die, to be changed, but you’re not afraid. Not anymore.
He holds onto the cheeks of your ass as he makes you ride him, your hips doing what was needed from muscle memory alone. You feel another orgasm build up, and it’s you that tilts your head and gives him access to your jugular this time,
“Take me, James. Please.”
Blood red is the shade of his eyes, his fangs pearly white, his was an inhuman beauty and it was everything you ever wanted. This monster made you feel the safest and most cherished you had felt in years, even as he bit into you and took your life.
Hours… seconds…
James could kill you now, the realisation a distant thought, and not turn you. This could all be some game to him, just to get you half naked and on his cock whilst he took his fill. You’ll just be another dead girl for the cops to find in a compromising position, and no way to pin it on a Legend. The marks would be obvious but it would be like John all over again, nothing concrete, the human world leaving you to be just another victim again. The darkness grows around you, everything even more quiet than before, your heartbeat slowing down to almost nothing-
Blood hit your tongue in a wild burst, like ambrosia, like electricity. It was like a deep breath of air after holding it for too long, or a big gulp of water on a hot day. It was everything beautiful, sexual, full of life and beauty and energy, and you gulped it down eagerly. You weren’t weak and pliant in James’s arms anymore, you were strong, powerful, riding him at a gallop with a body that felt. When you open your eyes it was to a midnight that looked like noon. Every tiny speck of light lit the world around you, turning shadows into silver gold pools. Nothing could hide from you.
You throw your head back and away from James’s neck on a growl of pleasure, your final orgasm melding with his. His pleasure was yours, yours was his, and when you look into his red tinged blue eyes, it was to see the dark soul that matched yours. James grinned, his fangs still tinged pink with your blood,
“There you are…” he stood, taking you easily in his arms, the transition from carnal lust to a blood soaked desire quick, you felt it too, let him adjust both your clothing and kiss you deeply, before spinning you to face the hotel again, “the change needs to be maintained quickly, darling… shall we head out for dinner?”
You looked at him, your vampire king, the male who’d done as he promised and made you more. You felt the shift of the earth, the pull of the moon, the blaze of the sun. You could hear the planet around you from the worms to the creak of the glass skyscrapers. You weren’t weak anymore, would never be a victim again.
The people in the hotel would’ve let you die, however.
You take James’s hand, lick his blood from your lips, and grin a feral smile,
Tumblr users really see a cat biting another cat’s butt on an enamel pin and immediately think “yeah I need that on my bag.” Honestly… same. (GET YOURS HERE)
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