#scream mask

  “Well, we know how much of a nerd he is for horror movies,” Samira shrugs, leaning back on the counter next to you, taking a bite off her sandwich, talking with her mouth full, “But it’d be fun! We should drag everyone there.”

  “Absolutely! I wish we could somehow bring your man there too,” you elbow her gently, hiding your smile when she groans and stuffs her mouth full with another bite, “But you’re stuck with me and the rest of the day shift since he’s working.”

  “You’re talking like I don’t already tolerate you every single day,” she says after swallowing, wrapping the rest of her sandwich before she puts it in the fridge, following you outside to the Central. “Are you excited?”

  “Excited doesn’t even begin to explain how I feel,” you wink at her, resting your palms on the station, “I can’t wait to be a freak and annoy you as much as possible.”

  “Yes, well, you're a woman with a horrible crush on two masked men,” Samira rolls her eyes, noticing Robby walking around the floor with a tablet in his hands, “And on him as well.”

  “Okay, so one, it’s not that freaky to love a man with his ugly face hidden, and two, I don’t have a crush on him,” you reply to her, looking at her with a curious smile when she points at Robby standing against his station, “What?”

  “Nothing,” she shrugs innocently, mimicking your position by resting her weight on her elbows on the countertop of the station, “Just… I mean, come on! It’s obvious!”

  “No, we’re not gonna do that again, alright?” You hiss at her, glancing at Robby, finding him deeply focused on the computer in front of him, “Besides, I’m too excited about watching two hot men put on their masks. Do you wanna know one of my darkest fantasies ever?”

  “Absolutely fucking not, but I have a feeling you're gonna tell me anyway.”

  “Yup,” you nod, stepping closer to her so no one really hears what you are about to say, “I want my partner to recreate the first scene of the movie with me.”

  “Oh my god, you can’t be serious?” She gawks at you, shaking her head, running a hand down her face before she looks at you with defeated eyes, “Which scene exactly?”

  “The one at the beginning of the movie! Where he asks ‘Do you have a boyfriend?’ and she replies with ‘Do you wanna take me out on a date?’” 

  “You’re crazy,” Samira groans, dropping her head between her arms, “And then he chases you around with a knife. So very romantic.” 

  “You’re not freaky enough for my liking.” You take a tablet from the stand, trying to find a case that is worth investing in, “Not a knife though, just… breaking into my house, chasing me around, and fucking me until I can’t walk.”

  “Get out of my face, oh god,” she pushes you away gently, walking away from you with a shake of her head and an exhausted chuckle. “I’m gonna go and leave you alone with your obsession.”

  “Have fun saving lives!”

  ****

  Robby doesn’t want to listen, not at all. He isn’t meant to, he feels ashamed almost, but fucking hell, he is so glad he overheard you talking. He has never been this excited about anything; he feels as if his entire body is covered in glitter with club amplifiers on full volume inside his trunk.

  He’s been dreaming about you for a while now; about the way you smile, your laughter, your hands wrapping around your stethoscope, the way your eyes light up when a trauma rolls in. 

  Sometimes he lets his imagination wander, thinking about how pretty you would look if he pinned you against a wall somewhere, how your eyes would go wide if he wraps his fingers around your throat and squeezes your delicate neck until there isn’t a single thought in your head except for him.

  He wants to wreck you, break you even. But that is not gonna happen, or at least he used to think so. Now, with this newfound information, he could act on a few of his fantasies as well.

  “Hey,” he crosses the distance between the two of you as you walk out of a trauma room, sanitizing your hands while meeting him halfway. He smiles and hands you a tablet before leading you to a room.

  “Hey, boss,” you smile back sweetly, shying away from his very intense gaze — the one who is only reserved for you — and reading the lab results in front of you, “What’s up?”

  “Are you going to Shen’s thing this week?” He asks out of nowhere, stopping you before you have the chance to enter the room.

  He is not thinking clearly; he doesn’t even know why he asks that question, why he stops you. It’s none of his business if you go to Shen’s unique gathering; he shouldn’t care what you do, where you go, or who you go with. It shouldn’t matter, but it does, because the flame inside of him is growing every second just by remembering your words.

  “Of course! Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” You exclaim, grinning at him, “I love the movie! I don’t think I can ever miss watching it on a big screen. What about you?”

  “Uh, me? I don’t think so,” he shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck, already feeling his mask falling. Of course, he won’t be there, in that exact location, but he’ll be around, definitely. “I have to cover for Shen that night. Pulling a double so Jack won’t be lonely.”

  “That’s too bad,” you reply, pouting a little, “We’d thought you would be there, we were kinda hoping we could see you getting scared for the first time.”

  “I don’t get scared because of a movie like that,” he chuckles, looking at you with dark eyes, “I don’t think I’ve ever been scared of a movie, so you’re not losing anything.”

  “You can’t be serious!” You gawk at him, “Come on! There must be something you’ve watched that scared you!”

  “Nothing I can think of,” he shrugs, pushing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, smirking slightly, “I like these types of movies, they’re amusing to watch, especially if I can see others losing their shit over it.”

  “You like when others are terrified…” You bite your lip, and he can see how your eyes glimmer with something he can’t pinpoint yet, but it is oddly familiar as if he is experiencing one right now, “How odd.”

  “We all have our source of… entertainment, let's say.” Robby says, pushing the door open to the trauma room, “Now, go back to work. I’ll see you at rounds.”

  ****

  He didn’t mean to follow you, or so he says, to feel less guilty. The plan wasn’t to follow you to the cinema and watch you from the darkest corner while you bit your lip at the sight of the Ghost face killing people. It sure as hell didn’t contain following the movements of your hands as you clutched the armchairs and squeezed your thighs together.

  God, you looked so delicate and desirable.

  Robby didn’t mean to follow you out either, keeping close to not lose your track and far enough not to be exposed. You turned around to check a few times, sensing someone might be following you home. But you trusted your neighborhood, you knew nothing bad would happen.

  What he did mean to do was to snatch your keys out of your backpack earlier today, before you left for the cinema with the rest of your friends, hiding them in one of the pockets of his pants before he left the hospital after you did, making sure Jack covered up for him while he took care of his business.

  Now, standing in front of your door with a black t-shirt, baggy gray sweatpants, and the very famous Ghost mask in his hand, he toys with the keys in his hand. 

  He knows you’ve used the spare one you keep under a flower vase next to your door — you should be more careful when you mumble into the dark about how you’ve lost your key. What if someone else was following you? You’re lucky it’s him, Robby, your boss, and the man who would do anything for you.

  He remembers your words. The first scene of the movie starts with a call and a knife, and then the chase. You’ve wanted to make this happen; who is he to deny you this enjoyment any longer?

  He stands behind one of your windows with the mask on, phone in hand — with a new SIM so his contact won’t pop up and ruin his surprise — and Jack’s pocket knife clutched in one hand.

  He dials your number, watching as you pour some tea for yourself in the kitchen, frowning a little when you walk to the counter to look at your phone before rejecting the call.

  Robby calls you again, twirling the knife in his hand as he waits for you to pick up, cock straining the fabric of his sweats as he stares at your thighs out in the open with the smallest shorts he has ever seen covering your ass.

  “Hello?” You answer, putting the phone between your ear and shoulder as you open the fridge, pulling out the leftovers of last night to warm up and eat.

  “Hello, sweetheart.”

  He smirks when you make a face of disgust, putting the phone down after you have filled your plate, staring at the screen with a deep frown.

  “Who’s this?” 

  “No one important,” Robby replies, “Just wanna talk to you for a while.”

  “There are 900 other numbers for that,” you tell him, “Goodbye.”

  He chuckles and watches as you hang up and put the plate in the microwave, sipping on your tea while you wait for the food to heat up. And he takes his chance to call you again, this time is the last though.

  “What do you want?!” You hiss at the phone, “Go bother someone else!”

  “No, no, shh, don’t hang up on me, sweetheart.” he moves around the house to keep track of your movements, watching as you move to the living room with your food. “Come on, tell me your name.”

  “I rather not,” you scoff, shaking your head as you sit on the floor and stretch your legs under the table, “I wanna go eat now, see ya–”

  “You wanna see me?” He asks with an amused tone, slowly inching forward to the entrance of your house, pushing the key in as slowly and quietly as possible, “That’s cute, don’t you have a boyfriend?”

  “No, but I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

  “Okay then, tell me what’s your name?” He successfully closes the door without making any noise, catching you still sitting behind the coffee table.

  “Fine!” You tell him your name, standing up to reach for the remote of the TV, “Why did you wanna know my name?”

  “Because I wanna know who I’m looking at.”

  You freeze on the spot, turning around slowly to find him at your entrance, playing with the knife with one hand and the other dropping the phone on the ground. He reaches for the back of his shirt, pulling it off in one swift movement, making the mask move a little.

  Robby. It’s Robby. With a peek at his beard and his Star of David against his chest, you are now sure it’s him.

  “R-Ro–”

  “Run, sweetheart.”

  He can literally see how your eyes light up with excitement from this distance. If he were close enough, he could probably watch as your eyes darken completely, and adrenaline rushes through your veins in an instant.

  You bolt, taking a run upstairs before you hear his quick footsteps following you. You want to giggle with delight, but the way he is chasing you around your own house, with a knife no less, there is a part of you that is scared in the best way possible.

  You let out a shriek when he grabs your ankle on the last step, pulling you down a little so he can lean over your back. But you’re faster, and a bit more determined to get away for the fun of it. So with a firm kick — gentle enough not to hurt — you push him away, and he drops the knife on the ground.

  Running towards your room, you are lucky enough to reach the door before he gets up and follows you. Despite his age, Robby bursts through the door in a blink of an eye, panting behind the mask as he slowly backs you up against the bed.

  Everything is a blur as he rounds the bed in a second, making you jump on the bed to run away from him, but he is so sharp and sees right through you. He grabs you by your calf, making sure you land face-first on the bed before he drags you to him.

  You try to push him away, kicking your feet mindlessly, finally a giggle slipping past your lips when Robby groans and grabs the back of your neck, squishing your face into your mattress as he takes his rightful place between your spread legs.

  He pushes his crotch against the very wet patch in your shorts, resting the pudge of his tummy in the dip of your back while you still try to keep up a fight. 

  Robby has you pinned beneath his weight, grabbing both of your wrists roughly before he holds them locked above your head, grinding his bulge against your crotch, groaning behind the mask as he holds you down with all his power.

  There will be bruises on your body by the time he is done with you. He knows you know that, and it only spurs him on when he sees how putty you become in his hold, arching your back and moving your hips to get an ounce of friction as best as possible.

  “Don’t fucking move,” he tangles his fingers in your hair, pressing down his weight on you completely, smirking when he hears your moan muffled by the mattress. “I’m gonna fuck you first, then I’ll think of what I have to do to you after.”

  He frees himself from his sweats, his cock bobbing in arousal as he grabs it by the base after he’s let go of your hair, stroking himself a few times. 

  He pushes your shorts to the side, tutting at the sight of your soaked pussy winking at him. “So wet, sweetheart. Thought you were scared of me, running around like that. You’re such a fucking slut.”

  You turn your head to the side, resting your cheek on the bed as you wait for him to fuck you, nodding mindlessly at the sound of him degrading you. 

  You look so, so hot right now; hair a mess, eyes glassy with lust, and a pretty cunt just for him to fuck. 

  He guides the tip of his dick to your hole, slowly breaching your walls with his cockhead before he holds onto your hips, feeling as you suck him in greedily. He slams the rest of his length inside you with abandon, clutching your hips with both hands and straightening his back.

  He starts fucking you without sparing you a single thought. He wants you, so he takes what he wants. His balls slap against your clit, making you moan loudly and claw at the sheets on your bed.

  You look so pretty with tears stinging your eyes and how desperately you try to meet his thrusts, but he is going too fast, too roughly for you to keep up. He likes how you no longer keep fighting and letting the pleasure consume you entirely.

  “Fuck,” he groans when you tighten around him, squeezing your walls and crying out his name without caring about neighbors, “So fucking tight, sweetheart. Why were you hiding this pussy from me for so long?”

  You can’t answer, not when he is driving inside you so deliciously, hitting your sweet spot rapidly while groaning behind the mask, holding you down with his hands and hips.

  “Ughhh,” you bite the sheets when you feel the warmth in your lower belly tightening, shifting into a knot while Robby brings you closer to the brink of your orgasm, “Oh, fuuuck–”

  “Yeah, there you go,” Robby chuckles, digging his nails in your hips as he fucks you carelessly, making sure your clit is rubbing against the edge of your bed, “Come for me, sweetheart. Let me see how much of a fucking freak you are.”

  You come hard; it’s mind-shattering, vision going white almost instantly with your eyes rolling to the back of your skull, and your nails nearly tearing through the layers of the silk bedsheets.

  He doesn’t slow down, he doesn’t want to, so instead, he fucks you through your climax until you are trying to kick him off you and flee from his hold. With a deep sigh, he pulls out of you, flipping you on your back before he crawls on top of the bed as well.

  You try to slap his chest and push him away, an act he notices as soon as he sees the stupid grin on your face. He smiles back behind the mask and grabs your wrist once again, pushing them above your head before he maneuvers your body until he’s got your ankles on his shoulders with his cock nudging between your folds.

  “I hate you–” you bite your lip, bracing yourself for him to slam himself inside you.

  “Mutual feelings, sweetheart,” he leans down, pressing your knees almost to your chest with his body before he rams his cock into you in one swift thrust, watching in awe as your lips part in a loud moan. “There you go,” he chuckles, “fucking take it.”

  You do just that, with your hands held above your head and your legs shaking around Robby’s neck with overstimulation, but you keep moaning for him, crying out his name as he hits your cervix over and over, feeling his cock twitching deep inside you.

  “Gonna come, fuuuuuck– gonna come inside you, sweetheart.”

  “Nooooo,” oh, you are good, “No, please, please, not inside!” You cry out, but the second you can, you wrap your arms around his body to keep him locked against you.

  He looks so good right now; sweaty chest, tummy holding you down, and the mask… fuck, the mask looks so hot on him, covering his face and neck with his golden chain swaying with each thrust. The noises he makes behind the plastic come out from the depths of his chest, and it makes goosebumps rise on your skin.

  “Oh, but I will.” He grunts, slamming his cock deeply inside your walls, sweat dripping from his body on yours, “That’s why you should never tell a stranger about where you keep your keys. Good thing it was me who broke in, huh?”

  You try to talk, say something in response, but the moment you feel him twitching inside you, then getting filled to the brim with his hot cum is enough to keep your mouth shut. 

  You watch as Robby drops his weight on your entirely, shallowly fucking you through his orgasm as he gives you one of the biggest loads he has ever had, coming inside you just as he has promised.

  He is conscious enough to free your legs from his shoulders and then rest on top of you, breathing deeply when you pull off the mask and find him blushing and sweating.

  “Hey,” you say, threading your fingers through his hair, “That was unexpected.”

  “I didn’t push you too much, did I?” He asks, frowning a little as he cranes his neck to look you in the eye. “Please tell me I didn’t.”

“There’s my girl and that big college brain of hers.” Bucky smiled, gently rubbing your calves. All of you, seniors at the University in town, living together in a large rented home in the middle of nowhere. Rent was cheap, it was only 20 minutes from campus, and it was large enough to house all your friends and host whatever parties the boys were hell bent on throwing.

What began as a normal final year of university was slowly turning into something straight out of a horror film. It started three months ago. Carol Danvers, a medical student, was found slashed in her sorority house in late August. Her roommate reported seeing a man in a black cloak with a gimmicky ghost-like mask on, gliding through the halls. The police came up with nothing. Weeks later, four more women were found brutally murdered, each time their throats slit with over 30 stab wounds. The moniker “ghost-face” was coined, and quickly the killer became an infamous household name.

Now, here it was October, with Halloween approaching, and the murders only becoming more frequent. The death toll was up to 14 women, all college-aged girls of various backgrounds. Seemingly, no correlation besides all having attended your school. Safe to say everyone on campus and in town was on edge with a serial killer on the loose. Police departments were swamped with calls every day, neighbors accusing each other, and the tensions were high. Everyone lived in fear of becoming another brutal killing just to be printed in tomorrow's paper.

Each night, the boys made a pact to scope the house out before they all went to sleep. Sam closed the gates and checked the yard. Steve scoped out the first floor and Bucky the second. Yelena bought an alarm for the doors and multiple military-grade locks, which she refused to tell us where she purchased. Natasha had a gun upstairs in her nightstand, refusing to let any of the boys know she had it. Not even her boyfriend Steve. She pulled you into her room one night with the pistol hidden in a hollowed-out bible, demanding you tell no one else in the house. You laughed it off until her face turned serious. She had a paranoid streak, but who wouldn’t in a time like this? Most days, Natasha swore you were the only person she could trust with her life.

The couple sauntered back into the living room from the kitchen, popcorn bowls in hand. “Are we doing movie night or what?” Steve laughed, throwing out the bowls, popcorn flying. He plopped himself down on the ottoman, content to rummage through the DVD stack.

“What’s your favorite scary movie, Y/n?” Bucky asked, looking over at you with his baby blue eyes wide. You answered him with an eye roll, shoving his shoulder. He knew you hated horror movies, never wasting an opportunity to tease you about it.

“Fuck off. I just don’t like cheesy jumpscares.”

“Hey, I second that.” Kate cheered, going on a tangent about how we need to watch more rom-coms. An argument quickly breaks out amongst your group of friends over movie genres, as it did most nights.. Your eyes were still locked with Bucky’s, nothing but love simmering in your chest every time you gazed at him.

“Hey, don’t worry, baby. I’ll protect you from all the scary monsters.” He promised, pulling your legs to settle you on his lap.

“Oh yeah? My big, strong man.” You giggled, pressing your lips to his harshly, drowning out the groans of your friends. Ignoring getting hit with handfuls of popcorn that you’re almost certain Sam threw at you two.

Pulling away from your kiss briefly, Bucky rolled his eyes, “If you guys picked a movie, I wouldn’t have to entertain myself.”

“At least take it to your room.” Steve shrieked, nearly covering his eyes with his pillow. Shrill laughter echoed through your home.

“Okay. Fine. Fine. Put in the movie Rogers.” Defeated, you gave Bucky one last kiss before rolling off his lap, curling up next to him while some random movie began to play on the TV. You felt like the happiest girl in the world in your bubble. Your longtime boyfriend, who would do anything for you, holding you, your friends safe, gathered around, in this beautiful house you shared. Here, it was just love and safety, no need to worry about masked killers and vigilantes. You just had no idea it was all beginning to fall apart.

It was only a few days later that the killer struck again. Like clockwork, you were side by side with your scared peers, mourning yet another classmate.

“I heard she fought back. Apparently, she got a few cuts in with her keys before she died.” The morbid whispers through the crowd of yet another candlelight vigil. This time, she was found in the local park after going for a late-night run. It was unfortunately becoming a pattern for the town: the shock of finding a victim, the mourning, then forgetting once a new one was found. It was heartbreaking living in fear for months, unsure of who’d be next. You feared that if it continued, soon everyone would be desensitized to the horrors.

“We can’t keep living like this.” You muttered under your breath as your arm was looped between Wanda’s, the only friend you had that refused to live in what she called the ‘party’ house. She’d been your friend from the moment you met freshman year, both of you majoring in Criminology.

“My parents want Pietro and me to move. Hell, Pietro barely lets me out of the house,” She let out a dry laugh, leaning against your shoulder, “I mean, what are the police even doing? How long until it’s one of us?”

Your back straightened, looking sternly at her. “Don’t ever say that. Nothing bad’s gonna happen to us.”

“And the almost 20 girls? Do you think they thought the same thing?”

You couldn’t muster up a response to that, simply holding her close to you. Praying this reign of terror ends soon.

In attempts to feel some normalcy, you insisted that Wanda and her brother come over for you all to host them for dinner. The boys grilling outside on the cool fall night, while you and the girls sipped martinis and waltzed around the living room together. Kate Bush blaring through the record player, your hips swaying to the beat. Bucky lingered at the back door, his eyes glued on you.

“No free show, Barnes.” Wanda laughed, looping her arms in yours, spinning you around.

“Shouldn’t you be cooking?” You laughed, watching your boyfriend’s eyes sparkle at you.

He only leaned against the door pane, smirk wide on his face. “And miss the show? Come on.”

A blush crept up on your cheeks, unraveling yourself from Wanda’s body as she whined. “Sam wanted me to tell you it’s almost done if you girls wanted to set the table.”

Sam appeared next to him, pushing Bucky out of the way, a tray in his hand. “Yeah, make yourselves useful. We’ve been slaving away out there.”

“He says that like he’d let any of us touch that grill.” Yelena sighed, leaning further back into the couch where she and Kate sat.

“I’ll take a little berating for one of his burgers. Not much, but a little.” Natasha pointed out as she helped settle everything together. It wasn’t long before the table was set, and fresh drinks were made. The dinner went by smoothly, almost without incident. Bucky’s arm was slung around your chair that he’d already pulled as close to his as possible. Your legs are brushing against each other.

“So I have a proposition,” Steve cleared his throat, “The boys and I have talked. We’re still doing the annual Halloween party this year.”

The silence that fell over the group was deafening. Everyone took turns to look at each other warily, daring each other to speak first. All you could do was turn, glaring at Bucky. He knew just how freaked out you all were; you assumed wrong that everyone was in a silent agreement that it wouldn't happen.

Natasha’s eyebrow twitched, glaring at her boyfriend much like you were. “With just us. Right?”

“Us and our friends. And our friend’s friends. Everyone would be vetted. We’d be checking everyone at the door.” Steve nervously stumbled on the words.

“We promise it’ll be the safest event in the state.” Sam smiled, sweet, oblivious Sam.

“You say that because it doesn’t affect you,” Kate started, her face scrunched, “If it were men getting murdered, maybe you’d be more understanding. You can’t be serious?”

“Hey, don’t be like that-” Sam started before Bucky cut him off abruptly.

“Are you implying we’re okay with the risk of you guys getting killed?” He let out a dry laugh, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “If anything happened to any of you, we would be gutted-”

“Oh, really?” Wanda let out a cackle, causing your head to ache. Wanda and Bucky never got along, despite your multiple attempts. What started as a playful rivalry had turned sour in recent weeks.

“Guys.” You spoke softly, waving your hand up in surrender. “No one wants anyone to die. We all love each other. That being said, do you guys really think this is a good idea?”

“We’ve had fun tonight, haven't we?” Sam sighed, “We just want to feel normal again, everyone does. I think this will help. Just one night to let loose before Midterms.”

“I hate it, but he does have a point, babe,” Yelena spoke, which clearly was the wrong thing to say when she immediately pulled her chair out from the table.

Kate’s face was red in frustration, “You are all so selfish. I’m not risking my safety to get drunk in this glorified party house. My friends are dead. Slashed to pieces, and the killer is still out there. I’m not letting you bring them into our home.”

“If the killer wanted to get in, they would have already,” Steve spoke, Bucky shooting him a deadly glare from across the table. Steve seemed to have gotten the message, holding his hands up in surrender.

All Kate could do was glare at him before she stomped up the stairs to her room, slamming the door shut.

“I don’t agree or disagree,” Yelena sighed, standing up, “But Steve, if you ever say something like that to her again, I will kill you. I don’t care that you’re fucking my sister.”

“Understood,” Steve mumbled, turning away when Yelena followed up the stairs. Another minute of awkward silence before Wanda stood up, Pietro following. The table was clearing out faster with each moment that passed.

“I appreciate dinner, but I think we’re going to head out.” Wanda smiled at you. You quickly stood to see them out, Bucky doing all he could to repress his eyeroll when you hugged Pietro goodbye. Sauntering back over to the table, you glared at the four housemates remaining.

“We couldn’t even have a civil dinner? Really, guys?” You sighed, rubbing your eyes. “Steve, have fun cleaning all this up.”

Before he could even protest, Bucky stood up, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Everything will be fine. Everyone just needs a moment to calm down..” He promised.

“You better hope so, Barnes,” Natasha spoke up, her eyes locked onto his. A glint in them not unsimilar to the one Wanda just sent him. It was unspoken that Bucky was a bad influence on Steve, had been all his life. It was only when you and Bucky got together did everyone had hopes he was finally settling down. You had no doubt Bucky was behind Steve’s sudden change of mind.

“It will be, I promise.” He gave her a toothy grin.

It wasn’t much longer before you all headed to bed, both you and Bucky eventually caving and helping Steve clean up from dinner. As much as he irritated you sometimes, he was still like your brother; all he had to do was flash those baby blues, and you were hopeless. The boys were still hellbent on throwing this party, swearing that once everyone calmed down and listened to their plan, everything would be fine. You held them to that, content on forgetting it at the moment.

The moment your bedroom door closed, Bucky was latched onto you. It wasn’t much later that you were both naked, you sitting on top of his cock, riding him to forget how shitty the night had ended.

“I love you so much.” Bucky groaned, looking up at you, your hips sinking repeatedly on his. Your hair was thrown back wildly as you watched his abs clench at each movement you made. Running your hands up and down his skin. “Feel so good.”

His moans fell on deaf ears when your hand brushed against a scar on his side. His eyes were shut, his hips still bucking wildly up into yours when you decided to lean over. A set of small jagged scars was there, like he ran into something sharp or caught his hip on a nail. They couldn’t have been more than a few days old.

The discovery was quickly forgotten when he gripped your hips, flipping you over with ease. No longer allowing you control as he pounded into you. Every ounce of curiosity slipped out of your head the moment he gripped your throat, making you come so hard you forgot his name.

That night, you caught yourself staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Listening to the sounds of Bucky’s labored breaths beside you. How did you all end up here? It felt like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. Suddenly, the bed shifted, your eyes squeezing shut to feign sleep. The bed dipped, Bucky rolling off the bed with little to no noise. You waited to hear the bathroom door creak open, but instead, you were met with silence.

His bedside table drawer opened slowly, a metallic clanging noise causing you to grit your teeth. He shuffled around some more before your bedroom door opened and shut within seconds. Once it was clear he was out of the room, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Eyes squinting in the dark, where was he going this late? \

Your bare feet hit the cold floor, padding over to the window, expecting to see him outside smoking behind your back, or even taking a phone call. Instead, Steve’s car was pulling out of the driveway, with no headlights on. It made your stomach turn. Before you knew it, you were slipping on a hoodie and your slippers, making it down the stairs in record time. By the time you got to the front door, a rustle in the kitchen made you jump.

“What the fuck?” Your hand clutched your chest, Steve standing in front of the sink with a cup, only able to see his silhouette illuminated by the plug-in nightlight Kate insisted we have in each room.

“Thirsty.” He whispered, showing an empty cup. “Where are you going?”

“Where did Bucky go in your car?” You asked, adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

“Went to the store to get a pack of cigarettes. Told me not to tell you,” You could see his toothy grin. “Took my car because I was blocking him in.”

That was a reasonable explanation, but you couldn’t shake the feeling stirring in your gut. When did Bucky talk to Steve? Why was Steve wearing shoes in the middle of the night in the kitchen?

“You okay, sis?” The nickname he only used in times of crisis rolled off his tongue; your face must have shown everything you didn’t say.

“Just weird is all,” You raised an eyebrow, “You’d tell me if Bucky was doing anything he wasn’t supposed to, right?”

“I’d never let him fall off the wagon like that again. Trust me. It’s just a cigarette, he’s been wound up. It’s better than the hard stuff, you know?” Steve promised.

When Bucky was 17, he got into an accident that scarred up his arm horribly. His nerve damage was so severe that he ended up falling into an addiction with pain pills or anything that would dull his pain. It was something you’ve been helping him with since the two of you got together.

“I know Steve.” You willed yourself to believe him, believe the words you were speaking.

Bucky’s behavior only worsened from that night forward. He was coming home late under the guise of school projects, work running late, or stumbling over lame excuses like traffic. You were wary of him, anxiety bubbling in your chest every time you sat in your shared room, staring at the clock. On movie nights, he’d hold you close, but push you away each time your hand went to travel underneath his shirt.

It was something that hadn’t happened in all the years you two have been together. Each time you asked him, he assured you he was just tired or stressed. He made sure you knew everything was okay, but this nagging feeling settled deep into your stomach that you were unable to shake.

Humming along to your headphones, you sauntered around your shared room, throwing clothes into your hamper. You dreaded housework, but knew you wouldn’t want to clean at all over the weekend with the party. The post-party clean-up was already exhausting you, and it hadn’t even happened yet. Leaning down underneath your bed, you pulled what you thought was another one of Bucky’s jackets, which he always half-heartedly throws on the floor. However, once you pulled the black fabric out, it kept coming; a long black cloak was shoved in between your mattress and bedframe.

“What the fuck?” You grumbled to yourself, laying it out on the bed. He hadn’t mentioned anything about a Halloween costume, but why would it be there? Dropping to your knees, you crawled underneath, shuffling around the various boxes of yours before you spotted a small drawstring bag. Not one you recognized. As soon as your hand grazed the bag, the bedroom door swung open. Jumping up in fear, you hit your head on the frame.

“Fuck.” You groaned, cradling the back of your head.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Bucky rushed in, dropping to his knees with you. “What were you doing?”

“Cleaning.” You sighed, head immediately pounding.

“We need to get you some ice.” He was frantic, checking over your head like you were gushing blood everywhere.

Brushing him off, you stood up, “What is this?” You asked, pointing to where the black cloak was lying against the bed. Ignoring the throbbing of your head.

There was an awkward pause of silence before he let out a dry laugh, “Oh, this thing? It’s for Halloween. I know you don’t wanna dress up, but the guys would kill me. I got it from a friend, so it needs to be washed. I probably just threw it somewhere. I’m sorry, baby.”

The answer didn’t feel right to you, and you had a feeling that if you asked about the bag, you would get a reasonable explanation, but your brain didn’t wanna take that. From the late nights out, his phone being off at weird times, his refusing to touch you, and just his overall weird behavior the past few weeks, you couldn’t take it anymore. All the sleepless nights imagining Bucky was out there touching another woman, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“What’s her name?” You asked dryly, brushing the hair out of your face.

“What?” He let out another forced laugh, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What’s her fucking name, Bucky?”

“Whose name?” He asked, throwing his hands up,

“The name of the bitch you’ve been sneaking around with.”

“Y/n, what are you talking about?” His eyes were wide. “How hard did you hit your head?”

“You’ve been so fucking weird lately,” You gasped out, adrenaline making your fingers shake, “The sneaking around, the lying, coming back and smelling like perfume, and now this ‘friend’ letting you borrow a fucking cloak? Don’t act fucking stupid.”

He let out a breath, his hands coming up to his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. There’s no one else. I haven’t lied to you. Y/n I don’t want anyone else-”

“You don’t even want me!” You cried, everything tumbling out of you at this moment. “You won’t touch me. You don’t even take your shirt off around me anymore. I’m not stupid. If you’re not getting attention from me, you’re getting it elsewhere. I know you-”

“Well, clearly you don’t know if you would accuse me of cheating on you.” He spat the words out, anger lacing his features. “What’s next? Do you want to drug test me?”

“See, you’re not even bothering to comfort the woman you apparently love. You’re too busy getting mad at me-”

“Shut up.” He yelled, shocking you into taking a few steps back. Bucky had never raised his voice at you like that. He looked just as shocked by his actions as you had, trying to step forward, but all you did was take another step back away from him.

“Y/n..” He whispered, his features softening in realization. “Y/n, I’m so sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to. I’m not cheating on you, fuck I’d never do that. I love you. I’ve just been stressed, that’s all.”

“Then talk to me about it. Not hiding from me.” You cried, “Is it this stupid party? Why are you letting it stress you out too much?”

“Because I want it to be good! I want us to have fun and feel normal again.” He took another step closer, and you stayed still this time. “I’m just trying to make sure we’re all safe. Steve and I have been talking to security on campus, and we even talked to the police about having a car in the area the night of the party. I don’t know why I smelled like perfume; it could have been anyone in class or even a laundry mix-up downstairs. You know Kate loves those horrible fabric sheets. I’m not cheating on you, Y/n. God no, I love you.” ”

“Why not just say that?” You let out a breath, pressing your palms to your eyes. “God, Bucky, I feel like I’m going crazy. All the killings and you being out late.”

“What? Did you think I was the masked killer?” He let out a light-hearted laugh, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You never correlated the two; your brain couldn't fathom connecting the two. Until now.

“Why would you even say that?” Your voice was clipped, staring at him as he sighed.

“I’m just joking, fuck, I’m sorry I can’t say anything,” He grabbed your shoulders, “I’m just trying to make you feel better, and I keep fucking everything up. Please forgive me. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”

When you looked into his eyes, the same eyes you looked into every night, things just felt different. There was that nagging feeling again in your stomach, making you feel queasy.

“It’s okay,” You managed to get out, leaning your forehead against his, “Please don’t hide anything from me. I love you so much.”

He nodded, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I promise. I promise, baby. Everything is going to go perfectly.”

Perfectly, it did not. The killings had halted the days leading up to the party. What should have been a weight off everyone's shoulders ended up just making tensions in the house high again. By the time you all convinced Kate to stay home, she was immediately swayed again. Convinced the killer was waiting for the party to strike next. She refused to elaborate on why, just a gut feeling.

Your own gut felt the same, pushed down by Bucky’s constant reassurance.

“This just feels very irresponsible to do,” Kate spoke up from the doorway, probably for the hundredth time that night already. She was only saying what everyone else was too scared to.

Dropping the spiderwebs you were stringing across the staircase, you just sighed, “Guys, I really do think she’s right.” You’ve had a bad feeling ever since Sam sent out the invite to half the school, letting them know the annual Halloween party was still in full swing. Even when everyone agreed, it was starting to feel real.

A chorus of groans echoed through the house, “It would be fine with just us, but all of these people? I mean, come on, we could be letting the killer inside. That’s probably exactly what he wants.”

“Listen, we’re checking everyone at the door! We’re taking all the safest measures.” Steve said, from where he and Natasha descended from the basement, carrying more boxes of decorations in his hands. “We’ve talked about this, guys.”

“That hasn’t stopped him yet,” Natasha added, sending you a soft smile, “If Y/n’s out, I am too.”

“Well, I’m not gonna ruin everyone's night.” A groan left your mouth, picking back up the webs. You could feel Bucky’s presence behind you, handing you pieces of tape to finish.

“I love you guys,” Kate spoke up again, her girlfriend trying to coax her into calming down. “But I will not be here to watch something bad happen to you all. I can’t. I just hope you listen to me.” Her eyes were welling up in tears. She snatched her hand from Yelena’s, grabbed her keys, and rushed out the door.

You tried to side-step, grabbing her shoulder before she left. “Kate-”

“You need to be careful, Y/n.” She whispered, her eyes glancing behind you to where Bucky was standing. An uncomfortable silence washed over the room when she slammed the door behind her. Yelena mumbling a string of Russian curses at us.

That feeling was back in the pit of your stomach, growing even larger. Why did she make a point to look at Bucky while telling you to be careful? His hand dropped on your shoulder, your body flinching on instinct. When you looked back at him, you had to let out a shaky breath; it was just Bucky. Those same soft blue eyes stare down at you.

“She’s just freaked out. Don’t take it to heart.” He spoke, letting his lips brush your forehead. “We’re gonna be fine. We’re gonna be more than fine, actually. It’s gonna be the best night of the year.”

At his words, Steve let out a cheer, and Sam joined in.

‘Boys will be boys,’ Natasha mouthed to you, rolling her eyes at the trio.

The day of the party crept in faster than expected, Kate ultimately decided to go stay with her uncle, and Yelena went with her out of support. The morning you all but begged Bucky to change his mind, but he swore to you that the boys made sure nothing would go wrong. Still, the feeling never left. Even while you were doing your makeup, while Sam let the first guests in, music faintly coming up from the ground floor, the feeling never went away. A dreadful ache of something bad to come.

“Are you still moping?” Natasha’s voice came from behind you, making you jump nearly feet into the air.

“Don’t do that.” You shrieked, leaning against the bathroom counter.

“I’m sorry!” She pouted, sprawling across your bed. She was dressed in a slutty nurse's outfit, Steve’s pick, no doubt. Her red hair bounced with each turn of her head. “Are you not dressing up?”

You looked down at your jeans and Halloween sweater, shaking your head. You weren’t going to tell her you didn’t want to be caught in a slutty dress if tonight turned into a slasher movie, you settled on, “I’m just not feeling the best. But I’m putting glitter in my hair. That should count.”

Her eyes softened, the mood turning serious. “Honey, are you okay?”

Launching yourself off the counter, you plop down next to her, shaking your head. “Tasha, I have such a bad feeling. I can’t shake it. And Bucky-”

“What about him?”

“He’s just been distant? We had a weird fight the other night, and everything just feels off.” You admitted, leaving out the part where you were pretty sure he was either cheating on you or somehow was the masked killer wreaking havoc on your town.

“Men are stupid and complicated, but I do know he loves you. More than anything. It’s kind of disgusting, but Steve talks all the time about how Buck’s different around you.” She smiled, “Also, our peers are being hunted. Everyone feels off. Tonight's supposed to be just a slice of normalcy for us. You don’t have to get drunk or anything, but come down. Yelena ditched me, so I need someone to dance with me.”

You laced your fingers with hers, “Oh, so I’m just the backup since your sister ditched? Way to make your best friend feel special.”

“Oh, shush.” Her laughter brought a smile to your face, letting her roll you off the bed.

The two of you walked downstairs hand in hand, she pulling you straight into the kitchen for a drink. Once armed with a solo cup full of horrible-tasting punch, you let your shoulders drop a little. It wasn’t overly packed; you recognized almost everyone here. There was a strict no mask policy for costumes, so you could spot everyone’s face, just in case.

“See, not so bad.” She smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek before dragging you into the living room. The boys are still seeing people in at the door, like overdressed security guards. You hadn’t seen Bucky since earlier, letting the boys pregame and get dressed amongst themselves.

“Wanda! Pietro!” You cheered, seeing the twins enter the front door, Wanda running towards you with open arms.

“My favorite little witch.” Natasha smiled as she twirled around, showing off her witch costume, complete with a tiny broom.

“Loving the slutty nurse. Steve’s gonna have way too much fun with that,” Wanda laughed, hugging you both tightly. “Y/n, I’m loving the Freddy Kruger vibe you have going on.”

“I had to talk her out of pajamas,” Natasha added, causing your eyes to roll.

“We have much to talk about before the boys steal you.” Wanda sighed. The three of you found a spot on the couch. Sipping on punch and talking about school gossip. Maybe Natasha was right; this night of normalcy was needed. You were laughing harder than you’ve laughed in weeks, the punch making you feel warm and fuzzy. The music was blaring, and the multicolored lights that took hours to string up danced on the walls.

“My girls.” Steve appeared out of nowhere, his Doctor coat already stained with beer splatter, no doubt from the boys shotgunning way too many beers outside.

“Steve, your girlfriend is too hot for you.” Wanda sighed, leaning her head against Nat’s shoulder.

“Oh, trust he knows.” You laughed, feeling a warm breath on your neck.

“And my girlfriend is way out of my league,” Bucky spoke, pressing his cheap fangs into your skin gently. All you could do was laugh, leaning up to see your boyfriend's costume. The first thing you noticed was that the cloak you had found underneath the bed that night was not the cape he was wearing tonight. The cheap party city cape and fangs were clearly a last-minute purchase. There, that feeling was again, warning bells going off in your mind.

You pushed it away; it was just your anxiety, like he said. You were just finding reasons to freak yourself out. “Love the vampire moment, baby.”

“All for you, my love.” His voice jumbled from the plastic fangs, causing a laugh from the group.

“Oh man. We need to go before they start fucking on the couch.” Sam spoke up, his Superman costume clinging to his body in a way that had all of us rolling in laughter. The spandex is a little too small for the broad man.

“Okay, Mr. Spandex.” Bucky glared at him.

“You laugh now, but wait until you’re complaining about all the women screaming in the throes of pleasure tonight, roomies.” He said stoically, walking away

The group all back together made your heart feel full. Bucky plopped down next to you on the couch, your best friends all around. Steve brought us all shots, forcing us into a drinking game none of us agreed to. In the haze of having fun, you hadn’t realized just how much the alcohol was affecting you until the warmth of Bucky’s body against yours had you distracted. His hand was heavy on your thigh, so close but so far to where you ached for him.

“What if we got out of here?” You whispered in his ear while the group was too focused on Pietro’s stories from the fraternity house.

“You wanna leave?” He whispered back, a little oblivious to what you were asking. You nodded but leaned closer, pressing soft, lingering kisses to his ear. “Upstairs.”

He wasted zero time, grabbing your hand and dragging you upstairs with him, ignoring the cheers and whistles from your friends and other partygoers. He patted Steve on the back on his walk through, thinking nothing of it. As soon as you were out of view from others, his lips attached to yours, never leaving until he was pushing you against the bed. Your hands were pulling at his flimsy cape, ripping it off his shoulders. His hands were under your sweater, mouth open against yours.

“I missed you, baby.” He mumbled, finally caving and pulling your sweater off, your hands reaching down to unbuckle his belt. Clothes flying around the room, there was no time to waste. You hadn’t had him in weeks, and it felt like you were going to die if he waited a moment longer.

“I need you. Been so fucking long.” You grumbled, his hand slipping into your underwear, hissing at just how wet you already were for him.

“I know. I’m sorry I neglected you.” He cooed, his fingers pushing against your entrance, stretching you open. Your head lolled back against the pillow, panting against his skin. “I’m gonna give you exactly what you need.”

He curled his fingers deep inside you, coaxing out your wetness. His palm brushes against your clit harshly, causing a string of expletives to leave your mouth. You were putty in his hands, pleading and begging.

“Bucky.” You whined, trying to pull his boxers off. He pushed you back again, letting his fingers slip out of you.

“I won’t make you wait anymore.” He promised, shedding his boxers, his hard cock slapping against his abdomen. The tip leaking in precum, your mouth watering at the sight.

“Oh fuck-” You couldn’t stop the moan that tore from your throat when he pulled your body to the side of the bed, slipping his cock into your entrance quickly. Your body accepts the stretch greedily, a familiar comfort. He was so deep at this angle, his hand grabbing your legs, spreading them wide. He stood with his knees against the bed, slowly rocking his hips in and out.

“God, this pussy.” He grunted; you could barely hear him. The music downstairs is getting louder with each of his thrusts. Between the sound of the bed frame rocking, your own moans, and the music, his grunts fell on deaf ears.

“Needed this.” You whined when his thumb came to rub blunt circles on your clit, determined to bring you closer and closer.

“This is what you needed, huh? My little whore.” Bucky grunted; his hands had a bruising grip on your hips. His movements were so fast that they were knocking the air out of your lungs each time his hips slapped yours. “Gonna cum for me?”

All you could do was nod frantically, ripping the bedsheets in your hands while your cunt spasmed around him.

“Cum inside me.” You begged, nearing the verge of tears at the overstimulation. “I need you to fill me up.” He fucked you through your begging, his own orgasm triggered by you squeezing around him. He came with a deep groan of your name, his load hitting deep inside you. The feeling causes another moan to escape you, his body falling gently on top of you.

“Holy fuck.” You giggled to him, pressing a kiss to his lips. The two of you had plenty of quickies, but none of them as intense as that.

“I love you.” He whispered against your chest, still not quite meeting your eyes.

“I love you more.” You blissfully whispered, wincing when he pulled out of you. One of his fingers came down to swipe at your entrance, pushing his cum further inside you.

“Now you have something to remember me all night.” He cheesed, helping you get dressed.

“You’re such a boy.” You laughed, smoothing your hair once your clothes were tossed back on.

“Hey, you were the one begging-” His teasing was cut off by a blood-curdling scream coming from downstairs. Your heart fell into your stomach, hoping someone just got jumpscared or broke a vase. You were ready to make a light-hearted joke before another scream and a large thud accompanied it. Wasting no time, you slid your shoes on, barreling out of your room. Leaving Bucky behind, while he still rushed to get redressed. Nearly stumbling down the stairs, you watched a horde of people rushing out the front door, scanning the room for what had happened.

It wasn’t until you made it into the kitchen did you saw the small crowd of people, Sam, and a few others standing over a body slumped on the floor.

“What the fuck-” You asked, alerting them to your presence. When Sam turned around, the body came into view. Pietro was lying in a pool of blood, Wanda clutching his body, the most heartbreaking sobs racking her body.

“Oh my god.” You gasped, tears springing to your eyes.

Sam’s hands were bloody and shaken. “I don’t know what happened. He’s here. He came for Wanda, and he jumped in front, and we couldn’t stop the bleeding.”

“Who’s here?” You asked, voice loud. Unable to see Steve or Natasha, as the house was now cleared out. Bucky had yet to come down the stairs.

“The killer.” He spoke, “We called the c-cops, but it’s Halloween, they said-” You cut him off, brushing past him to get a better view. Pietro had at least 10 visible stab wounds on his chest, his eyes wide and glossy. Wanda was soaked in his blood, her whole body in shock.

“Wanda. Wanda, honey, we need to go. It isn’t safe.” You whispered, grabbing her shoulders gently. “Is he still in the house?” You asked, having to repeat yourself twice to get the attention of the shellshocked college students. Nobody knew, when he killed Pietro, he went out the sliding back door. You didn’t trust it, you fucking knew it. You knew you weren’t going insane. This was going to end up in a blood bath. Three of your roommates were unaccounted for, and your best friend’s brother was dead.

“Help me get her up.” Sam sprang into action, helping you pry the screaming Wanda off his body. He picked her up firefighter style, despite her fighting. You ordered one of the freshmen to grab one of the tablecloths off the table, where you placed it over his body gently. Doing your best to avoid looking into his eyes, unable to process any of this. You had only one goal: get everyone out safely.

“Where’s Steve and Nat?” You asked before there was a large thump, Bucky stumbling down the staircase, clutching his arm. Blood pooling under his hand.

“Run,” Bucky screamed, signaling that the killer was upstairs. The group of you stumbled through the living room, Sam still holding Wanda. When he made it to the porch, it was too late. The freshman girl who was with us screamed. The killer was now standing on the porch, the Ghostface mask splattered with blood. Staring ominously at us. Her screams turned into gurgles from the knife he stabbed into the back of her throat, her body slumping to the ground.

“Get Wanda out of here.” You yelled to Sam, at the same time he was yelling, “Are there two?”

Are there two? You peered back to where Bucky was standing, his superficial cut on display. Barely deep enough for all the blood he was sporting on his clothes. He ran forward, slamming the door shut with his shoulder, deadbolting it while yelling something you couldn’t hear. Was it fight or flight? Adrenaline? You weren’t sure. You couldn’t feel any part of your body.

Sam said something before he ran out the back while the killer banged on the front door, determined to bust it down. All you could do was hope he was able to get her to safety.

“Bucky, where’s Steve and Nat? Were they upstairs? Are you okay?” You rambled out, hoping your worst fears hadn’t come true.

“I didn’t see them. He attacked me from behind.” He panted, moving to barricade the door with the entryway table. Was he barricading the killer out or you in?

Without thinking, you turned around, bolting up the blood-soaked stairs, yelling out Natasha’s name. Checking every room until you settled on hers. The gun. The one only you knew about. Fumbling through her nightstand, you found the simple pistol, making sure the bullets were in there before you tucked it into the waistband of your pants.

“Y/n? We need to get out of here.” Bucky yelled from the hallway, having followed you up.

“I’m not leaving until we find Steve and Nat.” You yelled back, stepping into the hallway to find him, turning around in confusion. “Bucky, where did-”

All the air was taken out of your lungs when a large force pushed you backwards down the stairs, each wood edge cutting into your ribcage. Unable to take a breath, your head swirling until you hit it hard on the bannister. Your vision going black.

You came to with a gasp, your whole body searing in pain. Each breath felt like you were getting stabbed in the chest. When your hand cradled the back of your head, it came back soaked in blood. When you looked up from the bottom of the staircase, there the killer was, slowly stalking down with each step.

“F-fuck.” You wheezed, doing your best to stand up on your shaky legs, doubled over in pain when you rushed to the back door. You made it to the couch before the killer was inches away. He grabbed a fistful of your hair in his gloved hand, yanking you back to the floor.

“Not so fast.” The voice modulator crackled when he spoke. “I always knew you’d be a fighter.”

You were yanked back, yelping when he dragged you to the floor. Trying to dig your knees into the rug was useless as he dragged you around. Pinning you to the edge of the couch, your knees aching.

“Buck was right. You do look good on your knees.”

His words made every hair on your body stand up There were only a few people who called Bucky that. While you were frozen in shock, you could feel the sharp edge of the knife digging into your neck. From there, he pushed you further into the couch, cornering you with his legs. The knife is traveling down the front of your sweater, gently prodding the fabric between your breasts. Swirling around the sensitive skin.

“I’m gonna have so much fun with you.” He cackled, holding the knife to your throat again, while his other hand traveled to his pants. You barely registered the sound of his pants unzipping when the cool metal of the gun pressed against your back. Sliding one of your hands to your back, hidden by the awkward angle of the couch. The killer was too busy trying to pry his pants open to notice your hand curling around the hilt of the gun.

Looking up, through the mask, you tried to imagine anyone else but who you thought it was. For months, you imagined this scraggly horror movie character behind the mask; you couldn’t imagine it was Steve. Your best friend, the blonde-haired golden retriever who refused to kill mice. The man you called your brother.

“Steve?” You asked, willing them to deny it.

Instead, there was a loud laugh, so loud the voice box couldn’t even catch up. His real life is escaping from the mask. “God. Guess you’re not as stupid as Buck made you out to be.”

“Where’s Natasha?” You demanded, voice cracking. There was no time to ask why he was doing this; you didn’t care. You wanted your friend to be safe.

“Her stupid fucking sister called her. She went outside to take it. Ruined our plans, but hey, we improvised.” The knife was itching further away from your throat while he spoke, too busy gloating to pay attention.

“Our?” You croaked out, willing the tears to stay back.

“Oh, don’t play stupid,” Another cruel laugh, “He wanted one last fuck before we gutted you. Told him he was getting attached.”

“What the fuck was this all for?” You sobbed, your dignity lost somewhere between the broken rib and the blood oozing from your skull. “Pretend to be our friends, then kill us? For fucking what?”

“That’s the best part,” Steve stopped, one of his hands coming to push the ghost face mask up. “There’s no reason. Not really. It’s just a game to us. Whatever psycho analyzing bullshit you’re gonna say, don’t bother.”

Seeing his face as he spoke those cruel words only made it cut deeper. His eyes were completely void of everything that made him who you thought he was.

“It’s unfortunate you and Natasha are smarter than we thought you were. But no worries now!” He let out a laugh, as if this were a joyful stroll in the park.

“Bucky said no playing games, but I'd settle for at least a blow-” Before he could say anymore, you pulled the gun out, barely aiming before you shot. Two shots rang out, hitting him square in the chest and another in the stomach. He flew back, blood splattering on your skin. Your ears were ringing, your hands trembling so hard the gun nearly slipped out of your hand.

Crawling over next to his body, you ripped the mask off, still shakily pointing the gun at him. Steve looked up at you, blood pooling out of his mouth. A sob pulled itself out of your throat, choking on your own saliva. The same boy who helped you paint your bedroom made you dinner when you were sick. His blue eyes filled with tears.

“Y-you shot me.” He gurgled, trying his best to put pressure on his own wounds.

“Fuck you.” It was all you could manage through your sobs, standing up on shaky legs.

The creak of the back door sliding open got your attention, and you pointed the gun at the noise. Natasha’s red hair glowed in the dim lights. A sob of relief escaped you, nearly falling to your knees at the sight of your best friend safe.

“What the fuck?” She asked, stepping into the kitchen. Nearly stumbling back at the sight of Steve on the ground, eyes rolling into the back of his head. The bloodied Ghostface mask was next to his head.

“Why did you come here? We need to leave.” You gasped out, hobbling towards her.

“N-no one else was brave enough. Honey, I couldn’t leave you here. Come on.” She cleared her throat, trying her best to process everything while remaining level-headed. “Fuck.”

“I love you.” You laughed, the action causing a sharp pain up your side.

“I love you more-” She was cut off by a black figure appearing out of thin air, a knife slashing across her throat so quickly you didn’t even realize until it was too late. Blood spraying out of her neck, her body going limp. The figure tossed her body to the floor roughly. Bucky stood there, his clothes soaked in your best friend's blood.

You couldn’t think; all you could do was shoot blindly. Emptying the rest of the bullets from the gun, none of them even came close to hitting him. Your eyesight blurry with tears, and your head was pounding. He stood there unfazed, a shit-eating grin on his face. As if he was enjoying this. This was all your fault. All the signs were there, but you ignored them. Let him gaslight you into thinking it was nothing. Now you were staring at the bodies of your dead friends, at the hand of the man you loved more than anything.

“Oh, baby. Stevie did a number on you.” He spoke, a mocking tone in his voice.

“Who are you?” You gasped out, your knees shaking, barely able to hold your weight. You made the mistake of looking down. Natasha’s body twisted at an inhuman angle. A sob tore from your throat, finally giving up and dropping to your knees.

“Don’t act stupid.” He parroted your words from the last argument you had with him, “I’m Bucky. Your boyfriend. Love of your life.” He sauntered over to you, leaning down to your level. You flinched, crawling across the floor to get away from him.

“Don’t act like my cum still isn’t dripping out of you.” His hand grabbed your leg, pulling you across the floor over to him.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” The words tore out of your throat, screaming and thrashing in his hold.

“Talking like that is only gonna turn me on, baby.” He cackled, straddling your body. The knife is hovering over your heart. “We were really hoping to have some fun with you and your friend over there, but you just had to ruin it.”

His voice was deflated, frowning down at you. “Can’t believe you killed Steve. That’s kinda hot, baby.” A low grunt escaped his mouth, his cock hardening at the idea.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You screamed, meeting his eyes. If he was going to kill you, you weren't going to go down without a fight.

“Oh my mommy didn’t love me blah blah. I’m sure you could study me another time. Oh wait. There won’t be.” He was stalling, the knife still pressing against your breastbone.

By the grace of god, red and blue lights began to peer in through the windows. The sounds of sirens are growing louder and louder. Bucky’s body tensed, clearly thinking he’d have more time.

“You’ve really been fucking my plans up tonight, baby.” He sighed, reaching up to grab a fistful of your hair. “I might just have to take you with me.”

You couldn’t let him take you from here, winching in pain, you did all that you could think to do, and that was scream. Screaming so loud your throat ached, praying someone would hear to come help.

“God, I love when you scream for me.” His smile was wide, his eyes dull of any emotion. Long gone was the Bucky you loved. You weren’t even sure if he ever existed. To know the last years of your life have all been a lie, a twisted game.

Not even a revenge killing, no grandiose speech. Simply two people who got off on the chase, the thrill of the kill. Brutalizing women for their own twisted enjoyment was worse. So much worse.

“Look around, no one’s coming to save you-” The moment he looked to the side, you grabbed the knife by the blade, the feeling of it slicing deep into your skin, not even phasing you, slipping it out of his hands, grabbing the hilt, and sticking it into his thigh. He let out a soft grunt, his hands wrapping around your throat.

“You fucking bitch.” His hands squeezed, the wound from his thigh bleeding fast. Your hands fought at his hands; still, a small smile appeared on your bloodied face. “Yeah, you like this? Bet you’d like it even-“ His taunts stopped, his body drooping from blood loss. Too caught up in the thrill, he didn’t even realize the blood spurting from his leg.

“Femoral artery.” You choked out, watching his face drain of color. “See you in h-hell.”

He squeezed harder, your resolve slipping. Content with the idea that if you died, at least it was avenging your friends. Suddenly, air gasped back into your lungs, Bucky’s hands losing their grip with each spurt of blood from his wound. His eyes were rolling back in his head before he fell to the side. His chest rattled a sound that would haunt your nightmares. With a crackled gasp, you managed to slide out from under him, watching as his body stilled.

Alive. You were alive.

Grabbing the edge of the couch, you used all the force in your body to stand up on your shaky legs. You were running on pure adrenaline, unable to feel your limbs. The tangy metallic smell of blood stung, your body sticky with Bucky’s and your own. With nothing but hope, you straggled to the doorway, gripping the wooden frame for your life. The sirens reflected off the windchimes on the porch; there were distant screams. Looking into the dark, you swore you saw Sam running from the long driveway.

Your heart broke as you stood there, your head pounding, ears ringing, ribs no doubt broken, and your hands sliced to the bone. People you trusted with your life were the very ones who tried to take yours, and did take your friends. Hands gripped your shoulders tightly, your body slumping against the shadowed figure. Everything sounded as if it were underwater, your vision blurring.