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Requested by isobellllxo! Hope you like it :)
"You've gotta keep working on keeping your casualties down, Buck." Steve walks beside his best friend dressed in all leather and black as they lug their mission packs down the hall. Headed towards their neighboring rooms, Steve keeps lecturing Bucky on his tactical methods. "We never want to kill anyone—good or bad. If there's a way to avoid death, we do it that way." His light blue eyes move away from the carpeting. "Got it?"
"Yeah, sure." Bucky refrains from rolling his eyes at the repeated lecture he's heard about a dozen times. But he knows it's no use arguing with Steve—he's too damn honorable for his own good. If Steve could trap the fly rather than smash it, he would. He regrets all the lives he's taken, even the terrible ones. Bucky does too—but for different reasons.
The two super soldiers pass a closed bedroom door with the smell of burnt out balsam candles coming out of it. Steve can't help but shuffle slower as he walks by your room. His eyes linger on the door for a moment before forcibly dragging away.
"Any updates on the stalker?" Bucky asks, even though he knows that if there was any news he'd have heard it already.
Steve shakes his head. The taut skin around his sharp jaw is splattered red—not from blood, but an angry blush. "No. Stark even stayed behind on this last mission so that he could keep digging. But it's been a week and we haven't found a single thing." Again Steve's brain is shot with the images of all those letters and your tears that night he'd found you on the hallway floor. Not a moment has gone by that he hasn't worried about you or how he's supposed to keep you, the woman he secretly loves, safe from something he can't track down.
Bucky's soft slap to Steve's shoulder shakes him from his thoughts. He looks over at his friend who tries reassuring him with a nod. "She's going to be okay."
Steve lets out a long breath but says nothing.
"Why don't you stop by and see her." Bucky stops them in the hall and reaches for Steve's things. "Tell her you're home or whatever it is that a man in love is supposed to do."
Steve scowls and blushes all the same. "Shut up, jerk."
Bucky's chuckle is low. "Whatever, asshole." He grabs their things and turns to finish the walk down the hall. "You know I'm right," is the last thing he calls out over his shoulder before Steve looks away.
Steve takes the few steps towards your door before softly knocking. There's no noise inside but a small tabletop fan. He tries again before daring to push it open just a hair—calling out your name. When you still don't reply he ventures farther inside.
"Y/N? You in here?" The room is dark—curtains closed and not even a lamp clicked on. He flicks the light switch and watches as the space is illuminated. Your dresser drawers are all cockeyed and messy as if they'd been raided. His heart picks up speed as he sees the chaos your things have been left in.
"Looking for something, Rogers?"
Steve startles and turns. Standing behind him in the hall is Nat. She's leaning on the doorframe across yours with a small smile on her face. She, just like everyone else in this damn compound, is acutely aware of Steve's big ole crush on you.
Not waiting for Steve to reply, Nat says, "She went back to the campus for the weekend. One of her friend's was having a big party or something." The redhead gives a half-shrug before pushing off of the wall and sauntering closer. "She'll be back tomorrow."
Steve's brow gnarls up. His fists clench at his sides. "And Tony just let her go? When we still haven't found that sick freak?"
"He sent the twins with her. I offered to go, but she said I wouldn't blend in." Nat shrugs and smirks. "I think that was her way of telling me I'm getting old or something, the little brat."
Steve shakes his head. "He shouldn't have let her go. None of you—you should've stopped her." Steve pushes past Nat to stomp down the hall.
"What were we supposed to do, Steve? She's a grown ass woman. She can do whatever she wants—there was no keeping her." Steve's forced to stop as Nat's firm grip is suffocating his forearm. He looks down at her with hard blue eyes. She only sighs, "She's scared, Steve, and she misses her old life. She wanted to have some normal fun. Tony may have let her go, but it was only because she would've gone with or without his approval."
Begrudgingly Steve brings himself to nod. He knows Nat's right, but he loathes the idea of you being out there in the world with that stalker still looking for you.
Nat's hazel eyes closely inspect her friend's face. She's known Steve for a long, long time. But never has she known him like this—she's never seen him act like this for anyone before. She sees similarities in his behavior in his love for his brother Bucky, but it's not the same.
"You really love her, don't you?"
Steve's thrown off by the question from Nat's lips. She's watching him closely, waiting to hear what he'll say.
"More than anything."
Nat's soft grin is the sweetest one she's ever mustered. "You need to tell her."
Steve takes a small step away. "No, I can't."
"Don't be coy, Rogers. Man-up and tell her." Nat rolls her eyes with a loud laugh. "She probably already knows."
Steve sighs, thinking back to how you'd curled up next to him in his bed that night last week—how he'd waken up with your arms wrapped around his waist and your legs tangled with his. And how after that night you'd only seen him a few times here and there or across the dinner table: how his eyes had lingered a little too long on your perfect face and you never even noticed, how he always brought himself right outside your door to knock—ready to go in and tell you everything—before turning around and walking away.
"No, she doesn't." Steve shakes his head. "And she can't—not now. That's not what's important now."
"Yeah, maybe you're right." Nat shrugs. "But eventually..."
Steve chuckles. "Yeah, Nat. I'll tell her eventually," he caves in and agrees. From the back pocket of his tight jeans he hears his phone ringing. It's an obnoxious song that Tony set for his ringtone on everyone's devices and Steve's not patient enough to get rid of it. Grunting, the blond digs out the cell and brings it to his ear. "Yeah?"
"I know who it is."
By Steve's face and the snippet of Tony's tone she can vaguely hear, Nat knows what this is about. She tears Steve's phone out of his hands and puts it on speaker. "What'd you find, Stark?"
"Doesn't matter what I found, all that matters is that we need to send out a team to bring Y/N home right now."
Steve doesn't waste a moment. He starts jogging down the hall in the direction they first came, shouting out for Bucky to come. Bucky, already dressed in his pajamas for a nap, pokes his head out his bedroom door with a confused look on his face.
"Get your ass in gear, Barnes!" Nat calls at him.
"Oh—okay." He disappears while the two others keep running for the stairs.
"Drop the coordinates to the jet." Steve speaks dry but stern into the phone receiver. "We'll take off in five."
"I shouldn't have let her go. I should've told her to stay...."
"Yeah, you shouldn't've," Steve snaps. Nat glares at him and he begrudgingly adds, "But that's irrelevant now. We'll find her. Just tell us what you know."
...
"OH MY GOD!"
The scream makes your head turn towards the sound. Coming from the direction of the kitchen the girly scream is followed by a running brunette and her annoyed boyfriend trudging behind her. She squeals again, screaming your name, and throws her arms around your neck.
"You made it!"
"I did," you laugh and hug her back. The girl's name is Vanessa. She was your dorm roommate back in freshman year. She's pretty. Pietro notices this too, and her boyfriend notices HIM noticing. There's a slight glare-down going down between the white haired boy next to you and the frat kid.
Wanda rolls her eyes.
"Who are your friends?" Vanessa asks. "When did you come back in town?"
"We just got here this morning," you tell her. "And this is Wanda and her brother Pietro. Good friends of mine."
Vanessa shoots each of them a big, tipsy smile. "Nice to meet you!" She notices that you're without a cup and frowns. "Oh my god! Where's your drink?"
"I just got here, Van. I can't even find Tyler." You shrug as you bring up the hosts name. It's his birthday bash after all—the main reason you're back in town.
"Oh Tyler's in one of the bedroom's upstairs getting sucked off by some cheerleader." Vanessa waves a hand dismissively. "I'll pass the word on that you're here though. Maybe he'll venture out of his lair for you."
"I doubt it," you laugh lightly. You accept the red plastic cup from Vanessa's boyfriend. He gives on to Wanda too, but totally skips over Pietro. You can hear him huff. When Vanessa turns you give your cup to Pietro instead. "Take it. I don't want any."
"I'd be stupid to turn it down," Pietro chuckles. He looks around the loud room with wide blue eyes. "Is this really what a college party is like? I expected it to be more..."
"Fun?" Wanda offers.
"Yeah," Pietro agrees.
You laugh, "Well, you don't know anyone here, so it makes it slightly less fun. And you're sober—so that's kinda a buzzkill. But we'll only be here for a little while then we can go back to the hotel."
Pietro starts to nod before interest sparks in his eyes. "Oh hello there..." he mumbles lowly. It seems as though a pretty young American girl has caught his eye. "Excuse me, sister and sister's best friend, but I have to go." He takes a hearty drink of warm beer before plowing through the intoxicated crowd.
"Piet! Get back here!" Wanda shouts. She tries going after him before remembering that she's not supposed to leave your side. "He's an idiot, I'm sorry."
"He's okay to have some fun." You smile and add, "You too, Wanda. You don't have to babysit me."
The brunette shakes her head. "That's not why I'm here, Y/N."
You're not sure if she means the babysitting or the fun part. Either way, you figure that she could do with a bit more to drink. "Drink." You try tilting her cup into her lips with a laugh. She chuckles and follows your command. Smiling, you shove her shoulder. "See? Fun."
"Not fun. It's disgusting."
"Well, it's cheap. You're spoiled on Tony's rich-people shit." You stand on your toes in your Converse to peer through the crowd. Standing over by the fridge you see a couple other friends from your classes last year. "Oh, I want to see them!"
You start to drag Wanda towards the kitchen. She hesitates in following you, sighing and mumbling something about having to get her brother out of trouble yet again. "He's absolutely stupid..." she shakes her head and sighs. "Don't go anywhere, okay? I just gotta keep him from doing anything like he's doing now..." Wanda gestures over to one of the couches where her brother has his tongue in some pretty dame's mouth.
You gag and she laughs. "Please, yes. Stop that. I'll be right over here." You both smile one last time before turning different ways.
Squealing and laughter ensues when you're reunited with a couple of old friends. Larissa, Pat, and Dylan are all happy to see you after so many weeks apart. They try to rapidly fill you in on all of the gossip. Pat is the birthday boy's older sister, by three years. She's not nearly as pretty as he is, but she's just as funny and lovable. Her ratty hair and unkempt look pairs unpleasantly with Tyler's well-kept image.
"Where is your loser brother anyway? I brought him a gift and everything," you laugh and gesture to the satchel you've pulled over your shoulder. There's a wrapped book inside—one that you know Tyler, who secretly loves all things nerdy, would appreciate.
"Upstairs with a girl, probably." Pat rolls her eyes and you laugh again. "You know how he is. I'd tell him you were here but I'd worry that he'd steal you away from us. He seems to really like you, ya know."
"He likes every girl." You shake your head. "I can't be too flattered."
Larissa nods, "That's true."
Dylan, the only boy in the conversation now, shakes his head. "Yeah but he really wanted Y/N here tonight. And was hella excited when she texted Pat back saying she'd come."
Pat scoffs. "Yeah, he's crushing hard."
You laugh sort of awkwardly. "Well, I don't know about that."
Thankfully, the conversation shifts away from Tyler and his supposed crush on you. In the middle of a conversation about summer trips, someone comes up to Pat and asks if there's any cake. "Oh! Yeah. Duh," she laughs. "What kind of a party host am I? I left the damn thing in the fridge."
You go to open it up and look inside. "Not here, Pat."
"Not this one—the garage one. It was too big." She sets down her drink and smiles. "Wanna give me a hand, Y/N?"
"Sure." You follow the taller girl out of the kitchen. She turns her head back to talk to you on the way. "How's the countryside treating you?" she refers back to where you said you'd be moving to after school got out.
"Pretty good, I guess."
"Anything new in your life?" Pat asks in a friendly, bland tone. She flicks on the lights that lead down towards a downstairs—what looks like a basement garage. She glances back at you with wiggling brows. "Any boys?"
You laugh—feeling your cheeks blush. "I mean, no..."
"That wasn't a very convincing no!" Pat points out with a cackle. She jogs to the last step and then pushes into the basement. "If I didn't know any better I'd say Y/N's turned into a liar over the summer."
"There's no one, I promise." You chuckle lightly at her antics before coming to follow her into the room. You stop just after coming in through the doorway. The room is cold. It's dark. But it's light enough to where bits of it seem familiar... too familiar.
"What are you doing standing there? Come give me a hand. You can take the beers and I'll grab the cake..."
"Whose house is this?" you ask. Your wide eyes dart to the dusty, dirty, leaky refrigerator that Pat's got her head inside of. She peers up at you blankly while you repeat the question, louder this time, "Who lives here?"
"Ty and me," Pat replies. She slowly shuts the fridge door—holding the cake in her arms. She tilts her head towards you. She watches you closely for a minute and how you stare crazily at the old humming refrigerator: the same fridge you see in your nightmares. The one from the pictures. The one that you never imagined being so loud or so close. You can smell the rust in the air. Over in the darkened corner there are chains—you know it. Ones that belong on bicycles but have been set up for you instead.
"I—I have to—I have to leave..." you hardly manage to stutter out an excuse before turning and running back up the stairs. Pat's calls of your name as you run away are hardly heard by your ears.
The party's music is too loud. The bodies are hot and sweaty as they slam on you from all sides. You gasp and push through them. Catching your breath becomes impossible. The air is sucked out of your starving lungs like someone's stuck a hungry vacuum down your throat. Your whole body is tight and on high alert.
Tyler's your stalker. Tyler's the one who's been planning and plotting your death for all these weeks. He's the one you've been afraid of, and you've walked right into his trap.
You have to get out of here.
You don't even bother to find Wanda or Pietro. Outside in the front yard kids are laughing as they piss in the flowerbeds. You slip on someone's discarded shoes before dashing towards your car. Digging around for your keys you nearly scream as you realize it's pointless—someone has their big rig blocking you in the driveway.
"No, no, no," you stutter. Your hands shake as you look for your phone. But strangely enough, it's nowhere to be found. Maybe if you had it in your pocket like you always do you'd be able to call for help, but you're alone.
"Y/N!" a girl calling your name has your head whipping around. Coming from the walkway is a jogging, very confused looking Pat. "What's going on?"
"My—my brother called. I need to leave. I have to," you lie with tears in your eyes.
Pat rushes up to you and comfortingly squeezes your hand. "It's okay. Tyler will understand. I'll tell him you stopped by." She offers a sweet smile with her eyes locked on yours.
"My car..." you point back to your yellow ride.
Pat grunts. "Tyler's stupid fucking truck again. Why the hell does he always have to block people in?" she grunts and looks back down at you. She's a good bit taller and wider than you are. She's built like a wrestler, which is why she made varsity very easily her freshman year. "I can go grab my keys. I'll give you a ride back to your hotel."
Rapidly your head bobs up and down in a nod. Pat smiles sadly at your plain discomfort. "Don't panic, Y/N. We'll get you home." She smiles sweetly before turning off. "I'll be right back!"
"Thanks," you aren't sure if she hears you or not as she jogs away. You watch her disappear back into the house where the loud, fast bass matches the pace of your heartbeat. You run your hands over your scalp and through your curled hair as you feel a few tears start to pool at the corners of your eyes.
Suddenly, two masculine hands appear out of the dark night. A scream bubbles from your lips as they clasp down on your shoulders with so much force that your knees almost buckle and send you towards the pavement. But before you can fall, the man is spinning you around by his firm hold and dragging you onto the street. Under the lamppost lights you can make out Steve Roger's features hidden underneath an inconspicuous baseball cap and glasses.
"S-Steve?" you gasp. "Oh my god," you rush to thank heaven and wrap your arms around his neck. You bury your face into his chest and he holds onto you with both hands pressing into your back.
Based on your reaction and the fright he'd seen on your face when he found you, Steve knows you've figured out who your stalker is—and that they're right here with you at this party. He holds you against him and says, "It's okay now, Y/N." Even though he doesn't want to, Steve pulls you away until you're standing apart. "Bucky's waiting for you in the car."
"It's Tyler," you rush to tell him even though you know that he already knows. "It's Tyler—I saw his basement, it's Tyler. I know it is."
Steve blinks at you a couple of times. He glances up above you at the house once before looking back down to meet your gaze. "It's his sister, Y/N. It's your friend Pat."
The way your jaw drops and stomach churns is something that no crime or horror movie could ever portray quite right. You clutch onto Steve's sleeve and stare at him—not totally convinced. "But she..."
"Get in the car," Steve doesn't waste any time in trying to pry you off of him. He obviously wants to keep you leeched onto him, but he knows you'll be safer with Bucky away from this sick place. He pulls you towards the parked SUV that Bucky has driven up on the opposite side of the street curb. "Come on, Y/N. You don't need to be here."
Bucky leans across the passenger side to pop open your door for you. He extends his hand, the flesh one, and you take it. He pulls you into the seat and tells you in his husky, deep voice to buckle. Steve closes your door before you can say anything to him.
Steve turns towards the house where all the kids are running wild. He knows the police are on their way—a loud distraction that'll draw all the partiers away from the scene. But right now all he sees is the front door opening and a tall, stoic-faced woman walking out in search of you. Her eyes quickly scour the street before landing on Steve. She clutches her purse closer to her side and slowly backs away and into the house once more. Only when she finds herself in the threshold again does she run.
Bucky puts the car in drive and speeds away before you can say or do anything. You even tried unbuckling and following after Steve as he ran off after Pat, but Bucky reached out and grabbed onto your leg and sped so fast that any attempt of escape would be suicide.
"How do you know it's her?" you ask breathlessly to Bucky.
Bucky lets go of your knee as you drive farther away from the party. You can hear police sirens in the distance. You almost want to cover your ears.
"Your brother figured it out. I don't know how. I was just told to keep you in this car." He shifts gears and you huff—annoyed with him and also growing more and more scared by the second. "Hey, don't freak out. She's a psychopath, but she's no match for Steve and Nat. And the twins are there, and your stupid brother too. Literally everyone's there. She's not getting out of there."
"Okay, you're right." You try to convince yourself that there's nothing to be scared of anymore as Bucky gets farther into town.
Bucky keeps glancing over at you all huddled up in a ball in the passenger seat. You wipe at your face, tired and afraid, and smear red lipstick in the process. Your once perfectly styled hair is now frizzy and wet from the moisture in the air. In your skinny jeans and tight tank top you hug yourself to keep off a chill. He shakes his head at the sad sight of you, the girl his best friend has fallen head over heels for.
"How about some food, kid? Would that make you feel better?"
You smile softly over at the Winter Soldier. "You know me well, Sarge."
There's a swanky hotel downtown not too far from campus that all the Avengers find themselves going to when the mission is done. Everyone except for Tony and Steve head to their respective rooms for the short night before their flight in the morning. Your brother and secret admirer go towards the room that's yours. Bucky lets them in and gestures over to your sleeping body laid up on the one of the chairs by the TV. The two of you had been watching Friends reruns for a few hours and eating McDonalds before you fell asleep. Bucky stayed to keep an eye on you like he promised Tony and Steve he would.
"Thanks, Tin Man. Maybe you aren't so bad after all." Tony tries at a joke but he's too tired to make it funny. He steps around Bucky and makes his way over to you. He grabs one of the blankets and carefully drapes it over your huddled body. He pauses to press a kiss to the top of your head before shutting off the TV. Steve lingers in the doorway while Tony passes. The older Stark pats Steve once on the back before walking off.
"Well?" Bucky asks quietly once Tony's gone. "What happened?"
Steve can't bring himself to look away from your peacefully dozing self as he replies to Bucky's question. "It's over."
"Where's she locked up tonight?" Bucky asks about the perp's whereabouts—mainly out of curiosity. He wonders how long she'll be in prison for. Tony will hire the best lawyers, for sure.
"The morgue." Steve finally breaks his eyes away from you to read Bucky's shock. "I killed her."
"You..." Bucky stops himself. He nods, knowing that he should've seen this coming—even with as shocking as it may seem.
"I didn't have to. It was me, Tony, and Nat with her in that damn basement room. She was armed, but Nat could've handled that. I just—" Steve stops himself with a deep breath. He looks down to his hands that are now in fists. "You didn't see the things she wrote, Buck. Or hear what she said tonight before I took her down. She was sick. And I couldn't let Y/N face her in trial, or worry about a parole, or have to see her face on TV..."
"I understand," Bucky assures Steve quickly. "You love her. You did it because you love her." He risks a quick glance back into the room at you. You're moving around uncomfortably on the lounger.
Steve nods. He lets out a long breath through his nostrils. "I'm gonna put her to bed."
Bucky, understanding that he doesn't need to be here anymore, leaves for his own room.
The door's soft click close is what sends Steve over your way. In the dark he can hardly make out your shape, but he knows it well enough to find you and lift you easily against his chest. He smiles softly when he feels your warm breath against his neck. All of the tightness in his chest and aching muscles dissipate when your cheek presses to his breast.
Softly, as if thinking you've been crafted out of glass, Steve lays you on the bed in the middle of the room. Your head nestles in the pillow and your eyes flutter open.
"Steve?" you sleepily croak his name.
Steve smiles—fingers brushing away some of the curls from your face. "It's me." His voice matches the softness of yours. He kneels by your bedside and you sigh.
"Are you hurt?" you infer. You blink your eyes open a bit wider in attempt to see him.
Steve shakes his head. You feel his palm on your cheek and you press your hand against his to keep it there. He shivers. "I'm fine, honey. You need to get some sleep."
"But I'm not tired," you yawn.
Steve chuckles into the quiet night. "Liar," he accuses with a lovingly soft tone. He brushes his thumb against your cheek and goes to stand. "I'm in the room across the hall if you need anything." His hand falls away and grazes the mattress. But before it can fall out of your reach, you grab onto it—fingers tightly wound around his wrist.
"Stay with me," you tell him. "Please." You prop yourself up slightly on the feathered pillows.
Steve blinks down at you. "There's no reason to be scared anymore, Y/N. You'll be safe here on your own."
"I know. But I don't want you to leave," you tell him. You swallow stiffly before giving his hand a gentle tug. "I want you to stay." You play with his fingers, drawing his eyes down at your entwined hands, before he see him nod. Then he's kicking off his shoes. Not bothering with the rest of his street clothes he goes to crawl into bed right next to you. Hands still linked together you keep him from rolling too far—afraid he'll try too hard to be polite and leave you alone on one side of the mattress.
Using your hold on his hand, you pull his arm over to one side of you. It forces his body to shift slightly over yours. All you can smell is his soap and cologne and the softest hint of sweat. Your eyes flicker from his baby blues to his lips—plump and pink—and notice how he's doing the same to you. He sees how you keep biting down on your lip between deep, slow breaths. And before Steve can stop himself, he's pressing his mouth down onto yours with his hand gripping yours and his other reaching up into your hair. You taste like chocolate, he thinks, and he's dizzy with the smell of your perfume. Rolling closer to him on your side you kiss harder—lips suckling and tasting harder and slower than either of you thought possible. There's nothing but pure love and joy pecking at your ribcage now. Chest flush with his you can feel his heartbeat, too, and it's just as frenzied. And then you're breathing faster and kissing deeper: your hands moving to pull off his shirt. He breaks the kiss long enough to move down your jaw, holding your waist and dragging you against him. Your leg wraps around his waist and you hear him sigh against your skin, "I'll protect you. I'll keep you safe..." He presses an especially lusty, deep suckle against the side of your throat and you lightly gasp—clutching at his pretty blond hair. He smiles—eyes blinking up to gaze at your pretty, flushed face. "Because I love you."