elizabunny

[elizawritestoo]

eliza⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

20. tv lover. playmate of the year ｡𖦹°‧

status!! ☆ masterlist ☆ taglist ☆ library ☆ request rules ☆ dividers

I do not consent to any of my works being copied and/or used elsewhere. I do not consent to my works being used to train artificial intelligence (A.I.) of any kind. All of these works are completely fictional.

[elizawritestoo]

july status

currently inactive. lurking occasionally but not writing.

thank u for all the support 🩷

[elizawritestoo]

happy pride month 🏳️‍🌈

hi all! i know i'm pretty inactive right now. work pretty much just drains me of all my energy and i'm definitely in a bit of a creative rut right now. but i wanted to come on to say happy pride month everyone! it is so important, now more than ever, that we are loving and protecting our community. wishing you all a very happy and safe pride month!

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🩵🩷🤍

[5-jorjas-in-the-fence]

Happy pride month to those who are scared

Happy pride month to those who are proud

Happy pride month to those who are out

Happy pride month to those who are closeted

Happy pride month if you’re trying to figure yourself out

Happy pride month if you’ve known for years

Happy pride month to those who it’s their first

Happy pride month to those who have celebrated for years

Happy pride month to those who are afraid to celebrate

Happy pride month to those who will scream it from the rooftops

Happy pride month to you.

[elizawritestoo]

thanksgiving in america

story masterlist | main masterlist

pairing: winter soldier x widow!reader

summary: it's your first thanksgiving in america and you're unsure of how to spend the days off. as per usual, you're trying to make the best of this bad situation, while the soldier is just trying to make it through the assignment. november 1983.

warnings: mentions of ptsd and brainwashing, some family conflict, hurt some comfort, angsty & kind of fluffy (she tries), touch starved winter soldier!bucky barnes

THE soldier had taken to sleeping in the empty guest bedroom after he had woken you up for a fifth time. You hadn’t said anything about it, just letting him go. You tried to ignore the feeling that falling asleep in an empty bed gave you. It had been a few months since he had made this change and you know that nothing had gotten better. You could still hear him through the walls sometimes. Groaning and soft crying. The pained sounds created an ache in your chest, but you stayed in your bed. The soldier had moved rooms for a reason. It wasn’t your place. You weren’t really husband and wife. So, you would just cover your ears with a pillow and try to fall back asleep.

Your boss had told you to take off Wednesday through Friday. You hadn't understood why until you saw the paper mache turkey on his desk and then you remembered. It was Thanksgiving. The American holiday centered around ignoring the horror of colonization in favor of loving thy turkey.

You knew the basics of the holiday. After all, you had spent weeks preparing for life in America, learning the basics of the culture, holidays, and traditions. You knew turkey and pie were to be expected. You knew there was a parade in New York City with large floats and people sometimes wore pilgrim hats. And you knew, partially from overhearing coworkers complain about in-laws coming into town, that Thanksgiving was a time when family got together.

But you didn't have a family. You had the solider. But he was no family. And so the next five days were sure to be long and boring. Sure you'd had time off from work before, with weekends happening every week and some Labor Day nonsense back in September, but five days?

See, you'd usually spend the weekends writing detailed reports about the happenings of the past week or training with the solider to keep in tip top shape. Maybe you'd attend a soirée being hosted by the neighbors or coworkers in order to keep up appearances.

But even then, Sunday evenings would drag on. With the soldier usually locked away in his room and nothing interesting on the tv, you often just did laps around the house, biding time until it was an appropriate time to microwave your tv dinner.

As you pull into the driveway on Tuesday evening, you struggle to consider what you might do over the next five days. Would the soldier just lock himself away while you were forced to watch Brady Bunch reruns?

You refuse to let this happen. So as soon as you pull into the driveway, you reverse out, driving straight to the supermarket instead.

You're disappointed to find all of the turkeys sold out. All that is left was some deli meat slices and a few of your second-favorite frozen TV dinners. As you pick up one of the remaining cans of green beans and a bag of potatoes, you hope to be able to salvage the idea.

"Lisa?"

You carefully turn your head towards the voice to your left, clutching the can of cranberry sauce in your hands in case you needed it to defend yourself.

"Hey, Jill!" you reply, loosening your grip on the can as you see your neighbor standing before you.

"Doing some last minute shopping? I know I am," Jill laughs holding up a bag of rolls in her hand. "Bobby can't do Thanksgiving without rolls, I don't know how I forgot them."

"Well, of course! Rolls are the best part," you reply easily. You don't particularly care about rolls. "Shopping for Thanksgiving just totally slipped my mind, so I'm trying to grab what I can to pull something together."

"Oh my gosh, you and David should just come join Bobby and I! I mean, if y'all don't have any plans," Jill reply.

You take a breath quickly. In the construction of your role as Lisa Brown, it had been determined that you had a distant relationship with your parents. They lived somewhere far away, somewhere nondescript and uninteresting. They wouldn't visit you but you and David would occasionally visit them (when you needed a cover for being gone for days or weeks at a time). David's parents, it had been established, were dead.

"We don't have any plans," you begin carefully, trying to decide how much information to let on. Eventually you decide to just leave it at that.

Jill grins. "Perfect! you two'll just have to come over! We usually try to eat around 1 o'clock, but lord knows we never seem to make it on time. Oh, y'all can come over whenever!"

You don't know how the soldier is going to feel about it, but you don't think there is much harm in it either. You had been to Bobby and Jill's before. Despite them both being quite older than you and David, they were probably your closest... friends? acquaintances? people.

When you return from the supermarket, having purchased only a bag of potatoes, green beans, cranberry sauce, sliced turkey, and a bag of rolls that Jill swore were the best brand to buy, you find David's car in the driveway.

As soon as you enter the house, you're on edge. The soldier isn't in his usual spot at the kitchen table. He's sitting in your living room, facing the door as you enter. He's silent.

You kick the door shut behind you, readjusting the grocery bag in your arms.

"Hey," you breathe out. You wait for a response as you slip your shoes off, but when one doesn't come you assumed he was busy, wrapped up doing something in his mind.

As you walk the length of the living room, the only sound was your feet padding across the shag carpet. That was until you reach the doorway to the kitchen, when he finally speaks.

"You were late getting home."

You stop walking as soon as you hear him, turning your head to face him. "I went to the store."

"You go to the store on Saturdays. You broke routine," he says carefully.

"Yes, well, Thanksgiving is on Thursday. I had... forgotten," you say quickly before continuing into the kitchen.

You unpack the bag and then go back into the living room to hang up your coat and scarf. He's still sitting in the same spot on the couch, staring at you.

You sigh. "Come on, I'll warm up dinner," you tell him, tired and a little frustrated for reasons you couldn't quite figure out.

You walk back into the kitchen and take out some frozen pasta dish to heat up. As you turn around from placing one of the dishes into the microwave, you find him sitting at the kitchen table in his usual spot.

"Jill and Bobby invited us over for Thanksgiving. I didn't think saying no was a good idea."

He doesn't respond. Just keeps staring.

"They're friendly. It could be a good thing to have friendly people on our side. Being new to the neighborhood and all," you continue. Though you two were alone and supposedly safe to talk freely in the house, it was best to speak in vague terms. You two, better than anyone, know that you never really know who may be listening.

The soldier never raised any complaints and on Thursday morning you find him dressed and waiting for you downstairs. You decide to bring the can of cranberry sauce over to Jill and Bobby as a gift, though you're pretty sure they have their own.

"Are you ready?" you ask the soldier, though you know the answer: a single nod. "Okay, let's go."

Jill and Bobby are welcoming as always. Jill says you're too kind for bringing cranberry sauce, even though you spot a can already on their counter, she insists they needed it. Bobby gives David a firm handshake and asks if he's looking forward to the Pittsburg-Detroit game later. David, as per usual, responds as best he can, flashing a smile so friendly and charming it could disarm a bomb. You can't help but return the smile though he isn't even looking at you.

"Jill, do you need any help with cooking?" you offer, trying to distract yourself from the way you feel when you see David smile.

"Come on, David. I got the parade on in here," Bobby says, leading David into their living room.

You help Jill prepare the green bean casserole and listen as she tells you about her daughter's husband and how they're spending Thanksgiving with his family this year. You nod thoughtfully and play a guessing game of what reaction is appropriate until the casserole is ready to go in the oven.

"It's just hard to be alone on Thanksgiving-- well, not alone, obviously. But this house used to be full of kids and in-laws and, well, that was difficult too but..." Jill trails off.

"This is difficult in a different way?" you offer. Jill smiles, as if remembering a far off memory, and nods.

"Yeah, it's just different. But enough of that. How have things been with you and David?"

"Oh, they're good," you pause as you try to think of other things to say. "Feel like we're finally settling into the house, which is nice. We've gotten into a routine."

Jill smiles. "That's good. It's hard everything being so new, you know. Getting married then moving to a new house and getting a new job. Lot of pressure."

"You've got no idea," you reply, smiling.

"Bathroom?" a raspy voice that you're only used to hearing at home sounds from behind you. You spin around immediately to see the solider --not David-- standing in the kitchen, ghost white.

"Oh, it's through the living room, honey. Second door on the right down the hallway," Jill says from beside you. He's already on his way there before Jill finishes the sentence.

"I'm going to check on him," you say, partially over your shoulder as you follow him.

"Okay," you hear Jill call out.

You pass through the living room, seeing that Santa Claus is making his way through the streets of New York City, signaling the end of the parade. You also see Bobby asleep in his recliner chair.

Moving past that you arrive at the bathroom door, finding it to be locked. You knock gently.

"David?" you whisper. "David, is everything alright?"

No response. You knock lightly again, twisting the handle again but it’s still locked. You wait another moment before bending down to inspect the lock. It appeared pretty standard so you jimmied it, pushing the door open carefully.

“David?” You lean into the room, your eyes finding the soldier as he huddles in the corner of the bathtub, his eyes fixed on some invisible point in front of him.

You step into the bathroom, gently shutting the door behind you. The soldier doesn’t react to the sound as you move to lean against the counter across from him.

“Honey?” He didn’t react. You had never seen him like this. Sure, there were the times he woke up panicked and teary eyed after a nightmare. But this was different.

You push yourself off of the counter and step to the edge of the tub. You crouch down slowly, not wanting to scare him.

“What’s going on?” You wait a moment before continuing, “please, just tell me what's wrong." The panic that is rising in you is clear in your voice. They hadn't trained you for this. "What to do when your partner goes non verbal and hides in a bathtub" was not in any of the books you read on marriage or America.

You settle on your knees as you wait for him to do something, anything. Slowly, you reach your hand out, gently placing it on his shoulder as you tried again.

"Hey," you whisper. He finally reacts once your hand made contact with his shirt, his eyes darting to yours, wide and panicked. "What's going on?"

He's almost trembling under your hand as he replies. "I remembered."

note: i'm aware that i was supposed to post this like a week ago. sorry guys

oh also, i completely forgot to say this BUT THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 500 FOLLOWERS!!!!! that is actually CRAZY! when i started writing fanfictions a year ago, i thought i'd get like 30 followers maybe but 500 is so crazy, especially with how inactive i've been recently due to my busy schedule. thank u all so much for the support, it is truly so motivating.

join my taglist!

taglist: @bonjourjiminie @yesav111 @paubotty27 @alastorssimp @cynbx @reidmiss-3 @otheliesstuff @trulyem @herejustforbuckybarnes @nicememerino @am-3-thyst @siemprx @w1nter-fairy @hbbbjjjb @darkartsxx @sebastians-love @donuelle @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @meg81589 @nbdblogger @hhallefuckinglujahh @galaxygoddess30 @otheliesstuff @rafesmunekita @sebastians-love @n1ght-mares-from-h3ll @ithinkimagirlkisser

[elizawritestoo]

guilty pleasure part 2

previous part | series masterlist

pairing: sarah cameron x camgirl!reader

summary: sarah tries out her new vibrator to a new video of hotg1rl69, but begins to realize that hotg1rl69 may be closer than she knows wc: 0.8k

warnings: smut [masturbation, camgirl actvities, watching camgirl activities, sex toys (vibrator, dildo), fingering, edging], bisexual!reader

hotg1rl69 became a guilty pleasure for sarah. whenever she was stressed or worked up or couldn't sleep, she would go to her page to get some release.

tonight, sarah was particularly worked up. she had come over to your apartment and the conversation had somehow arrived at sex:

"okay, i have a secret. it may be tmi but..." you had trailed off.

sarah leaned in. "what? come on, you can't leave me hanging," sarah said with a giggle.

"okay..." your voice dropped to a whisper. "i bought this dildo."

sarah couldn't help but burst out laughing. you started laughing along with her.

"no, sarah, seriously. it was amazing. better than the real thing."

this led to you retrieving the dildo from your bedroom. she could see why you said it was amazing -- it was huge. long and thick and hot pink in color, with fake balls to grind against at the bottom.

sarah blushed as she stared at the toy, a vision of you fucking yourself with fake cock flashing her mind. she had to squeeze her thighs together as she forced the thought from her mind.

the conversation didn't exactly end there either, so it was safe to say that sarah was practically itching to use the new vibrator that she had just purchased, having been inspired by her favorite camgirl (who she had not mentioned to you).

sarah felt like she had been teased all day, so she was quick to pull her pants down as she stretched out on her bed, vibrator in hand. she set it on the medium setting, gasping as she pressed it against her clit and found a new video on hotg1rl69's page: "riding my new dildo (cumming twice)"

sarah felt her clit pulse as she read the title, clicking on it immediately. she watched as the woman hovered over the dildo, her fingers already between her thighs as she tried to stretch and prepare herself for the dick.

sarah let out a moan as she watched the woman slowly sink down onto the dildo, the hot pink disappearing as the woman lowered herself until her clit was bumping against the fake balls.

"ohfuck.. so big," hotg1rl69 groaned.

sarah felt her pussy clench as she ground against the vibrator even harder. she needed something in her. she balanced her phone to keep watching the video as she began teasing her hole with two fingers, her wetness already gushing out from the pleasure on her clit.

the woman was bouncing on the dildo now, her slick making the dildo reflective in the lighting before she slammed her hips back down with a loud moan.

"so big," she moaned again. for a second sarah thought there was something familiar about the voice, but pleasure replaced that thought as she slipped two fingers into her dripping cunt.

sarah felt herself nearing the edge as she watched hotg1rl69's orgasm hit her suddenly, a moan ripping from her throat as she dropped down on the dildo, giving it a few small bounces as the orgasm rolled through her. but she wasn't done yet -- and neither was sarah, who had turned off the vibrator and stilled her hand in order to not orgasm yet.

sarah took a few deep breaths as hotg1rl69 did the same. but then she started grinding against the dildo in earnest, moaning loudly as her sensitive clit rubbed against the toy.

sarah watched until the need between her thighs was too great and she switched the vibrator back on, working her orgasm back up.

sarah moaned as her favorite camgirl bounced roughly on the dildo, grabbing at her bare breast and groaning as she overstimulated herself.

"oh fuck, it's so big... i love it. wanna ride this forever," she moaned through the video, getting more vocal as her second orgasm neared.

sarah was getting close too. it felt even more powerful than before as she teased her hole once again. the pleasure was so intense, she could barely contain her moans.

"oh fuck--" hotg1rl69 moaned in the video, "oh i'm gonna cum!" and she did. moaning loudly as she rubbed against the balls. sarah came right along with her, her pussy squeezing her own fingers tightly as pleasure coursed through her.

sarah laid in silence after the video finished playing, focusing on getting her breathing to return to normal. once it did she sat up and looked at the cover of the video again. the dildo that had been used was exaclty like the one you had shown her today. and there was something so familiar about the room hotg1rl69 filmed in. and about hotg1rl69 herself.

"oh, no way," sarah said aloud to herself as she looked closer at the camgirl, who was increasingly looking to be you. "no way."

join my taglist!

taglist: @bonjourjiminie @yesav111 @paubotty27 @alastorssimp @cynbx @reidmiss-3 @otheliesstuff @trulyem @herejustforbuckybarnes @nicememerino @am-3-thyst @siemprx @w1nter-fairy @hbbbjjjb @darkartsxx @sebastians-love @donuelle @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @meg81589 @nbdblogger @hhallefuckinglujahh @galaxygoddess30 @otheliesstuff @rafesmunekita @sebastians-love @n1ght-mares-from-h3ll

[elizawritestoo]

her favorite p☆rnstar series masterlist

pairing: sarah cameron x f!camgirl!reader

summary: sarah finds a camgirl that she keeps coming back to. at first it's just a harmless guilty pleasure, but then she starts to realize there's something so familiar about her favorite girl.

warnings (18+): explicit sexual content, mdni

part 1: user hotg1rl69... may 7

when sarah discovers user hotg1rl69 on a camgirl website, she just can't help herself wc: 0.5k

part 2: guilty pleasure... may 11

sarah tries out her new vibrator to a new video of hotg1rl69, but begins to realize that hotg1rl69 may be closer than she knows wc: 0.8k

part 3: no way... unknown release date

note: i'm not sure how long this series is going to be, but it's really just supposed to be a fun time. there's aren't a lot of wlw sarah cameron fics out that (or really any sarah cameron fics at all) which is sad because she is definitely the best cameron. like i love rafe (mainly bc drew starkey is gorgeous) but let's be serious. sarah is the kook princess for a reason. -- also i couldn't find credit for this playboy divider, i think the account is gone.

[elizawritestoo]

nightmares i

previous part | series masterlist

pairing: winter soldier!bucky barnes x widow!reader

summary: when your husband has a vivid nightmare in bed next to you, you have a strange urge to comfort him, but you're not sure how. august 1983.

warnings: ptsd, angst, hurt w/ comfort, nightmares, accidental slapping while asleep, wee bit of non-sexual cuddling

YOU had started your job without a hitch, which allowed you and David to fall into a routine. You would go to work, come home and document what you had done that day, taking special care to list anything that may be important to your bosses back East.

You would prepare dinner, which was usually something very simple, while David sat at the kitchen table. Three times a week, you would push aside the furniture in the living room and spar to keep your skills up. It was during one of these sparring matches that you realized one of the soldier's arm was a prosthetic, though a very realistic one. The quality of the fake arm did not hide the scarring around his shoulder, which had made you cringe when you first saw it.

You would share anything important that you had observed at your respective jobs, though you usually spoke more than the soldier did. You would occasionally watch the television, if not mostly to have something to say if someone asked what you had been up to.

But every night, when you would finally go into the bedroom to sleep, the soldier would always follow within minutes. You would put a pillow in between the two of you, say a quiet "goodnight," and turn out the lights.

You still weren't sure if sharing a bed was a part of your assignment, but it had been happening since you moved in and just felt natural. So, for a month, you two slept side by side without incident.

But then things began to change. You were a very light sleeper, which made sense considering your training. This meant that the slightest sound or movement woke you up. It hadn't been a problem for the first few weeks but then you started waking up more often due to noises coming from the soldier

At first it was just a quiet noise. Then it was a groan. Then he started shifting in his sleep, moving his limbs or turning over forcefully. One night, he threw his real arm across the bed, the arm landing on your face with a smack.

You had already been awake, but he had woken up after you let out a small "ow" from the impact. Your frustration at having been smacked dissipated as you watched him wake up.

He started immediately, sitting straight up in bed as his breaths came in short bursts. He looked around wildly, squinting his eyes like he was forcing them to adjust to the darkness of the room. It took a minute but he began to recognize where he was.

"Hey," you whispered to get his attention. He snapped his head towards you. It was like he'd forgotten who you were.

"What happened?" he mumbled, his breathing beginning to calm down.

"I don't know. You hit me," you answered honestly.

He stared at you for another second. It was like he was still trying to process the fact that this wasn't a part of his dream. You waited for him to say something, maybe a half-hearted "sorry," but he didn't. He just got out of bed and left the room without a word.

You looked at the empty side of the bed for another moment before laying back down and going back to sleep. When you woke up the next morning he hadn't come back to bed. But when you saw him, he didn't say anything about it. Just went to work with tired eyes.

You didn't talk about what happened again. But that didn't stop the nightmares from getting worse. You started waking up every night from him making noises or tossing in bed as his subconscious mind tortures him. Usually, you just tried to roll over and cover your ear with a pillow, occasionally jostling the bed to snap him out of it. That was until one night...

It was around 1 a.m. when you were woken up from a groaning beside you. You sat up on your elbows as you looked over at the sleeping form of your husband. His face was scrunched like he was in pain, and his hand was clawing at his left shoulder.

The fabric of his t-shirt scrunched up and you could see the awful, jagged scars that surrounded the top of his fake arm. You had to tear your eyes away as he made a sound like a wounded puppy. In the dim moonlight of your bedroom, you could see tears forming around his eyes as his face contorted once more.

You couldn't let this go on anymore. You told yourself it was because you'd never be able to fall asleep with such noise beside you. But deep down you knew it had something to do with the pained look that was etched on his face. You didn't want him to suffer anymore.

So, you did something that was in hindsight probably very stupid. You gently shook his shoulder to wake up the frightened trained assassin from his nightmare.

It took him a moment to wake up but once he did he was sat straight up, breathing heavily as he looked around wildly, his hand still clutching his left shoulder. The tears were still wet around his eyes and your hand was still reaching out for him. He had the look of scared, lost puppy and it broke something inside you.

"Hey," you whispered.

His head snapped towards yours, his eyes wide and lips parted. His chest was still rising and falling rapidly as he tried to get his bearings.

"It's okay, you were having a dream," you said. It had been a very long time since you'd tried to comfort anyone. Honestly, you couldn't actually remember a time you'd tried to comfort someone, but you guessed you had done it at some point.

You couldn't tell if you were helping as he still sat tensely in the bed. You didn't think as you made your next move of slowly reaching out for him, moving your still outstretched hand towards the arm that held his shoulder.

His eyes watched intently as your hand went to make contact with his skin, and even though he watched it happen he still jumped slightly. But after the initial jump, he seemed to relax a bit more. So you kept your hand pressed against his bicep.

"It's okay," you whispered again after a moment. You slowly wrapped your hand around his arm and lightly pulled for him to release his shoulder. He looked at your face as you did so and you nodded to signal that it was okay for him to let go.

Slowly he released his shoulder and let you drag his arm down to his side. His breathing seemed to be returning to normal, but his heart rate was still pretty high as he kept his eyes fixed on your face. The faraway look that his eyes usually held was gone, replaced by a deep and immediate despair.

"It's alright, you're okay," you whispered again, having had a gut feeling that it was the right thing to say. You waited a few minutes before shifting slightly, trying to signal that it was time to lay down again. He copied your movements as you laid back against your pillow as you had been before.

But something was different now. He was laying much closer to you now. He was practically touching you as he curled his body towards you, leaning his head down until it was almost halfway on your pillow. With your hand still lightly touching his arm, you felt his heart rate finally beginning to calm down, his eyes drifting shut.

You kept your hand on him as you fell back asleep. You weren't sure why. But felt like the right thing to do.

note: i finished writing this because someone left a comment on the previous chapter like a month ago asking me to come back and keep writing the series. so let this be a message to everyone to comment on your favorite fics, it really can help give us the motivation (obvi be respectful about it!!) also the next part for this series should be coming May 14!

join my taglist!

taglist: @bonjourjiminie @yesav111 @paubotty27 @alastorssimp @cynbx @reidmiss-3 @otheliesstuff @trulyem @herejustforbuckybarnes @nicememerino @am-3-thyst @siemprx @w1nter-fairy @hbbbjjjb @darkartsxx @sebastians-love @donuelle @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @meg81589 @nbdblogger @hhallefuckinglujahh @galaxygoddess30 @otheliesstuff @rafesmunekita

[elizawritestoo]

user hotg1rl69 pt 1

series masterlist

pairing: sarah cameron x camgirl!reader summary: when sarah discovers user hotg1rl69 on a camgirl website, she can't help herself wc: 0.5k warnings (18+): smut [camgirl activities, masturbation, pillow humping, fingering, vibrator, fingers in mouth, squirting], camgirl!reader

sarah wasn't really sure how she found herself on the site. well, yes she was. she had been desperate. nothing else was doing it for her, so she had scrolled on twitter until she saw a video of a beautiful woman humping a pillow. she was mesmerized by the woman's movements and the noises she was making.

sarah clicked on the username, hotg1rl69, and found another video of her rubbing herself through her panties. she was hooked, eventually clicking on the link in her bio.

which is how she ended up cumming as she pumped three fingers inside of herself to a video of hotg1rl69 fucking herself on a pillow, her head just out of frame as it was in all her videos. sarah was shaking as the video ended with her showing the wet spot on the pillow to the camera with a soft moan.

there was something familiar about the video. she couldn't quite figure it out. hotg1rl69 had never shown her face or talked -- only moaned and whimpered as she gripped her breasts through her bra, rutting against the pillow as fast as she could.

she ignored it, clicking out of the tab and trying to forget about the fact that she had just came so fucking hard to some random girl on the internet. she didn't think about it until the next time she was trying to fall asleep but couldn't because of the pulsing between her thighs.

she tried rubbing her clit through her panties for a few minutes before sighing and pulling up hotg1rl69's page. she scrolled through the video until one called "vibrator fun" popped up. she clicked on it immediately.

"oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck," she whimpered in the video, a large vibrator pressed firmly against her clit on the highest setting. her hips jerked, the pleasure overwhelming and immediate.

sarah slipped her fingers under her panties, feeling the wetness that was already leaking out. she moaned as she pushed one finger inside, clenching as hotg1rl69 did the same in the video.

sarah could see the woman's wetness as she pulled her finger out, holding it up to the camera with a moan. sarah then watched, jaw dropped, as hotg1rl69 put the finger in her mouth and sucked.

"so full," she whimpered as she slipped two fingers in her hole, still rocking against the vibrator on her clit.

sarah added another finger and began grinding against her hand as she watched the woman's moans get louder and louder. it was obvious she were close.

hotg1rl69 sped her fingers up, mouth falling open as her orgasm began. "oh fuck.. oh-" the woman was gushing now, squirting all over her fingers and the vibrator as her orgasm rolls through her body.

sarah has to bite her lip to stop from moaning too loudly as her own orgasm starts, her cunt clenching tightly around her fingers as release pulses through her.

once sarah has caught her breath again, she starts to think she may need to buy a vibrator for herself...

next part

note: it has been way too long since 1) i wrote a fanfic and 2) i wrote a WLW SARAH CAMERON FANFIC!!! could it be possible that sarah knows reader?? part 2 coming.....

but hi everyone!!! how are we doing???? also sry if u r on my taglist for bucky or rafe..... hope u like lesbians!

also 1 year anniversary of this blog was like a month ago but i wasn't active then, so this is me saying happy 1 year of elizawritestoo!!! thank you all so much for the love and support you've shown over this past year!! it inspires me and keeps me motivated more than you know <3

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[elizawritestoo]

hi i’m obsessed with frosting of my heart it was so sweet just wondering if that’s it or will there be more chapters 💖💖

hiii!!! thank you so much!!

unfortunately that series is finished. i'm afraid i'm just not a multi-chapter series writer as of rn. i would like to write more bucky fics but i've kind of lost inspiration for his character rn

[elizawritestoo]

hii can I be added to ur taglist !! I was on it before changed my username :(

hi my love!! yes ofc!!

what was your old user so i can delete it?

[thischarmingdog]

my advice for women is eat more, shave less, and do whatever the fuck you want

[divorcedfranklangdon]

just a reminder that it's fuck ICE forever

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

what ao3 would look like with ads. no, you do not want this. support ao3 because it’s one of the last few places on the internet that is not tainted by capitalism bullshit. support ao3 because it’s one of the last few places on the internet that is genuinely about the connection between audiences, artists, their works and the love/passion artists have for what they do

[elizawritestoo]

frosting of my heart chapter 2

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pairing: post-tws!bucky barnes x f!reader summary: after deciding to end things with bucky, you try to move on. sometimes you think you're really doing it, but it's never quite true. wc: 6.3k (yikes) warnings (18+): angst! w happy ending, but some angst first, smut [unprotected piv, spanking] at the end, avengers tower fic rahhh, lowkey miscommunication, alcohol consumption + hangover, natasha is a good friend, bucky barnes needs a hug, loneliness, self doubt, sam is lowkey a player in this one LOL notes: PSA!! someone requested to be added to my taglist through my req button and i accidentally deleted it bc i apparently can't work computers... anyways please req again if you still want to be added or comment on this post!! sorry for the inconvenience. also thank u all so much for the support on the first part!! enjoy!

Bucky felt... restless. Though he wouldn't ever say it (he doesn't say much nowadays), he knew something was off. Since you two started having sex, you had never turned him down. But now it had happened twice. The first time you said it was because you wanted to do a sleepover with Nat, and the second you didn't even try to make up an excuse. Something was off.

"Hey, Buck." Steve's voice pulled Bucky out of his thoughts as Steve sat down beside him on the quinjet.

Bucky pushed aside his thoughts about you. "Hey," he said, briefly looking at Steve before turning elsewhere.

"These flights back are always long. Especially when it was already a long mission," Steve said after a beat of silence.

"I've been on longer," Bucky said, eyes fixed on some point straight ahead.

Steve sighed at that, sitting back further in the seat as he breathed out. "Yeah... how have you been doing?"

"I'm fine."

"Really?"

Bucky paused before turning towards Steve, who was already looking at him. "Yeah."

"I'd have agreed with you up until a few days ago. You were doing well but something changed a few days before the trip," Steve said earnestly. Though Bucky's knee-jerk reaction was to shut down and stay silent for the rest of the flight, the sincerity in Steve's eye has him pausing before sighing.

"I'm sort of seeing someone..." Bucky forces out the words like it pains him to do so. Talking about something like this feels so foreign to him now.

Steve's eyebrows jump up at the admission. His surprise eventually stutters into a small smile. "Well, that's... that's good, isn't it?"

"It was, I think, but something's changed in the last few days, I don't know... She won't really talk to me," Bucky says, looking down at his hands when Steve's face changes.

"Oh well Buck, that doesn't necessarily mean somethings wrong. How long have you guys been going out?"

Bucky stays quiet for a moment too long, knowing that his next works won't yield a positive reaction. "We're not exactly going out."

Steve takes a minute to understand Bucky's meaning. Bucky looks up from his hands and has to give an ashamed nod for Steve to finally understand.

"Oh, Bucky, you don't even take her out first?" Steve asks incredulously.

"It just sort of happened and she said she was okay with it," Bucky says quietly.

"Has she said that recently? Because I think I'm starting to see why she hasn't been talking to you," Steve says. "Listen, I'm not saying you propose or anything, but if this girl means something to you, just, you know, check in. Make sure you're both still on the same page with this arrangement."

Bucky sighs because he knows Steve is right. You had seemed okay with this arrangement as Steve calls it but you didn't seem okay a few days ago. And it wasn't like he'd really stuck around to talk after your rendezvous.

As the plane begins its descent, Bucky is left with a feeling of guilt gnawing at him. He hadn't realized how badly he'd fucked up. Of course you were pulling away, he barely looked at you unless you were fucking. He knew he needed to do better, but he didn't know how.

Meanwhile, back at the tower, you had spent most of the past week throwing yourself into your work. Luckily, Tony had a new project he was working on that kept you busy. But by around day five, the work had slowed. Tony had flown to D.C. for something or other and told you to take a few days to work on something else.

Unfortunately, all of your other work seemed to slow down too. For the first time in your life, you were frustrated with the lack of things on your plate. By the morning of the day Bucky was coming back, there was nothing to distract you from the feeling that had wrapped around your heart, a frown tugging at your face.

You didn't want to feel like this anymore. You wanted to feel excited and loved and not like a convenient, breathing fuck toy. Luckily, you came to this realization on a Friday night, just minutes before Lucy, who worked in Pepper's office, came up to invite you out.

She usually did this a few times a month, asking if you wanted to go out with some of the other young twenty-somethings who worked in Avengers Tower. You usually said no. Lucy was a nice girl, but the idea of lounging in your own bed sounded a lot better than drinking overpriced cocktails with your coworkers.

However, she caught you at the right time on this Friday evening, because you knew the plane with Bucky on it would be landing within the next few hours. And you didn't want to be sulking in your room when it did. So when Lucy comes knocking on the lab room door, you surprise the both of you by saying you'd love to join them.

And that's how you end up in some random bar in Chelsea sipping a $22 fruity concoction listening to Daniel from Research talk about his most recent run in with the Captain America. It's interesting to hear the way he, and everyone else in the group, talk about the Avengers. Though you'd never forgotten they were a group of incredibly powerful individuals, you'd also come to know them as roommates and friends of sorts.

Lucy's voice draws you back to the conversation as she says your name. You look up from your half-empty glass to find everyone's eyes on you.

"You're pretty close with them, aren't you?" she says.

"Oh, um I guess, I mean not super close but--"

"Oh come on!" Jenn, also from the office of Pepper Potts, interrupts you. "Don't be so coy. You sleep like five feet from them."

You laugh awkwardly. "Yeah, I guess I do..." You trail off, though every eye at the table is still fixated on you. Realizing that you're going to need to offer up a bit more for them to move on, you continue: "I don't know, they're just people. Really powerful people obviously, but they've all been very nice and welcoming since I moved in."

"All of them?" Lucy asks with a raised brow. "Even the Winter Solider?"

Your breath catches in your throat at the name. "Bucky?"

"Mr. Tall, Dark, and Crazy?" Jenn says with a laugh.

You down two mouthfuls of your sugary drink as you think on your reply.

"He's good. He's fine," you say, though you swear you can feel your face is heating up just at the mention of his name.

"Oh he's fine alright," Jenn whispers, taking another sip of her drink.

You struggle to keep your face normal at the statement, hiding behind your glass as your stomach drops. As Lucy laughs at Jenn's words, you force a tight smile even though you think you may be sick.

You get back to the tower after midnight. Though you had managed to get back into normal conversation once the topic switched from Bucky, the tightness in your stomach never quite loosened. That in combination with the sugary drinks left you on edge as you took the elevator up to the residence floor.

Thankfully, the floor is dark, the common room empty. You tip toe your way to your room, like you're a teenager sneaking back into their parents' house. Once you get to your room, you take a longer-than-usual shower, hoping it will set you up for morning of few regrets.

Bucky is up early, like usual. They had landed around 9:30 p.m. and everyone else had pretty much gone straight to bed, tired from the long mission and even longer flight. Bucky, on the other hand, had planned on talking to you that night. He looked around the kitchen and common area, before knocking on your door. No response.

He had tried again, softly calling your name through the door in hopes you'd open up but to no avail. Once he'd realized you weren't going to open up, he had walked down the hall to sleep. But sleep did not find him that night.

He had laid wide awake for a few hours, mulling over every time he'd refused to meet your eyes or left without saying a word. But then at about 12:30, he heard something down the hall. It was quiet. A little shuffle of footsteps, like someone had stumbled in loud shoes or something.

Bucky had gotten out of bed immediately, sliding right up beside the door to listen closer. He heard a fumbling movement and then the soft lock of a door. He waited another minute with baited breath but heard nothing. He decided to just take a walk down the hall to see if anything stood out to him.

His legs carried him to your door as if on instinct. He found himself just standing there, staring at your shut door as he had done hours earlier. But now he heard the faint noise of your shower running.

Oh. The understanding came together in his mind quickly. You had been out when he knocked earlier. Just coming home now at almost 1:00 a.m. and immediately getting into the shower... just as you did after one of your rendezvous with him.

Bucky turned on his heel once he put the last piece in place. He went straight back to his room where he shut his eyes in the name of sleep, though it continued to evade him for the rest of the night.

Despite his lack of sleep though, Bucky is up early, like usual. He goes to the training room like normal, though he spends a lot more time in there than he usually does. He's got some pent-up feelings to work off.

When he's done with his training, he heads back up to get some breakfast. As he's about to enter the common room, though, he hears something that makes him stop dead in his tracks. He stands flat against the wall as your voice floats towards him from the otherwise quiet room.

"I don't know. It was nice to get out. I hadn't done that in a while."

"Do you think you'll do it again?" Bucky recognized the voice to be Natasha's.

"Maybe. I think."

"Well, I think you should. You don't get out enough. And especially since--" Natasha's voice drops in volume. "You know, you ended things with Barnes."

Record scratch. Ended things? Bucky's mind is going a mile a minute trying to understand those words but he stops to listen to what you say next.

"Yeah." You breathe out the word like you've deflating. Bucky can't listen to you anymore. He silently slips back down the hall, deciding he'll just shower in locker room instead.

This all happens unbeknownst to you, who is sitting on the couch nursing a bottle of water as you fight through one hell of a hangover. Damn cocktails.

"Yeah. I haven't really been thinking about anything besides him. I knew I didn't want to be here when y'all got back. Definitely not looking forward to the next time I see him," you continue, unaware that Natasha is once again your sole audience.

Natasha hums in agreement.

Bucky is lost. Not location-wise, obviously (he's currently sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall). No, he's lost in thought as the words loop in his mind. You ended things with Barnes.

Sure, you two hadn't hooked up in almost two weeks. You hadn't spoken since, well. There usually wasn't a whole lot of talking when you two were together. But ended things? It was over? You had just decided that... without even talking to him? Just as the thought crosses his mind, he stops. Maybe it was the right thing to do. It wasn't like he had talked to you about his feelings. And you sounded happy now, didn't you? You said it was nice to get out and do something else. You were building a life outside of the tower and that was good, wasn't it?

Bucky nods to himself. Yes, this was the best thing for you. It was your decision and you had made it. So he would live with your decision. No matter how much he missed the smile on your face when you'd open the door to see him, or the feel of your warm, soft body against his. Far too soft and comfortable for someone like him. This was how it should be. Or at least that's what he told himself when that little voice in the back of his mind said he was just being a coward and he should just talk to you and tell you all these things. No, no, this was the right thing to do.

So, he left you alone. He didn't knock on your door again. He didn't come around the lab. Around others, he treated you the same he always had. Distant, reserved, avoiding contact of any kind. He left you alone.

You started to forget what he felt like. What it was like when he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer. When his head would fall against yours and he felt impossibly close, all you wanted to do was keep him there. And then when he left you alone.

You started telling yourself it was just a crush that had spiraled out of control. You were just getting over it and that was fine. Dreams of a man with tousled brown hair and sad eyes were just a coincidence, even when you woke up with a pit in your stomach.

But as the weeks went on, the pit got smaller. You had agreed to keep going to drinks with Lucy and had even come to enjoy it. You had switched your drink order and just laugh when they brought up having a crush on any of the Avengers.

On your fifth Friday out with them, Jenn had invited Mark, a seemingly nice guy from Research. He was cute enough and had slipped into Lucy's seat next to you when she went to the bathroom halfway through the night. You had been on your third drink and he had taken to whispering overly-sweet compliments into your ear. So when he asked if you wanted to get together just the two of you the next day, you'd said yes and entered your number into his phone.

As you got ready the next evening, you couldn't fight the nerves in your stomach. What a great idea this had been last night.

"No, you are not talking yourself out of this," Nat said from your bed as you stood in front of your mirror, tugging at the dress that just didn't seem to fit you right anymore.

"I didn't even say anything," you said defensively as you looked at her through the mirror.

"You didn't have to. You've been pulling at the hem of that dress for five minutes." She got up from the bed and leaned against the wall to look directly at you.

You sighed. "It's been a while since I've gone a date. What if it doesn't go well?"

"Why would it not go well?" She asks, narrowing her eyes at you.

"I don't know, what if I--"

"There's your problem," she says, cutting you off. "If it doesn't go well, it is not your fault. You're just going on a date, okay? This isn't an interview. You're just getting to know him... And you deserve to get to know other people."

The look Nat gives you after the last sentence is too much to bear. You look away from, back at the dress, and you know it isn't the problem. It's not the dress, it's not the fear of saying the wrong thing. It's the guy from your dreams, the one with tousled brown hair and sad eyes.

"Listen, just go on the date. See if there's a possibility for something. You two may have literally no chemistry and he could be a dick, and then you won't even have to worry about the what-ifs that I can see are already spinning around in your head. Just try it out. If you hate it, leave. If you really hate it, call me and I'll beat him up."

You laugh. "Okay, I will. I am."

"It's gonna be fine," she says, matching your smile.

And it was. It was fine... it was perfectly fine. The food had been good. The restaurant was nice... But you could have sworn Mark was cuter the night before. And funnier. And more interesting.

He had told you that you looked great in your dress in about twenty different ways. He had talked about his research. He asked you some of the usual fan questions you always get when people find out you work and live in such close proximity to the Avengers. Eventually the conversation switched to regular first-date topics like school and family and hobbies. Everything was fine. On paper, it should have been a good date. But you just didn't feel it.

At the end of the night, you let him walk you back to the tower, but you didn't invite him up. You said you had had a nice time and let him kiss you on the cheek. Then you sped walked to through the lobby to the elevator, never stopping and looking back at him.

It wasn't too late by the time you got back and you found Natasha waiting for you in the kitchen. When she saw it was you coming off the elevator, she grinned. Unfortunately the grin fell as she saw your unimpressed expression.

"Didn't go so well?" She asked as you set your purse on the counter with a huff.

You took a deep breath before answering. "It was... fine. Okay. I don't know. He was a perfectly okay guy, but..." you let your voice trail off. As you do, you swear that you hear a creak from the hallway, but when no one appears, you continue, though at a lower volume. "I didn't feel it you know? I just wasn't-- he wasn't..."

"Wasn't Bucky?" Natasha offers. And it's the straw that breaks the camel's back. You drop your head as you feel your throat tighten in that telltale way.

"I just wish he had really wanted me," you whisper.

"Oh, honey," Nat whispers as she wraps her arms around you. You fall against her as the tears start to flow. She rubs circles on your back as she softly shushes you. You stay like that for a minute, before you feel her shift. You're too busy trying to not loudly sob to figure out what she's doing but then you hear her say, "Come on, let's go sit in my room."

With that, she reaches over and grabs your purse, keeping one arm around you as she walks you to her room down the hall.

It was an accident. Really, it was. Bucky did not mean to eavesdrop on you talking to Natasha about your date. Not that he knew about your date. Sure, he thought he had overheard Nat telling Steve you were nervous for your date with Mark, some loser--sorry, some guy-- from Research. But he really didn't mean for this to happen. He just happened to be standing out in the hallway when you came home. He may have silently walked to the edge of the hall and listened intently. It was an accident.

Well, no, the real accident was when Sam had bumped into Bucky on his way to the kitchen and nearly blown Bucky's cover. Bucky's hand had shot out and pulled Sam back into the dark shadow of the hall, quickly putting his hand over his mouth in a signal to hush.

"Man, what the hell--" Sam whispered.

"Shh! Shut up," Bucky practically hissed back.

"What?" Sam mouthed back.

Bucky made the hush signal again before going back to listening. Sam leans in to listen as well, hearing your voice as you say:

"I didn't feel it you know? I just wasn't-- he wasn't…"

"Wasn't Bucky?" Nat's voice flows in. There's a beat of silence. Sam's head snaps towards Bucky accusatorially.

"'Wasn't Bucky?'" he mouths. Bucky shushes him.

"I just wish he had really wanted me." The words hit Bucky like a bullet. He can hear the pain in your voice and he quiet sniffles and sobs that he hears in the following moments are salt in the wound. He looks down in shame. And then reality hits him.

Well, actually it's Sam that hits him. The light slap is muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Bucky looks up to see Sam glaring at him. Sam is about to say something but is interrupted by Natasha loudly announcing that she's taking you to her bedroom.

Sam and Bucky both recognize what that means and jump into action. They quickly but quietly scurry to the open door of Sam's bedroom.

As soon as the door is (softly) shut behind them, Sam has jumped into action: "Alright, what the hell is this about? What did you do?"

Bucky scoffs and looks away.

"No, seriously, man. Why is she crying?" When Bucky doesn't answer, Sam crosses his arms. "I can wait."

"I fucked up," Bucky sighs.

"Yeah, I can tell. Now how are you gonna fix it?"

"I thought she was happy," Bucky mumbles. Sam stops his pacing and looks at Bucky like he's the dumbest man alive.

"Are you serious right now?"

Bucky looks back at Sam. "She seemed like she was doing well. She was going on dates and--" Bucky's defensiveness dies out as quickly as it started. "I fucked up and I don't know what to do."

This is how Nat found Sam and Bucky, just a few minutes later; Sam giving Bucky ideas for extravagant gifts to buy you or fancy restaurants to take you to.

"What the hell are y'all planning?" she asked after Sam had tentatively opened the door, attempting to hide Bucky behind it. "A diamond necklace? Seriously, Sam?"

She pushed him aside and shut the door behind her, making a B-line for Bucky, who sat looking a little terrified on the edge of Sam's bed.

"You are an idiot," she said, pointing her finger directly at him. Bucky looks at Sam for help. "Seriously? Sam? When is the last time he had a girlfriend for more than a week?"

Bucky can't think of any retorts to that, so he just frowns at Sam who puts his hands up defensively.

"Eyes on me, you idiot," Natasha snaps. "Listen, she's in my room crying right now because of you. Now, I told her I was going to get a glass of water. But actually, you're going to get her a glass of water. And you're going to tell her how you feel about her. Okay?"

"I thought--" Bucky mumbles.

"Stop being dumb," Natasha interrupts him. He nods and murmurs a quiet "okay." Natasha sighs, happy with the progress she's made.

"Alright, now come on. Get up. She's been waiting five minutes for her glass of water..." she pauses as Bucky rises from the bed and begins walking to the door. "And she's been waiting a few months for the other thing too."

Bucky can't look Natasha in the eye anymore after that. He walks out of the room with his shoulders hung in defeat. He walks down the hall, past Natasha's bedroom door, which he finds to be open. His heart rate jumps as he peers into the room. He scans the room from outside, but doesn't see anyone in there.

He forgets the glass of water, poking his head inside the room to see if you're anywhere in there. No. He checks the bathroom too. No one. You're not in there. Just as he's about to leave to check the kitchen, Natasha walks in behind him.

"Hey, uh, she's not here," Nat says, her face cautious as she grips her phone in her hand. "She texted me."

Natasha holds the phone out for Bucky to take. He takes it and reads the most recent messages from you:

10:33 p.m. hey, sorry for leaving but i can't be here right now. thank u for being there for me tonight.

10:34 p.m. i'm going out with lucy, so don't wait up. maybe i'll get lucky and find someone at the bar...

10:34 p.m. we can talk more tomorrow but i judt can't think about the bucky thing anymore tonight

Bucky hands the phone back to Natasha without another word. He doesn't speak to Sam, who's leaning on his doorframe watching as it happens, either. He just goes to his room where he can be alone.

But he can't sleep. Of course he can't sleep. The sound of your voice when you were talking earlier... like you were broken. Like he'd broken you. All he could think about were the hushed sniffles and sobs. The pain he had caused you.

And now you were out god knows where, thinking he hated you. Thinking you meant nothing to him. And it was all his fault. He pushed you away every time you tried to get him to open up. He used you and he left, like you were his own personal sex doll. When things got quiet, when the passion was over, he couldn't face the music. He couldn't just hold you because then maybe he'd have to do something about it. He'd have to tell you about the things he'd done and how he wasn't a good man and how lost he was. So he didn't say anything and now he'd lost you. Now he'd hurt you. He couldn't live with that.

He gets up from his bed, where he's been laying and staring at the ceiling for hours. He walks out into the hallway and then into the kitchen. The large windows dimly light the room with lights from the city that never sleeps. He just stares out the window for a moment, watching the headlights flash by on the street below, flickering like stars. He lets himself get lost in the stop-go of the taxis, the green-yellow-red of the traffic lights.

He's pulled out of his haze by the sound of the elevator whirring up the floor. He moves over to the shadowy corner of the kitchen, watching as the elevator doors open. He can't make out who it is at first, but then he hears the clumsy shuffling of heels and the sound of a purse hitting the ground and spilling.

"Aw man!"

Once he hears your pathetic exclamation, he breathes a little bit easier. He sees you lazily drop to the floor as you start picking up the contents of your purse and immediately walks over to help you.

It takes you a second to realize someone else is helping pick up your credit card and lip gloss, but, when you realize who it is, your face breaks out in the biggest grin.

"Bucky!" You exclaim, dropping the crumpled five dollar bill you had just picked up as you throw your arms around his neck. Immediately he smells the strong scent of alcohol clouding your usual perfume. He carefully pulls your arms from around his neck and pulls you to your feet, giving you a once-over to make sure you're okay. Though your dress has ridden up quite a bit and you seem less than stable in your heels, you don't seem to be injured. In fact, you're the happiest he's seen you in a very long time.

"Do I look good?" you ask with a lazy smile once he meets your eyes again.

"You look beautiful," he answers honestly. The sincerity in his voice makes your face flush. He keeps his hands on your forearms as he carefully guides you to sit on one of the barstools. He then picks up everything from the floor and puts it back in your purse, setting that on the stool beside you.

"Are you gonna ask me about my night?" You say, though a little slurred.

"How was your night?" Bucky asks as he grabs a glass from the cabinet and fills it up with water.

"Well, it was good, I guess. I had a vodka tonic, well I mean I had several vodka tonics. But they were good. Well, no they were disgusting." Bucky huffs as laugh at your honest delivery, setting the glass of water in front of you. You immediately take several large gulps, not having realized until that moment how thirty you are. "They were gross but they were strong, and that's what really mattered tonight."

Your smile drops immediately. Like the mention of tonight brings back memories of earlier in the evening. Before the vodka tonics, when you were crying over the man who was now fetching you glasses of water.

Bucky notices the change in your demeanor and changes the subject. "How did you get home?" he asks.

You wave him off. "Don't worry, I took a cab. Lucy called me one. She had been trying to fix me up with some guy but he was lame. You know, like I just don't want that." You sigh dramatically, leaning your face against your hand as you stare at Bucky with a frown. "I just want you, Bucky."

Bucky is quiet for a second before whispering, "I know."

"So then why don't you do anything about it?" you say softly. The look on your face nearly breaks Bucky's heart. Your eyes, though looking a little lost due to the alcohol, have a sadness behind them. Bucky doesn't respond. He just takes your now almost empty glass and refills it with water. He then comes around and puts your purse on his arm, wrapping the other one around your.

"Come on, sweetheart," he murmurs as he picks up the water glass in his free hand and begins walking you to your room.

When you get there, you immediately lay down on your floor. Bucky sighs, placing the water on your bedside table and your purse next to your bed.

"What are you doing?" he asks when he turns back to you, who is sprawled out on your rug, head resting on your arm.

"I'm dirty, Bucky. I can't lay on my bed in this dress," you mumble, eyes beginning to shut as exhaustion overcomes you.

Bucky sighs and goes into your bathroom, turning on the shower. He comes back in and begins undoing the straps on your heels, carefully sliding them off your feet and tucking them beside your dresser. You watch as he does all of this, eyes fighting desperately against sleep.

"Bucky, what're you doing?" you ask when he hooks one arm under yours and another under your legs. He lifts you up, careful to not bump your head on your bed, and carries you into your bathroom.

He sets you down gently, letting you lean against your sink as he checks the water temperature. You begin pulling the straps of your dress down as he turns around, causing him to avert his eyes down to the floor.

"Oh, don't be so shy, Bucky. You've seen it all before," you say as you roll your eyes, continuing to pull the dress down until it pools at your feet. You let your underwear fall too before sliding past Bucky, who is still staring intently at the tile on the floor, before hopping in the shower.

You wash your body, though somewhat sloppily, and clean the makeup off your face. It's all sort of a blur and you accidentally knock over your shampoo twice.

Bucky, who had left the room as soon as you were in the shower, was sitting on the chair in your room. The chair had previously held a pile of clothes that you had gone through while deciding what you would wear on your date. That pile now sat in Bucky's lap.

After you finish showering, you lazily dried off, shivering as you wrap the towel around your body. Bucky perks up as you walk out of the bathroom. While you can feel the effects of the alcohol wearing off, you're still not all there.

"Hey," you say with a smile as you walk over to your dresser, which sits right beside the chair that Bucky now occupies.

"Hey," he says, though somewhat awkwardly. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm good," you giggle. You fumble with your drawer a few times before pulling out clean underwear and some pajamas to wear. Bucky averts his eyes again as toss the towel onto your bed and pull on the fresh clothes. You practically flop into your bed after, sleep tugging at you yet again.

Bucky stands and takes the towel off your bed, covering you with your comforter instead. He takes the towel into the bathroom and picks up your dress and underwear while there, placing them in the hamper.

By the time he's done, you've attempted to scoot up in your bed, eyes watching him intently like you can't decide if he's real or a figment of your imagination.

"Bucky?" you say after he's placed your dirty clothes in the laundry basket.

"Yeah?" he asks, shifting awkwardly under the weight of your stare.

"I wanna talk to you," you say. He's not exactly sure what you mean so he just walks over a little closer to your bed, looking down at where you lay, your eyes blinking heavily. Something about having him so close to you again, has you wanting to tell him everything you'd wished you'd said.

"I miss you, Bucky. Why couldn't you want me like how I wanted you? Why'd you leave?" You don't realize you're crying until Bucky wipes the tears from under your eyes.

"I--" it's like the words are stuck in Bucky's throat. But he won't let it stay like this. "I'm so sorry for how I treated you. I do want you, sweetheart, but I couldn't-- I couldn't, I don't know how to do it. I don't know how to do it right and you don't deserve anything less than right."

"It doesn't have to be perfect, Bucky. I just want you. I want you to be here and not leave me, I just want you to want me. I don't wanna be used, Bucky," you say, surprisingly coherent considering how much you've drank.

"I know... I'm sorry." He watches as your eyes close and slowly open again in what may be the history's longest blink. He smiles softly as you struggle to keep your eyes open. "We can talk about this tomorrow," he whispers.

"I hope I remember this tomorrow," you whisper.

With that, you're out like a light. You think Bucky may have given you a light kiss on the forehead, but honestly you may have dreamt it. When you wake up the next morning, you're not too hungover, but definitely foggy. When you see Bucky asleep in your chair with a pile of clothes on his lap, you definitely have some questions.

You try to be quiet getting out of bed and going into your bathroom, praying that the flush of your toilet won't be too loud as to wake him up (and also because you're currently paying for those "few" vodka tonics with a headache).

You find a some ibuprofen in your medicine cabinet and pop two before drinking some water from the sink. When you come out of the bathroom, Bucky is still sitting in the chair, but now he's up and groggily rubbing at his eyes. He looks up when you open the bathroom door.

"Hey. Uh, how do you feel?" he asks.

You squint your eyes. "Fine, just a little pounding up here," you motion at your head. "You slept in the chair?"

He looks down at where he's sat like he has to remember where he is. "Oh. I did. I, uh, I wanted to be here in case you needed something." The truth was, Bucky had slept better sitting up right in this uncomfortable chair watching you sleep than he had any other night for the past month.

You smile softly. "Well, that's very sweet of you." You go over to your dresser to find some clothes to change into, but you pause. "I remember last night. Thank you for, you know, helping me. I was a bit of a mess," you say softly.

Bucky watches you as you look down at your dresser, refusing to look at him. "You're welcome. I... do you want to talk?"

It's like you've been waiting months to hear him say that. With a sad smile on your face, you look at him and nod.

epilogue:

"Fuck!"

Bucky's hands grip your hips as he thrusted into you. He has your legs folded up against your chest so he can hit that perfect spot.

"I know, sweetheart," Bucky groaned above you. You feel your pussy clench around him at the sweet sound of his voice. He takes one hand off to start rubbing your clit, causing you to moan loudly. You feel yourself getting closer and closer, finally going over the edge when he slaps your ass, his hand then immediately going to soothe the irritated spot.

Your cunt clenches and spasms around his cock, squeezing him until he starts cumming with you, his cock twitching inside you as his cum fills you up.

Damn, you had missed him.

note: okay! this genuinely took me hours! i wrote it in various states so sorry for any not-so-great parts. so difficult to write steve and bucky interacting and not be subtexting stucky. those two... lowkey wrote part of this hungover so you can see why sugary drinks catch a lot of strays in this one.

thank you all so much for the love and support on the first part! truly means so much and it's what compelled me to really lock in on this part today.

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[elizawritestoo]

frosting of my heart chapter 2

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pairing: post-tws!bucky barnes x f!reader summary: after deciding to end things with bucky, you try to move on. sometimes you think you're really doing it, but it's never quite true. wc: 6.3k (yikes) warnings (18+): angst! w happy ending, but some angst first, smut [unprotected piv, spanking] at the end, avengers tower fic rahhh, lowkey miscommunication, alcohol consumption + hangover, natasha is a good friend, bucky barnes needs a hug, loneliness, self doubt, sam is lowkey a player in this one LOL notes: PSA!! someone requested to be added to my taglist through my req button and i accidentally deleted it bc i apparently can't work computers... anyways please req again if you still want to be added or comment on this post!! sorry for the inconvenience. also thank u all so much for the support on the first part!! enjoy!

Bucky felt... restless. Though he wouldn't ever say it (he doesn't say much nowadays), he knew something was off. Since you two started having sex, you had never turned him down. But now it had happened twice. The first time you said it was because you wanted to do a sleepover with Nat, and the second you didn't even try to make up an excuse. Something was off.

"Hey, Buck." Steve's voice pulled Bucky out of his thoughts as Steve sat down beside him on the quinjet.

Bucky pushed aside his thoughts about you. "Hey," he said, briefly looking at Steve before turning elsewhere.

"These flights back are always long. Especially when it was already a long mission," Steve said after a beat of silence.

"I've been on longer," Bucky said, eyes fixed on some point straight ahead.

Steve sighed at that, sitting back further in the seat as he breathed out. "Yeah... how have you been doing?"

"I'm fine."

"Really?"

Bucky paused before turning towards Steve, who was already looking at him. "Yeah."

"I'd have agreed with you up until a few days ago. You were doing well but something changed a few days before the trip," Steve said earnestly. Though Bucky's knee-jerk reaction was to shut down and stay silent for the rest of the flight, the sincerity in Steve's eye has him pausing before sighing.

"I'm sort of seeing someone..." Bucky forces out the words like it pains him to do so. Talking about something like this feels so foreign to him now.

Steve's eyebrows jump up at the admission. His surprise eventually stutters into a small smile. "Well, that's... that's good, isn't it?"

"It was, I think, but something's changed in the last few days, I don't know... She won't really talk to me," Bucky says, looking down at his hands when Steve's face changes.

"Oh well Buck, that doesn't necessarily mean somethings wrong. How long have you guys been going out?"

Bucky stays quiet for a moment too long, knowing that his next works won't yield a positive reaction. "We're not exactly going out."

Steve takes a minute to understand Bucky's meaning. Bucky looks up from his hands and has to give an ashamed nod for Steve to finally understand.

"Oh, Bucky, you don't even take her out first?" Steve asks incredulously.

"It just sort of happened and she said she was okay with it," Bucky says quietly.

"Has she said that recently? Because I think I'm starting to see why she hasn't been talking to you," Steve says. "Listen, I'm not saying you propose or anything, but if this girl means something to you, just, you know, check in. Make sure you're both still on the same page with this arrangement."

Bucky sighs because he knows Steve is right. You had seemed okay with this arrangement as Steve calls it but you didn't seem okay a few days ago. And it wasn't like he'd really stuck around to talk after your rendezvous.

As the plane begins its descent, Bucky is left with a feeling of guilt gnawing at him. He hadn't realized how badly he'd fucked up. Of course you were pulling away, he barely looked at you unless you were fucking. He knew he needed to do better, but he didn't know how.

Meanwhile, back at the tower, you had spent most of the past week throwing yourself into your work. Luckily, Tony had a new project he was working on that kept you busy. But by around day five, the work had slowed. Tony had flown to D.C. for something or other and told you to take a few days to work on something else.

Unfortunately, all of your other work seemed to slow down too. For the first time in your life, you were frustrated with the lack of things on your plate. By the morning of the day Bucky was coming back, there was nothing to distract you from the feeling that had wrapped around your heart, a frown tugging at your face.

You didn't want to feel like this anymore. You wanted to feel excited and loved and not like a convenient, breathing fuck toy. Luckily, you came to this realization on a Friday night, just minutes before Lucy, who worked in Pepper's office, came up to invite you out.

She usually did this a few times a month, asking if you wanted to go out with some of the other young twenty-somethings who worked in Avengers Tower. You usually said no. Lucy was a nice girl, but the idea of lounging in your own bed sounded a lot better than drinking overpriced cocktails with your coworkers.

However, she caught you at the right time on this Friday evening, because you knew the plane with Bucky on it would be landing within the next few hours. And you didn't want to be sulking in your room when it did. So when Lucy comes knocking on the lab room door, you surprise the both of you by saying you'd love to join them.

And that's how you end up in some random bar in Chelsea sipping a $22 fruity concoction listening to Daniel from Research talk about his most recent run in with the Captain America. It's interesting to hear the way he, and everyone else in the group, talk about the Avengers. Though you'd never forgotten they were a group of incredibly powerful individuals, you'd also come to know them as roommates and friends of sorts.

Lucy's voice draws you back to the conversation as she says your name. You look up from your half-empty glass to find everyone's eyes on you.

"You're pretty close with them, aren't you?" she says.

"Oh, um I guess, I mean not super close but--"

"Oh come on!" Jenn, also from the office of Pepper Potts, interrupts you. "Don't be so coy. You sleep like five feet from them."

You laugh awkwardly. "Yeah, I guess I do..." You trail off, though every eye at the table is still fixated on you. Realizing that you're going to need to offer up a bit more for them to move on, you continue: "I don't know, they're just people. Really powerful people obviously, but they've all been very nice and welcoming since I moved in."

"All of them?" Lucy asks with a raised brow. "Even the Winter Solider?"

Your breath catches in your throat at the name. "Bucky?"

"Mr. Tall, Dark, and Crazy?" Jenn says with a laugh.

You down two mouthfuls of your sugary drink as you think on your reply.

"He's good. He's fine," you say, though you swear you can feel your face is heating up just at the mention of his name.

"Oh he's fine alright," Jenn whispers, taking another sip of her drink.

You struggle to keep your face normal at the statement, hiding behind your glass as your stomach drops. As Lucy laughs at Jenn's words, you force a tight smile even though you think you may be sick.

You get back to the tower after midnight. Though you had managed to get back into normal conversation once the topic switched from Bucky, the tightness in your stomach never quite loosened. That in combination with the sugary drinks left you on edge as you took the elevator up to the residence floor.

Thankfully, the floor is dark, the common room empty. You tip toe your way to your room, like you're a teenager sneaking back into their parents' house. Once you get to your room, you take a longer-than-usual shower, hoping it will set you up for morning of few regrets.

Bucky is up early, like usual. They had landed around 9:30 p.m. and everyone else had pretty much gone straight to bed, tired from the long mission and even longer flight. Bucky, on the other hand, had planned on talking to you that night. He looked around the kitchen and common area, before knocking on your door. No response.

He had tried again, softly calling your name through the door in hopes you'd open up but to no avail. Once he'd realized you weren't going to open up, he had walked down the hall to sleep. But sleep did not find him that night.

He had laid wide awake for a few hours, mulling over every time he'd refused to meet your eyes or left without saying a word. But then at about 12:30, he heard something down the hall. It was quiet. A little shuffle of footsteps, like someone had stumbled in loud shoes or something.

Bucky had gotten out of bed immediately, sliding right up beside the door to listen closer. He heard a fumbling movement and then the soft lock of a door. He waited another minute with baited breath but heard nothing. He decided to just take a walk down the hall to see if anything stood out to him.

His legs carried him to your door as if on instinct. He found himself just standing there, staring at your shut door as he had done hours earlier. But now he heard the faint noise of your shower running.

Oh. The understanding came together in his mind quickly. You had been out when he knocked earlier. Just coming home now at almost 1:00 a.m. and immediately getting into the shower... just as you did after one of your rendezvous with him.

Bucky turned on his heel once he put the last piece in place. He went straight back to his room where he shut his eyes in the name of sleep, though it continued to evade him for the rest of the night.

Despite his lack of sleep though, Bucky is up early, like usual. He goes to the training room like normal, though he spends a lot more time in there than he usually does. He's got some pent-up feelings to work off.

When he's done with his training, he heads back up to get some breakfast. As he's about to enter the common room, though, he hears something that makes him stop dead in his tracks. He stands flat against the wall as your voice floats towards him from the otherwise quiet room.

"I don't know. It was nice to get out. I hadn't done that in a while."

"Do you think you'll do it again?" Bucky recognized the voice to be Natasha's.

"Maybe. I think."

"Well, I think you should. You don't get out enough. And especially since--" Natasha's voice drops in volume. "You know, you ended things with Barnes."

Record scratch. Ended things? Bucky's mind is going a mile a minute trying to understand those words but he stops to listen to what you say next.

"Yeah." You breathe out the word like you've deflating. Bucky can't listen to you anymore. He silently slips back down the hall, deciding he'll just shower in locker room instead.

This all happens unbeknownst to you, who is sitting on the couch nursing a bottle of water as you fight through one hell of a hangover. Damn cocktails.

"Yeah. I haven't really been thinking about anything besides him. I knew I didn't want to be here when y'all got back. Definitely not looking forward to the next time I see him," you continue, unaware that Natasha is once again your sole audience.

Natasha hums in agreement.

Bucky is lost. Not location-wise, obviously (he's currently sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the wall). No, he's lost in thought as the words loop in his mind. You ended things with Barnes.

Sure, you two hadn't hooked up in almost two weeks. You hadn't spoken since, well. There usually wasn't a whole lot of talking when you two were together. But ended things? It was over? You had just decided that... without even talking to him? Just as the thought crosses his mind, he stops. Maybe it was the right thing to do. It wasn't like he had talked to you about his feelings. And you sounded happy now, didn't you? You said it was nice to get out and do something else. You were building a life outside of the tower and that was good, wasn't it?

Bucky nods to himself. Yes, this was the best thing for you. It was your decision and you had made it. So he would live with your decision. No matter how much he missed the smile on your face when you'd open the door to see him, or the feel of your warm, soft body against his. Far too soft and comfortable for someone like him. This was how it should be. Or at least that's what he told himself when that little voice in the back of his mind said he was just being a coward and he should just talk to you and tell you all these things. No, no, this was the right thing to do.

So, he left you alone. He didn't knock on your door again. He didn't come around the lab. Around others, he treated you the same he always had. Distant, reserved, avoiding contact of any kind. He left you alone.

You started to forget what he felt like. What it was like when he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer. When his head would fall against yours and he felt impossibly close, all you wanted to do was keep him there. And then when he left you alone.

You started telling yourself it was just a crush that had spiraled out of control. You were just getting over it and that was fine. Dreams of a man with tousled brown hair and sad eyes were just a coincidence, even when you woke up with a pit in your stomach.

But as the weeks went on, the pit got smaller. You had agreed to keep going to drinks with Lucy and had even come to enjoy it. You had switched your drink order and just laugh when they brought up having a crush on any of the Avengers.

On your fifth Friday out with them, Jenn had invited Mark, a seemingly nice guy from Research. He was cute enough and had slipped into Lucy's seat next to you when she went to the bathroom halfway through the night. You had been on your third drink and he had taken to whispering overly-sweet compliments into your ear. So when he asked if you wanted to get together just the two of you the next day, you'd said yes and entered your number into his phone.

As you got ready the next evening, you couldn't fight the nerves in your stomach. What a great idea this had been last night.

"No, you are not talking yourself out of this," Nat said from your bed as you stood in front of your mirror, tugging at the dress that just didn't seem to fit you right anymore.

"I didn't even say anything," you said defensively as you looked at her through the mirror.

"You didn't have to. You've been pulling at the hem of that dress for five minutes." She got up from the bed and leaned against the wall to look directly at you.

You sighed. "It's been a while since I've gone a date. What if it doesn't go well?"

"Why would it not go well?" She asks, narrowing her eyes at you.

"I don't know, what if I--"

"There's your problem," she says, cutting you off. "If it doesn't go well, it is not your fault. You're just going on a date, okay? This isn't an interview. You're just getting to know him... And you deserve to get to know other people."

The look Nat gives you after the last sentence is too much to bear. You look away from, back at the dress, and you know it isn't the problem. It's not the dress, it's not the fear of saying the wrong thing. It's the guy from your dreams, the one with tousled brown hair and sad eyes.

"Listen, just go on the date. See if there's a possibility for something. You two may have literally no chemistry and he could be a dick, and then you won't even have to worry about the what-ifs that I can see are already spinning around in your head. Just try it out. If you hate it, leave. If you really hate it, call me and I'll beat him up."

You laugh. "Okay, I will. I am."

"It's gonna be fine," she says, matching your smile.

And it was. It was fine... it was perfectly fine. The food had been good. The restaurant was nice... But you could have sworn Mark was cuter the night before. And funnier. And more interesting.

He had told you that you looked great in your dress in about twenty different ways. He had talked about his research. He asked you some of the usual fan questions you always get when people find out you work and live in such close proximity to the Avengers. Eventually the conversation switched to regular first-date topics like school and family and hobbies. Everything was fine. On paper, it should have been a good date. But you just didn't feel it.

At the end of the night, you let him walk you back to the tower, but you didn't invite him up. You said you had had a nice time and let him kiss you on the cheek. Then you sped walked to through the lobby to the elevator, never stopping and looking back at him.

It wasn't too late by the time you got back and you found Natasha waiting for you in the kitchen. When she saw it was you coming off the elevator, she grinned. Unfortunately the grin fell as she saw your unimpressed expression.

"Didn't go so well?" She asked as you set your purse on the counter with a huff.

You took a deep breath before answering. "It was... fine. Okay. I don't know. He was a perfectly okay guy, but..." you let your voice trail off. As you do, you swear that you hear a creak from the hallway, but when no one appears, you continue, though at a lower volume. "I didn't feel it you know? I just wasn't-- he wasn't..."

"Wasn't Bucky?" Natasha offers. And it's the straw that breaks the camel's back. You drop your head as you feel your throat tighten in that telltale way.

"I just wish he had really wanted me," you whisper.

"Oh, honey," Nat whispers as she wraps her arms around you. You fall against her as the tears start to flow. She rubs circles on your back as she softly shushes you. You stay like that for a minute, before you feel her shift. You're too busy trying to not loudly sob to figure out what she's doing but then you hear her say, "Come on, let's go sit in my room."

With that, she reaches over and grabs your purse, keeping one arm around you as she walks you to her room down the hall.

It was an accident. Really, it was. Bucky did not mean to eavesdrop on you talking to Natasha about your date. Not that he knew about your date. Sure, he thought he had overheard Nat telling Steve you were nervous for your date with Mark, some loser--sorry, some guy-- from Research. But he really didn't mean for this to happen. He just happened to be standing out in the hallway when you came home. He may have silently walked to the edge of the hall and listened intently. It was an accident.

Well, no, the real accident was when Sam had bumped into Bucky on his way to the kitchen and nearly blown Bucky's cover. Bucky's hand had shot out and pulled Sam back into the dark shadow of the hall, quickly putting his hand over his mouth in a signal to hush.

"Man, what the hell--" Sam whispered.

"Shh! Shut up," Bucky practically hissed back.

"What?" Sam mouthed back.

Bucky made the hush signal again before going back to listening. Sam leans in to listen as well, hearing your voice as you say:

"I didn't feel it you know? I just wasn't-- he wasn't…"

"Wasn't Bucky?" Nat's voice flows in. There's a beat of silence. Sam's head snaps towards Bucky accusatorially.

"'Wasn't Bucky?'" he mouths. Bucky shushes him.

"I just wish he had really wanted me." The words hit Bucky like a bullet. He can hear the pain in your voice and he quiet sniffles and sobs that he hears in the following moments are salt in the wound. He looks down in shame. And then reality hits him.

Well, actually it's Sam that hits him. The light slap is muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Bucky looks up to see Sam glaring at him. Sam is about to say something but is interrupted by Natasha loudly announcing that she's taking you to her bedroom.

Sam and Bucky both recognize what that means and jump into action. They quickly but quietly scurry to the open door of Sam's bedroom.

As soon as the door is (softly) shut behind them, Sam has jumped into action: "Alright, what the hell is this about? What did you do?"

Bucky scoffs and looks away.

"No, seriously, man. Why is she crying?" When Bucky doesn't answer, Sam crosses his arms. "I can wait."

"I fucked up," Bucky sighs.

"Yeah, I can tell. Now how are you gonna fix it?"

"I thought she was happy," Bucky mumbles. Sam stops his pacing and looks at Bucky like he's the dumbest man alive.

"Are you serious right now?"

Bucky looks back at Sam. "She seemed like she was doing well. She was going on dates and--" Bucky's defensiveness dies out as quickly as it started. "I fucked up and I don't know what to do."

This is how Nat found Sam and Bucky, just a few minutes later; Sam giving Bucky ideas for extravagant gifts to buy you or fancy restaurants to take you to.

"What the hell are y'all planning?" she asked after Sam had tentatively opened the door, attempting to hide Bucky behind it. "A diamond necklace? Seriously, Sam?"

She pushed him aside and shut the door behind her, making a B-line for Bucky, who sat looking a little terrified on the edge of Sam's bed.

"You are an idiot," she said, pointing her finger directly at him. Bucky looks at Sam for help. "Seriously? Sam? When is the last time he had a girlfriend for more than a week?"

Bucky can't think of any retorts to that, so he just frowns at Sam who puts his hands up defensively.

"Eyes on me, you idiot," Natasha snaps. "Listen, she's in my room crying right now because of you. Now, I told her I was going to get a glass of water. But actually, you're going to get her a glass of water. And you're going to tell her how you feel about her. Okay?"

"I thought--" Bucky mumbles.

"Stop being dumb," Natasha interrupts him. He nods and murmurs a quiet "okay." Natasha sighs, happy with the progress she's made.

"Alright, now come on. Get up. She's been waiting five minutes for her glass of water..." she pauses as Bucky rises from the bed and begins walking to the door. "And she's been waiting a few months for the other thing too."

Bucky can't look Natasha in the eye anymore after that. He walks out of the room with his shoulders hung in defeat. He walks down the hall, past Natasha's bedroom door, which he finds to be open. His heart rate jumps as he peers into the room. He scans the room from outside, but doesn't see anyone in there.

He forgets the glass of water, poking his head inside the room to see if you're anywhere in there. No. He checks the bathroom too. No one. You're not in there. Just as he's about to leave to check the kitchen, Natasha walks in behind him.

"Hey, uh, she's not here," Nat says, her face cautious as she grips her phone in her hand. "She texted me."

Natasha holds the phone out for Bucky to take. He takes it and reads the most recent messages from you:

10:33 p.m. hey, sorry for leaving but i can't be here right now. thank u for being there for me tonight.

10:34 p.m. i'm going out with lucy, so don't wait up. maybe i'll get lucky and find someone at the bar...

10:34 p.m. we can talk more tomorrow but i judt can't think about the bucky thing anymore tonight

Bucky hands the phone back to Natasha without another word. He doesn't speak to Sam, who's leaning on his doorframe watching as it happens, either. He just goes to his room where he can be alone.

But he can't sleep. Of course he can't sleep. The sound of your voice when you were talking earlier... like you were broken. Like he'd broken you. All he could think about were the hushed sniffles and sobs. The pain he had caused you.

And now you were out god knows where, thinking he hated you. Thinking you meant nothing to him. And it was all his fault. He pushed you away every time you tried to get him to open up. He used you and he left, like you were his own personal sex doll. When things got quiet, when the passion was over, he couldn't face the music. He couldn't just hold you because then maybe he'd have to do something about it. He'd have to tell you about the things he'd done and how he wasn't a good man and how lost he was. So he didn't say anything and now he'd lost you. Now he'd hurt you. He couldn't live with that.

He gets up from his bed, where he's been laying and staring at the ceiling for hours. He walks out into the hallway and then into the kitchen. The large windows dimly light the room with lights from the city that never sleeps. He just stares out the window for a moment, watching the headlights flash by on the street below, flickering like stars. He lets himself get lost in the stop-go of the taxis, the green-yellow-red of the traffic lights.

He's pulled out of his haze by the sound of the elevator whirring up the floor. He moves over to the shadowy corner of the kitchen, watching as the elevator doors open. He can't make out who it is at first, but then he hears the clumsy shuffling of heels and the sound of a purse hitting the ground and spilling.

"Aw man!"

Once he hears your pathetic exclamation, he breathes a little bit easier. He sees you lazily drop to the floor as you start picking up the contents of your purse and immediately walks over to help you.

It takes you a second to realize someone else is helping pick up your credit card and lip gloss, but, when you realize who it is, your face breaks out in the biggest grin.

"Bucky!" You exclaim, dropping the crumpled five dollar bill you had just picked up as you throw your arms around his neck. Immediately he smells the strong scent of alcohol clouding your usual perfume. He carefully pulls your arms from around his neck and pulls you to your feet, giving you a once-over to make sure you're okay. Though your dress has ridden up quite a bit and you seem less than stable in your heels, you don't seem to be injured. In fact, you're the happiest he's seen you in a very long time.

"Do I look good?" you ask with a lazy smile once he meets your eyes again.

"You look beautiful," he answers honestly. The sincerity in his voice makes your face flush. He keeps his hands on your forearms as he carefully guides you to sit on one of the barstools. He then picks up everything from the floor and puts it back in your purse, setting that on the stool beside you.

"Are you gonna ask me about my night?" You say, though a little slurred.

"How was your night?" Bucky asks as he grabs a glass from the cabinet and fills it up with water.

"Well, it was good, I guess. I had a vodka tonic, well I mean I had several vodka tonics. But they were good. Well, no they were disgusting." Bucky huffs as laugh at your honest delivery, setting the glass of water in front of you. You immediately take several large gulps, not having realized until that moment how thirty you are. "They were gross but they were strong, and that's what really mattered tonight."

Your smile drops immediately. Like the mention of tonight brings back memories of earlier in the evening. Before the vodka tonics, when you were crying over the man who was now fetching you glasses of water.

Bucky notices the change in your demeanor and changes the subject. "How did you get home?" he asks.

You wave him off. "Don't worry, I took a cab. Lucy called me one. She had been trying to fix me up with some guy but he was lame. You know, like I just don't want that." You sigh dramatically, leaning your face against your hand as you stare at Bucky with a frown. "I just want you, Bucky."

Bucky is quiet for a second before whispering, "I know."

"So then why don't you do anything about it?" you say softly. The look on your face nearly breaks Bucky's heart. Your eyes, though looking a little lost due to the alcohol, have a sadness behind them. Bucky doesn't respond. He just takes your now almost empty glass and refills it with water. He then comes around and puts your purse on his arm, wrapping the other one around your.

"Come on, sweetheart," he murmurs as he picks up the water glass in his free hand and begins walking you to your room.

When you get there, you immediately lay down on your floor. Bucky sighs, placing the water on your bedside table and your purse next to your bed.

"What are you doing?" he asks when he turns back to you, who is sprawled out on your rug, head resting on your arm.

"I'm dirty, Bucky. I can't lay on my bed in this dress," you mumble, eyes beginning to shut as exhaustion overcomes you.

Bucky sighs and goes into your bathroom, turning on the shower. He comes back in and begins undoing the straps on your heels, carefully sliding them off your feet and tucking them beside your dresser. You watch as he does all of this, eyes fighting desperately against sleep.

"Bucky, what're you doing?" you ask when he hooks one arm under yours and another under your legs. He lifts you up, careful to not bump your head on your bed, and carries you into your bathroom.

He sets you down gently, letting you lean against your sink as he checks the water temperature. You begin pulling the straps of your dress down as he turns around, causing him to avert his eyes down to the floor.

"Oh, don't be so shy, Bucky. You've seen it all before," you say as you roll your eyes, continuing to pull the dress down until it pools at your feet. You let your underwear fall too before sliding past Bucky, who is still staring intently at the tile on the floor, before hopping in the shower.

You wash your body, though somewhat sloppily, and clean the makeup off your face. It's all sort of a blur and you accidentally knock over your shampoo twice.

Bucky, who had left the room as soon as you were in the shower, was sitting on the chair in your room. The chair had previously held a pile of clothes that you had gone through while deciding what you would wear on your date. That pile now sat in Bucky's lap.

After you finish showering, you lazily dried off, shivering as you wrap the towel around your body. Bucky perks up as you walk out of the bathroom. While you can feel the effects of the alcohol wearing off, you're still not all there.

"Hey," you say with a smile as you walk over to your dresser, which sits right beside the chair that Bucky now occupies.

"Hey," he says, though somewhat awkwardly. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm good," you giggle. You fumble with your drawer a few times before pulling out clean underwear and some pajamas to wear. Bucky averts his eyes again as toss the towel onto your bed and pull on the fresh clothes. You practically flop into your bed after, sleep tugging at you yet again.

Bucky stands and takes the towel off your bed, covering you with your comforter instead. He takes the towel into the bathroom and picks up your dress and underwear while there, placing them in the hamper.

By the time he's done, you've attempted to scoot up in your bed, eyes watching him intently like you can't decide if he's real or a figment of your imagination.

"Bucky?" you say after he's placed your dirty clothes in the laundry basket.

"Yeah?" he asks, shifting awkwardly under the weight of your stare.

"I wanna talk to you," you say. He's not exactly sure what you mean so he just walks over a little closer to your bed, looking down at where you lay, your eyes blinking heavily. Something about having him so close to you again, has you wanting to tell him everything you'd wished you'd said.

"I miss you, Bucky. Why couldn't you want me like how I wanted you? Why'd you leave?" You don't realize you're crying until Bucky wipes the tears from under your eyes.

"I--" it's like the words are stuck in Bucky's throat. But he won't let it stay like this. "I'm so sorry for how I treated you. I do want you, sweetheart, but I couldn't-- I couldn't, I don't know how to do it. I don't know how to do it right and you don't deserve anything less than right."

"It doesn't have to be perfect, Bucky. I just want you. I want you to be here and not leave me, I just want you to want me. I don't wanna be used, Bucky," you say, surprisingly coherent considering how much you've drank.

"I know... I'm sorry." He watches as your eyes close and slowly open again in what may be the history's longest blink. He smiles softly as you struggle to keep your eyes open. "We can talk about this tomorrow," he whispers.

"I hope I remember this tomorrow," you whisper.

With that, you're out like a light. You think Bucky may have given you a light kiss on the forehead, but honestly you may have dreamt it. When you wake up the next morning, you're not too hungover, but definitely foggy. When you see Bucky asleep in your chair with a pile of clothes on his lap, you definitely have some questions.

You try to be quiet getting out of bed and going into your bathroom, praying that the flush of your toilet won't be too loud as to wake him up (and also because you're currently paying for those "few" vodka tonics with a headache).

You find a some ibuprofen in your medicine cabinet and pop two before drinking some water from the sink. When you come out of the bathroom, Bucky is still sitting in the chair, but now he's up and groggily rubbing at his eyes. He looks up when you open the bathroom door.

"Hey. Uh, how do you feel?" he asks.

You squint your eyes. "Fine, just a little pounding up here," you motion at your head. "You slept in the chair?"

He looks down at where he's sat like he has to remember where he is. "Oh. I did. I, uh, I wanted to be here in case you needed something." The truth was, Bucky had slept better sitting up right in this uncomfortable chair watching you sleep than he had any other night for the past month.

You smile softly. "Well, that's very sweet of you." You go over to your dresser to find some clothes to change into, but you pause. "I remember last night. Thank you for, you know, helping me. I was a bit of a mess," you say softly.

Bucky watches you as you look down at your dresser, refusing to look at him. "You're welcome. I... do you want to talk?"

It's like you've been waiting months to hear him say that. With a sad smile on your face, you look at him and nod.

epilogue:

"Fuck!"

Bucky's hands grip your hips as he thrusted into you. He has your legs folded up against your chest so he can hit that perfect spot.

"I know, sweetheart," Bucky groaned above you. You feel your pussy clench around him at the sweet sound of his voice. He takes one hand off to start rubbing your clit, causing you to moan loudly. You feel yourself getting closer and closer, finally going over the edge when he slaps your ass, his hand then immediately going to soothe the irritated spot.

Your cunt clenches and spasms around his cock, squeezing him until he starts cumming with you, his cock twitching inside you as his cum fills you up.

Damn, you had missed him.

note: okay! this genuinely took me hours! i wrote it in various states so sorry for any not-so-great parts. so difficult to write steve and bucky interacting and not be subtexting stucky. those two... lowkey wrote part of this hungover so you can see why sugary drinks catch a lot of strays in this one.

thank you all so much for the love and support on the first part! truly means so much and it's what compelled me to really lock in on this part today.

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[elizawritestoo]

just commented a million freaking times under the wrong blog and had to redo them all. so done. and i accidentally deleted a request to be added to my taglist through my inbox... get me off this damn computer please

me in a few minutes if this damn computer doesn't stop pmo ⬆️

BUT IN OTHER NEWS... HAPPY 400 FOLLOWERS!!!! i can't express how thankful i am for all of you, it's actually insane that many people read my work and like it enough to follow! thank you all so much, your support is truly what keeps me going when i am out of motivation (like recently)

part 2 of slice of heaven coming out feb. 1 !!! 🩷🩵