Summary: If you looked up “hangry” in the dictionary, there would be a picture of your super-soldier, metal-armed boyfriend and determining which sort of hunger has him moping is your speciality.
Warning: drinking, smut
Summary: As a personal trainer, you’re accustomed to all sorts of uncomfortable propositions. What you’re not accustomed to is men trying to get to know you before those propositions come.
Warning: Sexism, uncomfortable and unwanted flirting
Summary: As the head chocolatier at New York’s finest confectionery, your life is unbearably sweet. Then a tall, dark haired man stumbles into your life and takes you on a date that quickly turns sour.
Warning: Language, violent evil doers
A/N: Read part two here: Honey Scented Dreams
Honey Scented Dreams
Summary: Having admitted his involvement with the Avengers, and apologized half a dozen times for the masked man that tried to kidnap you on your first date, you invite Sam back to your apartment to test your newest flavors.
Warning: Language, smut
A/N: Read part one here: Cocoa Butter Kisses
Summary: You met Bucky when he was still the Winter Soldier and you were still a prisoner. Now, reunited by the Avengers, you’re unsurprised to realize he doesn’t remember you.
Warning: Past abuse / torture, PTSD, language
A/N: Ama tried to pull one over on me and make me go angsty, but I am too fluffy for that 😘
Let’s Fall In Love For Tonight (and forget in the morning)
Let’s Fall In Love For Tonight (and forget in the morning)
Summary: It takes way too many shots for you and Sam Wilson to end up in each other’s beds, and it takes way too many repetitions for either of you to remember it the next morning.
Warning: lots of alcohol, lots of smut, lots of feelings
A/N: Written as “The Five Times You . . .” drabble series
Summary: Despite being madly and completely in love with Steve, you haven’t torn down every wall around your heart. Following the very public arrest of your ex, however, it all comes crash down.
Warning: Past abuse, PTSD, hella fluff tho
A/N: Please, if you are in or have been in an abusive relationship, do not hesitate to reach out for help. I am always here if any of you need to talk, about absolutely anything. The National Abuse Hotline is 1-800-799-7233.
Summary: After a fight with Steve ends with you storming from the apartment, you begin to wonder if the challenges that face you are too big to face
Warning: Angsty fluff, and straight angst for like half a scene
A/N: Based on this song
Summary: Despite both being spies yourself, you and Natasha find it surprisingly difficult to keep your secret from the rest of the team.
Warning: Language, a wee lil bit of angst, but like just for half a second
A/N: Written as a “The Five Times You Almost Got Caught”
Summary: With the newlywed hunting humans caught, you and Dean Winchester need to address the drunken vows that neither of you can remember.
A/N: It’s taken a hoe (me, I’m the hoe) literally four years, BUT HERE IT IS
You traced the pink, puckered scar that dragged down your abdomen and across your hip. It was an angry reminder that not every monster was actually a monster. Some were . . . human.
Annie and Henry had done it before. Each year for their anniversary, in fact. Eight couples in eight days in different cities around the world for twenty years. It had been nothing more than bad luck (for them) that you’d been in Vegas for your first vacation in years, that Sam had happened to talk to someone from Mount Charleston, and that you and Dean had said your drunken vows.
“Does it still hurt?” His fingers reached out to trace the scar just behind yours. It had been three weeks before Dean allowed you to even leave the room without him and twice as long before you could leave the bunker. Even now you could see the guilt and worry in his eyes.
“Not physically.”
“I liked her too,” he said after a beat of silence. Annie’s face looming over you had been worse than the cut itself. She had been so kind, and you had liked her in spite of the red flags her eager invitation had raised. Dean took your left hand in his, playing with the ring you still wore.
He hadn’t taken his off either. Neither of you had brought it up in the months following your run in with the serial killers. It had seemed unimportant then, such a trivial detail after your near death and the (sober) night together that had followed it.
– – –
“So get–“ You ignored Sam’s voice and the opening of the door, hands running down Dean’s chest before slipping beneath his shirt. “I’ll, uhm, I mean, uh, bye,” Sam stammered, neither you nor Dean paying any attention.
The sudden slam of the door, however, had caused you both to laugh. “Do you think we should apologize?” you asked, breathless as Dean moved his lips away from yours to trace down your neck. He was careful to avoid the fresh stitches, but the adrenaline had yet to wear off and you weren’t sure it would hurt anyway.
“Sam should know the risks he takes walking in on newlyweds without knocking,” Dean answered, silencing you with a kiss before you could question him again. “Sam should know the risks he takes walking in on you and me without knocking.”
– – –
“Are you ready for dinner?” Dean asked. You couldn’t help the smile that lit your face when he asked. Once you had healed enough to freely leave the bunker – and then waited another two weeks for Dean to agree that you had healed enough to freely leave the bunker – he had begun taking you to dinner every week, even during weeks when you were hunting.
More often than not, Sam would sequester himself to the library while Dean laid out a blanket on the floor or a tablecloth over the kitchen table and treated you to the latest recipe he’d discovered. During hunts, he would whatever meal you’d been craving and bring a movie to the hotel room you all shared and tell Sam to eat in his bed instead of on the couch with the two of you.
Dean had been . . . cautious on those nights. Holding your hand or wrapping his arms around your shoulders, but never leaning in to kiss you unless you moved toward him first. Instead he would fill the night with questions and honesty, asking you about your family, about yourself, and answering whatever questions you posed in return. The dinners never ended in either of your beds – although plenty of other nights did – and he had made a habit of reminding you that he “truly cared about you” before he left you at the door to your bedroom and disappeared inside your own.
It had taken a few weeks before you realized what was happening. Dean was dating you. Proper courting, dating you. Although the rings had gone unacknowledged, something had undeniably shifted. You no longer had two separate lives, but an unconventionally and admittedly confusingly tangled single life. Apparently, without vocal acknowledgement, you had decided together that the easiest way to untangle the mess you’d found yourselves in was to continue forward with the, again unspoken, acknowledgement that neither of you regretted it.
You and Dean had started dating, without ever saying a word to each other.
“What’s on the menu tonight?” you asked, standing and allowing the flannel with missing buttons to cover your scar again.
“A picnic.”
– – –
Sounds native to the countryside that had become home filled the air as you watched the sun set, content to lean against the man next to you and the impala behind him in comfortable silence. It had been the perfect picnic. Dean had bought your favorite sandwiches. You weren’t sure how he had slipped out of the bunker without you noticing, but he driven to town to get them. He had even stopped by the liquor store.
You felt a soft kiss in your hair before he spoke, and you shifted in his hold until you could look into his eyes. “You know how much I care about you, don’t you?” You ignored the pang of uncertainty at his words. It was always care and never love.
“As much as I care about you.” The silence that followed your words served only to intensify the ache to admit it was more than caring, but you were patient. You always had been with Dean.
Dean had been so careful with you since Annie and Henry. He had carried you around the bunker the first few days, refusing to let you stand on your own. He always hovered near you on hunts, although he knew better than to stop you from fighting. He was simultaneously softer and harder when you trained.
But the change hadn’t only been physical. You might not have noticed if it had been. Dean was always protective, and even more so after an injury, but it was more than that. He would speak slowly, as if weighing what each word meant. He was slow to respond when you reached out to him and quick to ensure it was what you truly wanted. He fought against his instinct to close himself off and forced vulnerability between you. You could see the battle in his eyes each time you asked him about himself.
– – –
You were lying in the bed of the honeymoon suite, half dressed, as Dean tended to the cut that had begun bleeding again. “Do you really not remember anything about that night in Vegas?” you asked, struggling to distract yourself from the sharp sting of his fingers.
“Nothing . . .” You could tell he was far more focused on his fingers than your conversation, and you struggled to think of some way to force him into saying more as pain momentarily clouded the room. “Just waking up next to a beautiful woman I somehow tricked into my bed.” His voice was quiet, distracted, as if he hadn’t realized that he said anything out loud.
His words surprised you. Enough that you didn’t feel him pressing wrapping a bandage around your middle until it caught against your fresh stitches. You hissed, and his eyes jumped to yours, suddenly focused again. “Am I hurting you?” he asked. There was nothing in the way he looked at you that hinted at the admission he’d just made. That he felt he had tricked you into his bed; that it wasn’t something you had wanted as well. Maybe he hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud.
– – –
His quiet voice tore you from your reminiscing, from your reminder that Dean had believed you’d woken up in Vegas regretting him. He spoke slowly, brow furrowed in concentration as if struggled to find the right words, or struggling to remember them. He wouldn’t meet your eyes. “After . . . everything that happened . . . waking up in Vegas . . . then nearly . . . nearly losing you . . . I wanted to be careful.” With this admission, something changed. Dean held you close to his side, and a hand rose to cup your cheek, his fingers playing along your temple as he continued. “There were so many questions, so many things we couldn’t talk about . . . but those things don’t really matter, and all that matters is that I love you and I need you to hear me say it.”
You didn’t hesitate, didn’t give him a moment to wonder if you had regretted him all those months before. “I love you too.”
– – –
Part One: Vegas Lights
Part Two: Desert Stars
Part Three: Neon Signs
Summary: Bucky has been planning this proposal for months, but when the night finally comes it feels like the entire universe conspires to keep you from getting engaged.
Warning: Hella awkward, deffo language
Summary: When you wake up naked in Steve’s room without Steve, but with hazy memories of the night before, you struggle to piece together what exactly happened between you and your leader before your forced to confront him at training.
Warning: Language, almost smut, way too much introspection
I’ve always been open about how I got into writing. But have I mentioned who helped me write me first few stories. Was the most amazing peach sitting on my shoulder helping me along? Was even my first friend on here.
Have you peaches checked out @writingruna? Lizzie helped me from the very beginning when I was reading her Bucky series. She helped me write and put together my first three series to ever come out on here. This whole blog, all this work, is really thanks to her.
She’s back on the blog a little more now, I encourage you to go check out her work. Hit her up with ideas, she’s offering stories during this crazy and unsettling time. Yes I’m promoting her blog with no shame that I’m bias. I still got mad love for her.
Summary: After months of petty arguments and outright avoidance of your feelings, waking up naked in Bucky’s bed forces you both to admit the unexpected harmony you bring each other.
Warning: Smutty fluff, but only a lil bit, mostly just fully naked cuddling
A/N: Based on this song
Summary: When an overly excited Scott drops the berry pie you slaved over for hours, it takes serious apologizing to convince you to make another before dinner.
Warning: Language, death of pie, hella fluff, a wee little bit of smut
hi sorry but are you still updating where do the flowers go? I really love it ):
No need to be sorry 🥰
I am trying to! Where Do the Flowers Go was originally intended to be eighteen chapters, but I lost the outline when my computer crashed last summer . . .
Right now, I’m not sure how many more chapters it will be, but I do plan on concluding the story in a way that resolves each of the foreshadowed storylines!
Here also art by @theteacupprinciple (who I think is now @58th-and-madison) that I keep on my phone and have for three years because it makes it happy that someone dreamed up art about something I wrote.
Where Do the Flowers Go Masterlist
Where Do the Flowers Go Deleted Scenes
Also, always remember that for every 1000 words I write, there are another 1000 that don’t make the final draft! I am all about answering your questions, headcannons, or theories about WDtFG – each and every deleted scene came about that way.
