where my thoughts come out as fiction™️

Hi my love! I'm okay!! I appreciate the check-up !🩷

I'm not really sure how to answer this ask, lmao! I guess I suddenly just stopped. I loved writing, I still do so much but with everything going on in my personal life I just never really dedicated an appropriate balance, which is my bad, lol. But I do miss writing dearly, and I planned to make a comeback (I say that as if i'm some superstar) but I've always put it off/and or have been too overwhelmed and scared to start writing again.

Summary: When your competitor for Metropolis’ ‘best journalist’ Lois Lane, becomes sick and has to work from home, Perry assigns both you and Clark Kent to work on an article despite very clear differences between the two of you. But what happens when the article you’re working on makes Clark Kent more than just a co-worker?

WARNINGS:  Arguments, Tension& REALLY LONG. Proof reading.

Word Count: 5k

A/N 🪷: Omg I’ve been such a flop I’ve been gone for like 21928 years and I am so so sorry!! I’m back now, I’ve been caught up with so many exams and exam prep that I just haven’t had the time to fully create something I was satisfied with😭 still, I should’ve announced my temporary hiatus instead of just leaving you guys in the dust for 8 months, and for that I apologise. I hope this makes up for it💀 I should be writing all summer so there are more to come🤭 if you notice any mistakes please do let me know it would help me tremendously! <3 okay love you bye!! 

-

The Elevator doors had barely closed behind you when you had already begun to shrug off your coat. Metropolis was already beginning to snow this time of year and so getting to work safely and on time was beginning to become a challenge for you, especially since the snow had started falling in the early hours of the morning.

After hanging up your coat, you had safely assumed that you were in the clear, and so, began to scurry to your desk. Your heels padding against the new carpet floor in an attempt to get to your desk as fast as possible to avoid Perry noticing you. You had barely made it six steps in when Perry’s door swung open with force. Not a good sign.

"Miss (L/N)! so happy to finally see you,” he sarcastically smiled before he dropped the façade almost instantly.

"In my office. now."

The excuses had already begun to swim around your mind as you approached his office door. Barely acknowledging the second presence in the room you closed the door behind you before you did a double take.

"Perry, no."

Clark Kent, who was tucked away in the very corner of the room cleared his throat in awkwardness, nervously tugging at his brown blazer and refusing to make eye contact with you. If being called into Perry's office wasn't enough confirmation, Clark’s stiffened demeanour was enough to tell you what was about to happen.

"no what?" Perry asked as he sat down on his desk chair, leaning backwards and basking in the scenery of the snow that was falling behind him. If you didn't know any better you'd think Perry was enjoying this.

"your poster girl gets sick and suddenly you miraculously remember you have other writers? hell no."

From the corner of your eye, you could see that Clark was ready to pipe up and say something in defence of Lois, but a sharp glare from you quickly clamped his mouth shut.

You turned to Perry with an eyebrow raised.

"You come in late, I let it slide. And now you're refusing to work? hell, what are you going to do next? demand that I pay you for waking up every day?"

"that would be nice, yeah."

"you're not my second option, (Y/N), never were. Lois picked it up as soon as I mentioned it." he said ignoring your comment, scribbling on his notepad and pushing a thick stack of paper in your direction.

“Exactly,” you agreed letting out a breath of frustration before you continued.

“She wanted it, not me. I’m not picking up her scraps just so she can take all the credit again. And I’m certainly not working with her lover-boy over there.” you finished, pointing to the corner of the room. Flustered, Clark stood up as straight as he could and stood beside you in front of Perry’s desk, his hands tucked inside of his pockets.

“If it’s not too much trouble, I could write the article alone? then Lois can pick it up when she’s better again.” Clark said, with a sense of easiness in his words. Perry pursed his lips and leaned forward again, placing both of his forearms against his desk. There was no bargaining now, when Perry put both his arms on the desk he meant serious business. You let out another frustrated sigh before Perry delved into his speech of scolding.

“I appreciate that Kent, but, Miss (L/N) must remember that she works for me. You don’t want to write a piece? fine. There’s a box under your desk to help you clear it.”

From the corner of your eye you could see Clarks calculating eyes look at you, trying to predict what decision you were going to make next. You shifted under the watch of both pairs of eyes, sighing again before moving towards the door very aware that both men were still watching you.

Although you hated the idea of working with Clark Kent of all people, he was not worth losing your job over and you knew that. Today you’d have to do the hardest thing of all to survive it - swallow your pride. You were just grateful that Lois wasn’t here to witness this, she would revel in your misery.

“Lucky for you this job pays well and rents due in a week.” you said, still facing toward the now open door you were walking out of to spare yourself from more embarrassment.

You heard a breath of relief before Perry called out of his office to you and Clark, who was trailing behind you like a lost puppy.

God, does he do that to every woman he works with?

“I want you and Kent out of the office in ten!”  

-

When you and Clark finally walked out of the office building and into the skin-nipping winter air of Metropolis, an awkward silence filled the air. There was nothing the two of you could really say to each other as you walked along the pavement. Your competitive relationship with Lois greatly affected your relationship with Clark Kent as a consequence, since you and Lois had grown to hate each other so much over your working years at the Daily planet. The clear animosity between the two of you had prevented you and Clark from forming a respectable relationship of your own. Which you didn't mind, as it seemed that Lois had already hypnotised him and turned him over to the dark side.

The sound of the snow crunching underneath your boots filled the silence between the two of you. With the awkward silence hanging over the two of you, it gave you the time to admire just how beautiful metropolis was when it was snowing. The cascading flakes of white crystals followed your every step as the both of you trailed to a snowless street. It was still morning, so the sun was still in the midst of rising and the yellow glow it left on the pilling mounds of snow left you mesmerised - you couldn’t help but let out a hum of content as the sun warmed you up a little.

“I take it you’re someone for the seasons,” Clark spoke, attempting to break the silence between you. His glasses were slightly foggy due to the sudden change of temperature, you swallowed a laugh before the two of you made a sharp turn. You turned to him with furrowed eyebrows.

As much as you hated to admit it, Clark Kent was very attractive. His Cashmere-coloured coat complimented his outfit immaculately as the dark blue colour on his shirt worked in accordance with the tone of his coat, which also weirdly complimented his grey trousers. But that was a truth you were never willing to share with him. Mostly out of fear that he'd probably run and tell his beloved Lois Lane and they'd both spend all evening laughing at your entire existence.

"What?" you asked, looking at him attentively and not quite catching what he had just said, a little shocked that he even broke the silence first. You had both entered a new street now which was much clearer and safer to call a taxi from.

"The snow," he explained, pointing behind him with his thumb to where you both had just walked from. "I take it's your favourite season."

You nodded, too busy with the task of successfully calling a taxi for the both of you to engage in the conversation he was attempting to push forward. You felt bad, but neither you or Clark were particularly the best of friends, so you doubted your silence would affect him that much.

“Yeah, yeah it is,” you said mindlessly, as you successfully managed to call over a yellow taxi. It pulled up to the curb the both of you were standing on. You slipped inside first, exchanging the destination to the driver who had bid you both a good morning. Clark slipped in behind you, almost slamming the door shut. He rubbed his hands aggressively to warm them up and the sound of his hands rubbing together made your eyes close, they sounded soft and you bet they were slightly warm, Clark’s question broke you out of your trance again.

“Am I asking the questions or are you?”

“I’ll ask them. Do you mind scribbling a few bits down, though?” you asked turning from the window and facing Clark, he nodded and throughout the rest of your journey the two of you went over the do’s and don’ts

You found that it was surprisingly much easier to work with Clark than any of the other previous partners Perry had tried to make you work with before. Unlike the others, Clark was attentive, took most of your ideas on board and wasn’t afraid to push forward his own ideas. As much as you hated to admit it, you were beginning to understand why Lois liked him so much. By the time the two of you had briefed everything from questions to the writing style of the article the taxi had already pulled over.

Though this was not your first time visiting the Wayne Enterprises building, it never failed to strike you with awe each time. Craning your neck backwards to digest the full size of the building was always your favourite part of visiting Wayne Enterprises, even more so the thrill of entering the building with your notepad and pencil. With a deep breath and a quick glance of reassurance to Clark who was already staring at you with an expression you couldn’t read, you made a beeline toward the entrance of the towering building. With the sound of both yours and Clark's heels padding against the reception floor filling the whisky air around you, you arrived at the front desk where several receptionists were either hurriedly typing away or mumbling words on the phone that were too fast-paced for you to narrow down.

After clearing your throat for what felt like the eighteenth time, a receptionist with dark red lipstick slid toward you and Clark on her desk chair, smiling.

"Hi, we have an appointment with Mr Wayne?" You spoke up, before Clark did, who was standing inches behind you with a notepad and pen of his own.

"name?" The receptionist asked back, raising her voice slightly to drown out the growing noise behind her.

"(Y/N) (L/N) but under Lois Lane? She's sick so I'm filling in for her this morning."

"one moment please," she said, spinning around and reaching for the telephone sat on the desk. You turned around and faced Clark with an anxious expression. He smiled warmly at you, pushing back his glasses before parting his lips to speak, before he got the chance to speak, however, his expression fell and you could hear the phone being put down behind you. You furrowed your eyebrows, turning to face where Clark's eyes had shifted before you met the apologetic gaze of the receptionist.

"Mr Wayne,” She began, breathing out her sentence with a sigh. “sends his apologies. He says he'll only speak to Mrs Lane."

Your mouth fell open in surprise." what? but I told you, she's sick."

"He sends his apologies, ma'am." She reaffirmed softly. If you hadn’t been humiliated you would’ve felt sorry for her. You could tell she was new and trying her best to deliver the disappointing news in the nicest way possible, but how could you just accept his apology when the Bruce Wayne not only directly insulted your entire career but humiliated you in front of a handful of receptionists and your own co-worker?

"he can stick that apology right up his ass." You said, storming off and instantly cringing at your unprofessionalism. You could feel that Clark had stayed put for a few moments before jogging quickly to catch up with you, you had gathered that the had either apologised to the receptionist for your extreme unprofessionalism which made you cringe harder as that was probably added to his list of reasons why Lois was a better reporter than you were, or he was stunned by the whole ordeal and didn’t think you would give up so easily.

Throwing the doors open in frustration which earned you a few glances from people passing by you paced forward to the edge of the curb, swallowing the big lump that kept building up in your throat. When Clark found you, he stood beside you quietly.

"I can't believe this!" you said, mouth hanging agape with not only the sheer embarrassment of being rejected by Bruce Wayne but yet again having Lois be favoured over you. If Clark couldn’t grasp why you hated Lois Lane so much before, he sure did understand now.

“We should go back in there,” he said with a sense of determination but yet with the softest tone, you scoffed shoving your notepad in your bag and tucking your tight curls behind your ear in frustration.

“What? to get kicked out again? no thanks.” you crossed your arms, allowing your eyes to rest on the busy streets of Metropolis. You sucked in a breath and stood there, knowing that if you spoke anymore you would surely cry. After a minute or so you stuck out your hand to an approaching taxi, it pulled over, shortly after and you both climbed in silently, heading back to the office with as much information as you had left with.

...

"It's fantastic, but something's missing." You said, hovering over Clark’s shoulder with a cup of coffee in your hand. After a few hours had passed, you had quickly gotten over the embarrassment you experienced at the Wayne building. The determination to produce an exciting piece overrode what happened and your interest was re-ignited. You would prove to Wayne that not only were you a respectable reporter, but you were a reporter who wouldn’t take acts of favouritism and unprofessionalism lying down.

"Yeah,” Clark who was impressed by your sudden sheer of determination nodded in agreement and paused for a while, searching for what the missing piece to this nearly-perfect article could be. When you had stood up to your full height and paced around his small cubicle to rake your brain for the missing piece, his head shot up and he excitedly twisted around in his chair to face you with the same unreadable expression that he made when you arrived at the Wayne Enterprises building. “A reference. An outside opinion."

You smirked leaning against the printer that sat across from his cubicle and facing his chair.

"know anyone of value?" He asked, watching you attentively.

You let out a small laugh before you opened your mouth to say something clever, and then it struck you.

"Actually, yeah," you said snapping up and putting your cup of coffee down on his desk after one final gulp, throwing on trainers once again and yanking your coat from the back of your chair that you had dragged over. Clark moved to do the same but you placed a hand on his arm. Which was surprisingly firm. He relaxed almost immediately under your touch.

"No I got it, it's fine you stay put." You reassured him, certain that he wouldn’t like where your source was coming from. He agreed silently and sat back down on his chair watching you leave. When he turned back around to face his monitor the words on your coffee cup that caught his eyes made him silently laugh to himself.

‘There’s a chance this may be tequila.’

...

"I got it!" you squealed weaving through the other cubicles in the room to get to yours. Clark's face lit up at your expression and he was at your desk in a matter of seconds displaying the same excitement as you. Hovering over your shoulder as you sprawled your notes all over your desk, you squirmed a little under him, the feeling of him being so close to you making you more flustered than you would've liked to admit.

"Wayne's? how did you get it?" He asked, pulling up a chair to sit beside you. You turned to him and rolled your eyes.

"No, not Wayne's fuck that guy. I got Lex Luthor’s!" you said, opening the drafted article.

He paused and you turned to look at him, puzzled.

“How?" was all he managed to ask as you proudly beamed at him, shrugging off your coat and placing it on the back of your chair.

"I pulled a few strings, made a few calls,” You shrugged before continuing, “seems like Luthor likes me way more than Lois so I win in that department I guess.” You chuckled, to which Clark didn’t follow which shocked you slightly, especially since you thought you had developed your relationship enough to make a few jokes that he would laugh at. You cleared your throat awkwardly and began typing as the two of you made the right adjustments and created the perfect article.

...

"I don't..." you started sighing deeply before eventually giving in.

"I don't hate Lois. I just hate the favourability. I mean you saw how I got shut down earlier. I'm a respectable writer too, and It’s just a little...” you paused, searching for the right words as Clark popped open another bottle of red wine.

“Frustrating?” he suggested, pouring you a glass first and then himself. You hummed in agreement with his word choice as you grasped the bottom of the wine glass, swirling the red drink around the glass.

“Yeah, it’s frustrating. I’m constantly being shadowed by a woman I literally rank the same as. I mean if I’m being totally honest we’re just as good as each other, there’s no real rivalry. I guess it’s just me being bitter.” You shrugged, lifting the glass up to your lips and then taking a big gulp when you had finished your confession.

The office was empty. So empty that only you and Clark were left on the floor and the lights had been shut off completely. You would’ve minded it if it were dark outside but the warm silverly lighting that cast itself in the office was enough to make it cosy. The moment felt surreal, with Christmas music softly playing in the background and the glass of red wine in your hand you felt more than comfortable in the presence of a man that you would’ve loathed twenty-four hours ago.

You scoffed setting your glass down, "don't even get me started on her relationship with Superman."

At the mention of his name, as if completely unexpected, Clark’s head shot up instantly. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” he questioned. Tucking his hair back with his hand. The light that came from the window beside your office rested enchantingly on his face, almost as if the unusual colours of that day were made for him. You bit back a smile. Revisiting the fact that just hours ago this man went from your worst enemy to-

"I mean,” You spoke leaning forward and dragging yourself away from your own thoughts. You rested your elbow on the desk and propped your head up with your fist facing him fully. Some of your tight curls fell from the high bun you had put it in hours ago and found their way onto your face.

“he saves her once and all of a sudden they're best friends. Do you want superman's opinion? I'll just call Lois Lane for you, she'll know!" You continued. “I just find it ridiculous.”

You weren’t sure whether it was just because he was a good reader or had previous experience in therapy practice, but you could tell he could read you perfectly. He knew when to speak and when not to and you were enjoying venting for the first time in what felt like forever.

"Never thought I'd admit this to anyone," you said gulping down the last of the wine from your cup.

"but Superman's actually ruined my career. And it's not like I can move you know? cause I'd just have to start all over again and I can't risk that. Not when I’ve gotten this far."

“and I mean,” you scrambled quickly correcting yourself immediately as if you were speaking to Superman himself. “I could write a billion pieces that could be perfect. Headlining. But Lois writes one where Superman so much as even breathes in her presence and everyone would choose that one over mine every day of the week.”

You stared at each other for a while after it fell silent, the light from the evening although it had darkened, still managed to perfectly frame Clark’s face. Though it was the last thing that you expected to happen, your eyes trailed towards his lips and you could feel yourself inching closer. You felt like, though it could’ve very well had been your imagination playing tricks on you, that he was leaning forward also, but before anything could happen, you leaned back and chuckled nervously.

You could feel the buzz of the wine you had consumed at the edge of your fingertips. You groaned covering your hands with your eyes in embarrassment and twisting your chair slightly from side to side.

“I’m sorry.” you apologised out loud, taking your hands away from your eyes and avoiding his gaze. Though you could not see him clearly you could feel him smiling. You wanted to sink into the ground so badly.

“I- I think I should go.” You concluded by closing the windows on your laptop to occupy yourself.

“Yeah, no absolutely it is getting late.” he agreed standing up and slipping on his blazer and his shoes. You did the same in silence and tucked your chair in, slipping on your coat as you both walked toward the elevator. When you both stepped in Clark opened his mouth to say something then closed it, shaking his head slightly.

“Just say it.” You smiled, as the elevator doors closed and it began to descend. “Come on, you’ve been doing it all day just say what’s on your mind,” you encouraged him. He let out a small huff of air and then turned to you.

“I think you’re one of the best reporters I’ve worked with, (Y/N). I knew it from the moment you stepped out of that taxi and looked at the asshole’s building. You clearly care about every piece you write and each detail that’s written about doesn’t come from your head but from your heart. Which I think, makes you entirely unique, and if any asshole doesn't want to see it then there are plenty of other clear-headed less ignorant people who will appreciate your work."

Feeling both flustered and speechless, you stayed silent until you had reached the entrance of the building. 

“Clark, I-” 

He smiled holding up his hand to stop you, he tucked his hands into his coat and looked to the side, breathing in the air metropolis had to offer. The sight of him like that made you regret not kissing him earlier.

“It’s okay (Y/N). You don’t have to say anything else. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You stood completely dumfounded and once again speechless. You nodded as you watched him call a taxi. When the taxi pulled over and you had gotten in with the door closing behind you softly, you were puzzled for what felt like the 100th time this evening. As if reading your mind he levelled himself with the car window so that he could face you, your faces were merely inches apart. Your lips ached to kiss his desperately.

“Don’t worry I’ll be fine. My house is within walking distance.” He reassured you when you were about to protest. You nodded and said your final goodbyes as the driver drove away. You let out a breath you did not know you were holding and wondered if things would continue to remain the way they were between you and Clark with Lois’ imminent return looming over the both of you.

-

Sitting on the balcony of your apartment was much calmer than other nights for some particular reason. Though it was freezing in metropolis since it was winter season, the cold was bearable enough for you to sit outside with your glass of wine in hand. You hummed as you listened to the sound of cars riding beneath you, letting your eyelids close completely as you sunk deeper into your chair. Suddenly the overwhelming feeling of someone watching your made your eyes shoot open. You had to cover your mouth to stop the sound of a scream from escaping your lips.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you semi-yelled setting down your glass of wine on the mini table between the chair you were sitting on and the other chair which was vacant. 

“I spoke to Clark today,” He said standing behind the chair across yours. You curled up in defence and he raised his palms to show you he wouldn’t hurt you.

“Yeah, well so have I, get in line Superman.”

He laughed and gestured to the seat in front of him asking whether he could sit down with his eyes. You nodded slowly. If you weren’t so intimidated you would’ve been concerned about the safety of the chair, since you weren’t sure it was capable of holding Superman himself. You crossed your arms against your chest when you realised he could see much more than you were comfortable with. 

He stared at you for what like forever. At this point your heart was hammering out of your chest because this conversation from your point of view would be going one of two ways, death or intimidation. 

“I’m sorry that my actions may have hindered your career, (Y/N,” He spoke, staring at you with piercing eyes. Though he may not have intended it to come across that way, you couldn't help but decipher them that way because of the current circumstances. He was so good at maintaining eye contact that even you felt uncomfortable and shifted in your chair a bit. 

"may?" you asked sarcastically, but careful enough to not come across as rude and unnecessarily piss him off. Though you were sitting across the superman who had been told about the controversial opinion you held about him in regards to your career, you knew deep down he was not a murderer.

He sighed, knowing, ironically that he had struck the wrong chord with you. Looking away from your sharp gaze and outward, at the view from your apartment balcony he searched for the right words to approach you with.

“Thanks to you and Lois, I’m outranked by a reporter I’m - on paper by the way, ranked on the same level as. And you sit here and say ‘may’ as if I haven’t been dead-ended by several sources who only want to speak to Lois because of her connection to you.”

You continued, “I get that you and Lois may have a thing but don’t let your relationship with her cloud the careers of others. Not everyone is lucky enough to have their own Superman.”

And with that he stood up. You flinched away from him immediately regretting letting your emotions get the better of you. Swallowing  your pride was much more important than being killed by Superman because you couldn’t. 

“I don’t have a thing with or for Lois Lane.” He rebutted sharply almost as fast as he stood up. You stood up also, hating the idea of looking up at him. You put as much distance between you and him as possible, though the shape of him and his height significantly made the balcony seem less spacious.

“Have you come here to argue? or apologise? because I really want you to leave now.” 

He sighed again, this time deeply. He didn't mean to scare you, especially after the day the two of you shared together. He hung his head low briefly before raising it to look at you with an expression you swore you had seen before. You crossed your arms again before he had began speaking.

“You’re right, (Y/N) and I’m sorry. Clearly I’m much better at using my fists then using my words,” He said and you broke into a small smile at his truth-telling.

“I’m going to do everything I can to make sure nothing like this ever happens again. It would be a shame to see such raw writing talent go to waste.” He continued, softening his gaze.

After a moments silence, you uncrossed your arms and groaned in annoyance extending your right hand as an invitation for him to shake your it. There was no excuse to be an asshole to him because his apology was genuine. Though he truly did create obstacles in your career that set you back tremendously, you were willing to put this behind you and move forward, creating a career that wouldn’t be hindered by a single person. It wasn't worth it when you had so much talent.

He shook it, and as you expected his touch was both warm and firm. 

“Apology accepted.”

He flashed a smile, and hovered over the flooring of your balcony. Mesmerised, you gasped softly as he flew over the railing and above the city. 

“You may want to step back a bit,” he warned keeping that same capturing smile etched onto his face. You followed his order, taking a few steps backward. 

“A little more,” he encouraged and you picked up your wine glass before taking more steps back. His head tilted slightly in amusement, the joy in finding you step back with such caution at the forefront of his mind. You stepped behind the threshold of your balcony doors and he nodded turning around to prepare to fly away.

“Oh and, I look forward to working with you, (Y/N).”

With that and a wink he flew away, the ripple he caused in the air piercing your ears and blowing the white curtains you had on the doors to your balcony around you. You watched in awe as what once stood and hovered in front of you merely became a blip in the sky.

You smiled from ear to ear turning back into your apartment with the glass of half-drunken wine sat still in your wine glass. Excited for the relationship not only you were going to have with Superman, but other reporters too.

-

 Summary: (AU) After reconciling with Bucky, both of you prepare to embark on a journey to the past to try and change Steve’s mind, and perhaps in turn the future.

A/N: If you’ve missed the previous chapters, click here to read them

WARNINGS : HEAVYISH ANGST & SLIGHT MENTION OF SEXUAL TENSION . PROOF READING/ ALTERATIONS

WORD COUNT : 1,771

-

Present 20th June, 2026

“Do you know?” Bucky, who was sitting beside you asked as he twisted in the chair he was sitting on.

“know what, Bucky?” you replied as you too sat in the middle of the laboratory in the compound that was too empty and motionless for your liking. He paused and pressed his hands together being very careful with his words. He had been doing that a-lot ever since you had decided to put what happened between the two of you in the past.

As he opened his mouth to speak you spoke ahead of him, shutting him down before he could say anything stupid. “you don’t have to keep doing that, you know.”

His eyes briefly caught yours before they flickered somewhere else again. The small lamplight that shun from the desk that you were working on illuminated his jaw and left arm well, the yellowish ray of light exposed each muscle that escaped the clothing of his short-sleeved shirt and jogging bottoms. It had taken a while for you and Bucky to return to the way you used to be. It was disgustingly awkward at first, and it felt like the two of you had to work from scratch again in terms of your relationship. But when Bucky truly seemed to relax again, you also began to relax too and found that the both of you were able to work even better than you had before.

“I know.” he sighed like you had told him for the hundredth time. And you had, you had reassured Bucky that whatever happened between the two of you was long forgotten about, but it seemed that his never-ending guilt spoke more than his ability to accept that what had happened had happened.

“I’m sorry...” he trailed, placing the pizza box on the desk and getting up, you grasped his wrist before he had the chance to wander around the room and avoid the topic of conversation which he seemed to have instigated in the first place.

“do you know what we’re even going to do when we get there?” he asked as softly as he could. You could tell that he wasn’t trying to start an argument, but rather trying to understand what your motive was since he couldn’t think of one for himself. He was desperate, willing to cling onto any type of motive that he could so he could give himself an excuse to go. It was so readable that you felt sorry for him, sorry that you had to push him into this space of vulnerability again when it had seemed that he had gotten over the loss of Steve years ago.

“No,” you answered without thinking. And it was true, you had no idea what the purpose of this trip was, you had no idea what you’d do when you saw him again, but all you knew was that you had to go, for your sake. The realisation of this struck you, you had been so involved in getting a hold of some Pym particles that you hadn’t even bothered to assess what you were planning to do. Its risks, its success rate the possibility of someone spotting you and potentially disrupting the timeline even more than Steve already had. All you had thought about was getting the chance to see Steve again, getting the chance to be selfish.

You were angry now, how could Steve do this to you? how could he give up on everything you two built together as if it was nothing? how could he put you in this position of constant stress just so that he could live an easier life with the same woman that had seemed to move on not so long ago? You couldn’t see it then, but he was trying so hard to grasp onto the prospect of Peggy that he had allowed his own desires, his own selfishness to override his morals and everything that concerned the people around him. He deserved to be selfish, after everything he went through you believed that Steve deserved a chance at a normal life, but if it meant that he had to destroy everything that he was building in the process, you wouldn’t allow it. Not like this- not when you needed your own chance at selfishness too.

The silence that hung in the air was deafening but cut short when the glass box on the desk hissed and whirred to life, the box opened on its own and placed the samples of Pym particle solution on the surface beneath it. The box hissed again before the box closed, you and Bucky shared a look before you had rolled toward the desk and picked up a test tube.

“If this works...” Bucky let out a small gasp as he picked up one of the particles himself, you could hear the sound of thunder pierce through the air as you pushed one of the particles in the testing slot. A loading sign flashed on the screen before a percentage on the screen followed it.

‘66%...’

You held your breath and squeezed the chair arm as your eyes followed the screen and its every move. When it finally loaded to 100% and pushed the particle forward, confirming its effectiveness you almost let out a long-awaited sigh. You had done it, you had successfully re-made a Pym particle and had yet again been struck with the daunting realisation of reality, and what this meant. There was no turning back now.

“We could change everything.” you finished Bucky’s sentence. Another flash of thunder sounded before you and Bucky bid each other goodnight and decided to part ways to head to bed.

-

As you lay in the cold bed, the ticking of your clock kept you tossing and turning for what seemed like forever. By the time the clock struck 3am, it had begun to rain, and the restless tap of the drops of water beating against your window seemed to be of no aid to your current state of insomnia. Throwing the silk sheet off of you, you sat with your body faced toward the door of your bedroom, you fought the urge to walk to it and throw it open, but you did it anyway, the desperation of wanting someone to hold you far greater than your diminishing sense of pride.

“Bucky,” you whispered as you rest your hand against the door of his room which was situated right across yours. The door, after a few seconds, opened softly to reveal a fresh-faced Bucky, not bedridden but fresh-faced as if he had just gotten out of the shower. The dark light that emitted from the window of his room confirmed that he had not been sleeping at all.

The thick silence that hung in the air between the two of you was enough to create a level of understanding, of want and need. Without so much as a word, Bucky peeled himself away from the door and carefully strode toward you closing what little space was already between the two of you, his green eyes calculating your every expression for a sign of resistance - change of mind.

He came to a stop when he was right in front of you, his bare chest being at the forefront of your vision. His breath, which you could feel fan against your forehead was cold and comforting - inviting. You looked into his eyes as your hand travelled its way to the back of his neck, he slightly shivered at your touch and relaxed into it once you gave him a squeeze of reassurance. He reached up to touch the skin of your cheek and your eyes fluttered closed in response. The electricity burned inside of you, it itched to escape as his thumb swept your cheek with such care. Without realising it, you reached down with your spare hand to guide his metal hand to the other side of your cheek. Your eyes opened to only find that his were already set on yours, you nodded softly as he searched for permission a look of hesitation etched against the face that was half-lit by the glow of the moonlight.

“you sure about this?” he whispered carefully, bringing you closer than you already were. Your lips were inches apart and his lips looked soft, warm - inviting, rather. You nodded desperately, not letting a second to think dwell in the air.

“please,” you whispered back, like a soft exchange its fragility on the tip of your tongue. You burned for him, burned to feel his cold hands around your body. Burned to be held, to be worth something to someone. To hold value.

This was wrong.

Your hand was intertwined with his and by the time you realised the tears had already fallen from your eyes and onto the fingertips of Bucky. Who smiled a soft smile before pulling you apart.

“I'm sorry,” you said, voice wobbling so effortlessly it burned in your throat as the words poured out into the air.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, look at me- it’s fine,” he reassured you, placing both of his hands on top of your braids to keep your head still. He shrugged lightly, pulling you closer to him so that your face was at the base of his neck.

“It happens.”

The vibration his voice emitted was enough to lull the temptation of sleep in front of your nose. You could feel yourself slipping, not physically but in other ways you could not control. You hated being so vulnerable. You wanted to cower away, to rewind time and stay away. You didn’t want him to see you this way.

“Bucky,” you stirred, pulling yourself away and holding both of his hands in your own.

“please.” you whispered again, quieter as if you were scared that someone could hear you.

And he nodded, pulling you towards his room without another word. There was no need to speak, it was so useless now that everything was in the air- so readable between the two of you. So fragile, so foreign.

The door clicked behind you and you were met with the contrasting warmth of Bucky’s bed as opposed to your own. As soon as you slipped inside of the sheets you mumbled a sentence of gratitude towards Bucky before you fell into a state of sleep. The thought of what lay ahead of you and Bucky tomorrow dissolving into a reserved part of your brain. For at this moment your body needed rest.

And it was something that you hadn’t had much of in a while.

-

A/N:  🫐Apologies for taking so long to update this. I hope you guys enjoyed this thus far! 

FOREVER TAGS: @wittysunflower

Him obviously approaching you first

Him being impressed by you almost immediately 

you and him enjoying your first date 

laughing about how he had ice cream on his nose the whole date and you being too chicken to tell him years later 

him face-timing you 99.9% of the time that he goes away to shoot a film

him making sure he’s the perfect boyfriend in the beginning 

him being the most annoying person in the world once he gets comfortable in the relationship 

“How can you be the most immature and mature person in the relationship at the same time? it doesn’t make sense.”

Him gaming when you go to work to pass the time

you coming home to find him asleep on his gamer chair 

him caressing your hand every second of everyday

admiring your beauty 

and don’t even dare say you’re not beautiful around him because he’ll ignore your for hours on end until you admit you are

“that’s better”

him calling you “love”

him observing your relationship with Kal to see if you’re the real deal

him getting very jealous when Kal diverts his loyalties 

there being a bit of an age gap between the two of you

playing board games a-lot 

when you’re not playing board games, he’s gaming 

you getting mad at him for spending more time on the game then he is with you

him trying to charm you to make it up

make-up sex does the deal instead 

“you forgive me now, hmmn?”

him asking you very shyly to be his plus one to a red carpet event

you helping him shut down his insecurities 

lots of neck nuzzling 

holding all of your braids with one hand and pulling your head back to whisper in your ear from behind is his thing 

him almost loosing it when he sees you in anything made of either velvet or silk

him leaving trailing kisses along your arm just because 

him focusing on how beautiful you look instead of the premiered film

earlobe nibbling 

spontaneous dancing in the kitchen at whatever-a.m

him “resting his eyes” with his head on your chest 

him snoring very lightly and nuzzling into your chest

him enjoying being small spoon from time to time

him coincidentally finding you midnight snacking when he comes down to do the same

“where was my invite?”

“you were sleeping, Henry”

Kal sleeping in between the two of you

him cooking you a mean meal

sneaky remarks

“i’ve never felt so full.”

“I can think of plenty of other times when you have been full.”

him inviting you on his morning runs 

you immediately regretting it 

“I’m not built for this.”

“yes you are, keep it moving we’re almost there.”

him over-spoiling you

him being curious about your ethnic background and your culture 

him showing up at your workplace and getting a tad bit insecure and jealous when he sees you talking to a male co-worker 

“so who was that? want to introduce me?”

“baby, he’s gay, don’t even.”

him taking you to Paris on your three year anniversary 

“a man of taste I see.”

“this view is so beautiful.”

“I can think of many other ways to make the view even better.”

him almost completely crawling into his shell once it’s time to meet your parents

“baby it’s gonna be fine.”

“the last time you said that you had convinced me to wear a watermelon helmet.”

him getting you into rugby

“can you tackle me?!”

him only agreeing to tackle you on a soft mattress 

him blushing when your name gets mentioned in an interview 

your relationship going public when you’re both comfortable 

him respecting and valuing all your ideologies and boundaries 

him being a kid around you all the time

him being so in-love with you it scares him a little

him drinking in your beauty when you’re sound asleep

“if you were figuring out a way to kill me, you just lost your opportunity.”

cooking together always turns into a food fight 

not being serious when you’re around each other at all 

him being the sweetest boyfriend in the world.

Hi! yes! you can be selfish (teehee) 

-From the Fun meta asks for writers-

Question 1. “Tell us about your current project(s) - what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love the most about it?”

Once again thanks for asking! I’m actually currently trying to finish the Steve Rogers x black reader ‘Remember us’ I’m on the last chapter and it’s going fairly well, I just want to construct it as best as I can (since i’m my biggest critique lol) the thing i love the most about it is how vulnerable the reader and Bucky get I think I’ve tried (hopefully, successfully) to show just how important Steve’s presence was for the both of them, and how he really was the glue of the team. But, now that he’s gone it’s just interesting to write a world where Captain America doesn’t exist anymore. I hope that wasn’t too rambly...

Question 15. “Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?”

I think summaries are harder, since i try to write a summary that would interests a reader, but at the same time I try not to give away the ending.