#i spent. quite literally all day on this ;^^

[pipermcleanswife]

i need domestic fluff with mac 😭 like bedtime routine, watching movies together, having game nights on the pc together im so down bad for this computer i will take anything <3 ty

HI HII!!! OH MY DOUBLE GOSH. I LOVED THIS REQUEST! I HAD LIKE A GAZILLION IDEAS SO I JUST DECIDED TO CRAM THEM INTO HEADCANNONS (plus i was looking for a reason to spread more of my mac propaganda) I HOPE THATS ALRIGHTY!!💗💗Now, MOST of these headcannons are for once they are realized!! I've also included some other just random blurbs i thought of while writing these out! I hope you enjoy!!!

Warnings? Mac being a cutie pie

‼️Gender neutral reader‼️

• Once mac is realized they surprisingly dont change much. Its very hard for them to adapt to having human needs but you help them. Things get easier for the both of you.

• Im gonna be so fr, they are lowkey SO jealous if you decide you want to buy a new computer once they are realized. They are just so scared you wont need or want their help anymore.

• Mac is still a MAJOR nerd. Im serious. They get so geeked out to play new games with you, or read about some new tech advancements. I hope you've upgraded your vocabulary because you ARE getting an earful that you may or may not understand.

• Mac would help you find a job that keeps you at home so that they can be around you and you can teach them about life and stuff. If you cant find one though, they literally wait ALL day for you, calls you multiple times a day. Your breaks are usually spent texting and sharing stupid pictures with them.

• Mac LOVES to help with literally anything. It helps them reassure themselves that you want them around, that they ARE enough for you

• Mac is one of the most supportive people ever. They look at you like you hung the moon and stars. They ADORE when you show off a new outfit you bought and maybe some other purchases…

• Another favorite pastime is taking baths together, they just like the idea of sitting in your lap and having their hair washed.

• They love to play games with you, it's just so wonderful to have something like that with you. They weren't sure they would like it at first, BUT they love playing little world building games like Minecraft or animal crossing with you. I also feel it in my soul that they like the Hades games and probably deltarune

• Obviously they are still a tech nerd and since they can't just not sleep anymore you have to remind them, I'm so serious, they will not even recognize the exhaustion unless you come and get them and take them to bed

• Speaking of beds and cuddling. They ADORE to cuddle. I don't think they have a favorite way to cuddle because they just love being with you. They do like to spoon a lot and lay on top of you though!

• nighttime routines are really nice and calm. (Let's pretend you are strong enough to carry Mac up the stairs, let's be real though that twink can't possibly weigh more than 5 apples) Mac LOVES to help you comb through your hair or read something with you to get nice and tired, they can also think of... alternative....methods, they do tend to be quite creative in their options... Mac loves to help you wipe off your makeup (if you wear any) and they really like to rub your shoulders and whisper you some sweet words. They feel like you don't get the praise you deserve and make sure that you fall asleep knowing that they love you so much.

• Like I said in my last post about mac, They are so affectionate. LOVES HAND HOLDING. It's a requirement. No options

• Mac is actually really good about reminding you to do things, but forgets their own stuff. Like if you need to charge your phone but you forgot they'll be like “you need to charge your phone babes” and their phones dead. Deader than any straight white man who says, “school dosent matter” entrepreneur dreams.

• Honestly genuinely a wonderful partner. Plans fun dates for you two to go on every other week because they understand that it might could overwhelm you a little bit and you work hard, you would probably rather have a nice relaxation week. and on the weeks you dont have a date you guys have a movie or game night. Also, you two make dinner together frequently, they really like to help in the kitchen, big fan of baking.

• They totally have planned dates based on the fanfiction that you've read.

• Sometimes they feel incomplete not knowing everything you're searching up or browsing, not in a creepy way, it's just that was their purpose before you realized them, that was what they spent years doing, so sometimes they like to lean over and peer at whatever you're doing. And maybe they just so happen stalk your socials a little bit.

• They really like matcha and coffee, I am so sure of this. They were not sure they would like it. They get this strawberry matcha drink with sweet foam on top, and they share it with you everytime because they love sharing with you.

• That's another thing, Mac loves to share. Cold? “Well, I'm warm enough, take my jacket, win for both of us because you'll be warm and I get to see you look cute in my stuff.” (they are FREEZING, but their CPU- I mean, their heart just feels so warm around you that they hardly notice) Thirsty? “Here, you can have some of mine, lovely.” Hungry? “Aww babes, it's a good thing I'm coincidentally eating a food you really like!” (they got it because they KNEW they were going to give you some)

• Mac just loves you and is so happy that you're in their life.

Random headcannons because I can.

🖥️- yk those goofy stickers you have on the back of your MacBook? Those funny stickers are definitely on mac too. All over their back. Much like fantina except theirs are like tattoos until you remove them. But they disappear in their realized form. Which honestly makes them sad.

🖥️- macs glasses are blue light and they are not afraid to offer them to you when they can tell you're gonna be working overtime on Ao3

🖥️- they LOVE to smell nice. I'm so fr. Bath and body works for-lifer. ESPECIALLY a fan of that aromatherapy line they have. Will ask you what your fav scent is and then buy it so you snuggle up with them more.

“Hey baby, which one of these do you like” they say holding out two bottles of some type of soap. After taking a quick sniff of both you ultimately decided on the one in their right hand. “Hmmm, the one on the right is my fav” you say with a small hum. They made their purchase so fast you'd barley even finished picking out the rest of your things! (Speaking of which, if you've never tried the eucalyptus bath and body works shower steamer, YOU SHOULD, oh my double goodness, it is DIVINE)

🖥️- in the most loving way, Mac is a smartass. They are aware of this. They don't mean it in a malicious way. They just love to teach and inform you of things! It's the way your eyes light up and process the information, and don't even get them started on the fact that you sit there and let them explain for as long as they want, even if they drag on the most elementary of topics

🖥️- terrible immune system, horrible. Seasonal allergies kick their ass.

🖥️- we all know this FREAK makes whatever they can sensual and flirty, you can be chilling on your phone while cuddling on the couch with them and they'll whisper something so devious in your ear you actually throw the damn phone

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PHEW... That was a lot. Kinda proofread, kinda didn't, I KNOW, YOU CAN BOO ME IN THE COMMENTS. I'm SOOO sorry this didn't get out sooner. life is crazy, right?? I hope you guys enjoyed this tasty meal I cooked up for y'all. Love ya, songbirds!

[solixiaa]

It's Nothing, Right? ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ao3

paring : bucky barnes x dr!reader ( canon divergent )

summary : You never expected to end up working at the Avengers compound—especially not as Bucky's medical lead after his last quit. Awkward encounters turn into something more...at least you think. Between mixed signals, late night conversations, and lingering glances, you begin to wonder if it's all in your head or if he feels it too.

word count : 5.9k (jeez louise)

warnings : fluff!!! slight angst, language, drinking/alchohol, Bucky is emotionally constipated, misunderstandings, miscommunication trope, semi insecure reader, public embarrassment / confrontation, no use of y/n

authors note : this has been in my drafts forever. writers block will be the end of me. Used one of my most favorite SZA songs as inspiration for this one (drew barrymore). But thought What More Can I Say was more fitting. hope u enjoy :’)

recommended listening : What More Can I Say - The Notations

❝One day you love me, and the next you disappear from sight.❞ ♡

It’s important to get one thing straight.

You never expected—or necessarily wanted—to end up working at the Avengers compound after busting your ass off in medical school.

You envisioned something quieter for yourself. A little loft in the city, maybe even a tiny home on the coast of California back with your family. A job at a nearby hospital. Cute scrubs. Cute stanley. Maybe a cute boyfriend. Just…a cute lifestyle.

Like those girls you see on TikTok who make life seem so simplistic. Somehow always aesthetically pleasing. Always having their shit together. That's what you envisioned.

Alas, here you are frantically clutching your unorganized papers and tablet to your chest—quite literally not having your shit together—chasing after the well known genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist himself; Tony Stark. As intimidating as his presence was, he was less like a boss and more-so an annoying older brother.

“Tony, would you give me a second?” you continue furiously speed walking after the man, earning a few concerned glances your way. The long hallway stretched out in sterile white and gunmetal grey, echoing every hurried footstep like the place wanted to remind you of how small you were there.

“I don’t even know if I’ve got space on my calendar.” You whine.

“Well I sure suggest you make space. Didn’t hire you for nothing now did I?” Without slowing his pace he looks over his shoulder and cocks a smug eyebrow at you.

The last year of working here felt like a blur. One minute, you were nervously presenting your research about nerve receptors at a medical tech conference. The next, you were being handed a keycard to the same building where Thor (a literal fucking God) showers.

Stark Industries had apparently taken one look at your work—custom nanotech for optimizing post-op nerve regeneration and cellular healing—and decided you were perfectly suited for patching up people who fight aliens for a living.

You’d expected to be tucked away in the corner of a lab. Instead, you got shoved straight into the compounds' med bay, testing field tech, designing custom recovery protocols for enhanced bodies, and monitoring vitals.

The job was demanding. So demanding you had to move in. Even if you were able to snag a shitty overpriced apartment nearby, you wouldn’t be spending much time in it. So, you figured there was no point in protesting.

To that, you sigh. Yes you’ve spent the last year in the medical bay tracking vitals, managing combat injuries, and designing more than half the meds in the compounds’ dispensary….but this?

Why did he have to assign you to Barnes?

Tony finally halts in his tracks after reaching his office. Opening the door and motioning for you to enter. Floor to ceiling windows encased his office. Inside coffee stained papers and books were found in every corner. It was a bit chaotic; like a peek into Tony’s mind. You set your bundle of unorganized papers and tablet down and melt into the chair across his desk with exasperation.

“Remind me again why I’m taking over Barnes?” You run your hand down your face. Eyes still heavy from being called down by Tony at 6 AM for this.

Your teeth are unbrushed, hair in a tangled messy bun. Yet there he stands looking like he just got out of a vogue photo shoot. How in the hell does he get up so early? “I thought my only patients were Nat and Wanda.”

Tony shrugs, pouring himself a drink that is definitely not water.

“Barnes’ last medic resigned. Something about needing a sabbatical. Or maybe she’s moving galaxies. Didn’t specify.”

You roll your eyes. “So you volunteered me?”

“I trust you,” He says matter of factly, which—coming from Tony—is more meaningful than it should be. “I wouldn’t trust anyone to care for Barnes. He’s different.” He points a pen at you while explaining.

“I know that. He’s similar to Steve, right?”

He takes a sip from whatever concoction lies in his glass, then adds in a more serious note. “Look, his vitals are weird. Serum weird. Where he’s different is in his trauma. It’s not exactly subtle either. We need someone who won’t treat him like he’s broken. Just��a different model.”

You sink further in your chair, slowly rethinking every life decision you’ve ever made. “When do I start?”

Tony glances at his watch and purses his lips in a thin line.

“In an hour. Better get ready. Not loving this hobo look on you.” He points.

“Gee, Thanks T,” You weakly smile, standing and gathering your heap of files and tablet. “I’m assuming you’ve already transferred me all his data?”

“You know it.” He leans into his chair, the sarcasm softening just slightly. “Thanks, pipsqueak.”

You pause at the door. “Anytime.”

Then shut it behind you with a quiet click.

You finished getting ready with plenty of time to spare. Hair in a neater bun this time, teeth brushed, and of course your uniform. The loose white Doctors coat and light blue scrubs underneath with your badge in the lanyard around your neck.

Despite the hundreds if not thousands of times you’ve done these checkups with other members of the Avengers, you couldn’t help but feel the nervousness bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

It wasn’t the fact that he had different physiology. You’d studied Bruces’ gamma influenced vitals, Steve's super serum, and even Wanda who had powers from an infinity stone. You’d become accustomed to treating bodies with conditions that don’t always follow textbook patterns. Put it simply, these things came to you naturally.

It was the fact that it’s Barnes.

The man who could dodge trucks like it was nothing but couldn’t seem to hold a conversation with you for more than 30 seconds.

And you really did try. Passing him in the hallway at least a dozen times—usually when grabbing your creamer filled coffee after late-night med bay shifts, or tagging along with Nat for training briefings. Each time, you’d offer a small smile, or a joke about how much Fury rants.

And each time, he’d give a tight nod, a barely-there smirk…and would continue walking like you had just asked him for his social security number.

“He’s shy,” Natasha had told you once, trying not to laugh. “Or maybe he’s just bad with pretty women.”

But he was never like that around Nat. Or Yelena. Or Wanda. Or anyone for that matter. Only you. Which drew you to the conclusion; Bucky Barnes does not like you.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts, grab your tote bag, and make your way downstairs to the medical bay. Checking yourself one too many times in the mirror—It’s a checkup, not a damn date.

Still, you swipe a bit of lip balm on.

Your eyes squint slightly as you step into the fluorescent lighted room that smelt like a mix of sanitizer and your vanilla scented air fresheners.

You freeze for a second when you spot him sitting at the exam table. Elbows on his knees, dog tags hanging low from his neck. His head lifts when he hears the door open, and for a moment it's just eye contact.

You freeze because not only did he show up early, but because he showed up at all. And you were still under the assumption that he didn’t like you. But also—Bucky had almost never shown up for a scheduled checkup. On the few occasions he did was when Steve and Sam quite literally forced him to.

Tony warned you about it. “Don't take it personally,” he said while working on one of his many suits. “Barnes has a habit of ghosting medical appointments. He’s got that ‘I heal fast, don't waste your time on me’ complex. I’m sure you’ll figure something out”

Seeing him sit there without any need for persuasion or bribery was nothing short of astonishing.

“Wasn’t sure you’d actually show up” You admit with a smile. Eyes focused on your tablet as you make your way over to prep the scans, putting your tote bag up on a hanger. “Thought I’d have to call Steve to take you in.” You get a quiet huff in response. Maybe even a half-smile.

You set your clipboard down. “I read through your file. Looks like we’ll be doing a routine check. Just vitals and general examination. Nothing too scary.” You assured me with a soft smile.

He gives a short nod, jaw tense, gaze flickering around like it’s a warzone and not a softly lit doctor's office.

“You’ve done this with the others?” he finally asks, voice low.

You can’t help but let out a soft laugh as you start laying out the equipment. “Plenty of times. Nat. Yelena. Kate. Even Pietro, once. Didn’t get very far though. He kept trying to flirt the entire time, which was more exhausting than the actual testing.”

That earns you something—a subtle twitch at the corner of his lips like he was holding back a smile.

You catch it, then tilt your head slightly. “What about you? I hear you’re always very enthusiastic about checkups.” His eyes flicker to yours, then away again. “Don’t really see the point in ‘em.”

“Because of the serum?” you ask gently, pulling plastic gloves on your hands as you move closer to where he’s sitting. He nods. “Doesn’t feel fair. People out there losin’ their lives, and I’m in here gettin’ my blood pressure taken.”

You pause for a moment, taking in what he’s saying. There’s no judgement in your voice but something gentler. Quieter.

“Healing faster doesn’t mean you don’t get hurt.”

That makes him look at you. Really look at you.

Before he could respond—if he was even going to—you clasp your hands together with a smile “Alright, well let me get started.” turning once again to grab your things. You’re pretty sure you catch him watching you, but you try to ignore it.

“You mind taking your jacket off for me?” You ask. Bucky pauses for a beat—almost forgetting where he is. Its a fucking checkup he tells himself.

As he sets his jacket to the side, you pull up a swivel chair to his right.

“Just gonna start off by taking your blood pressure,” you hum while pulling out the blood pressure cuff. The cuff crinkles under your touch as you unwrap it, your fingers skimming the firm muscle of his arm. He doesn’t flinch, but you feel the way his biceps tense under your palm.

"Are you doing alright?” you ask gently, brows furrowing with concern. You always try to keep things professional, but your gaze lingers for a little too long. The short stubble on his jaw. The dimple on his chin. And his annoyingly long lashes.

You’ve done this procedure a hundred times, but for some reason, wrapping the cuff around his arm makes your pulse tick just a little faster. That, and the way you’re forced to look up at him because of your height difference isn’t making this any easier on you.

He nods, but his body language says otherwise. Shoulders tense, breathing is off. You don’t think much of it.

“Relax your arm for me.” you murmur.

He exhales. For a second his eyes flicker to your face—and linger. He can’t help but watch as you care for him with such precision.

You glance up at him just in time to catch it. “What? Do I have something on my face?” You smile.

“Nothing,” He mutters, too quickly, eyes darting to the wall.

You shuffle in your chair as you start to unwrap the cuff from his arm, “Y’know, It’s okay if you’ve got a little hospital anxiety. It’s normal.” You assure him.

He lets out a chuckle under his breath. “Yeah, something like that.”

You walk over to your station and scribble down some notes on your clipboard, the soft scratch of the pen being the only sound in the room. You toss your gloves in the trash can beside your desk and glance over your shoulder.

“Alright,” you murmur, pulling your stethoscope from where it hangs on a nearby hook “Heart rate next.”

As you walk towards him, Bucky finds himself watching you with curiosity. How were you not scared of him? In the few checkups that he went to with his last Doctor, comments would constantly fly out of her mouth. Regarding his past. Regarding The Winter Soldier. Although they were meant to be light-hearted jokes, something about “Hope this doesn’t trigger any…programming” stung the wrong way.

But there was something quiet about you. Comforting, like a gentle breeze, that made him feel safer than he cares to admit. Quiet in a way that made him nervous for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. A quiet that he didn’t think that he deserved.

You step closer, tugging the stethoscopes ear plugs in and gently placing the diagram against his chest.

“Deep breath,” you say softly

He obeys. Chest rising under your palm—broad and steady. You notice how close you two are. You can literally feel the heat radiating from him. Like he’s a damn furnace. But it’s completely professional. Just like all your clinics are.

So why do you feel your face warming?

You clear your throat and try to regain your composure. Focusing on the rhythm under the stethoscope. But it’s not helping that his heartbeat picked up the moment you touched him. You stare at the heart monitor, not because you needed to, but because you’re sure if you looked at Bucky he’d see how flustered you are.

You pull back slightly, raising a brow. “Hm. A little fast.”

He clears his throat. “Serum. Makes everything run a little..high.”

“Sure,” you say scribbling on your chart without looking up. In a split second you think back to Natashas comment. That he gets nervous around pretty women. That couldn’t be the case, could it? It’s Bucky Barnes. It’s you.

“Definitely not because you get nervous around needles.” You joke.

You get an eye roll and a smile in response. A real smile at that. Simple as it is, it makes your heart flutter. Progress.

The rest of the clinic goes by smoothly. You kept your composure. Kept your hands steady. Unable to ignore the way his gaze lingered. The way his muscles tensed at your touch without fail.

Aside from the brief awkward silences—usually followed by even more awkward banter—everything about him checked out. Healthy, and normal…as normal as a super soldier gets, at least.

The next few weeks passed in a strange kind of limbo. You’d have your clinics, and of course, over time he slowly warmed up to you.

You actually started to look forward to seeing him around— Whether when he was training in the gym with Steve, Going on runs with Sam, laughing at something Thor told him. But the difference between Bucky and them was, he’s always present.

He wasn’t like that with you.

Yes, he would talk to you. Conversations about his childhood and Brooklyn, or about how you ended up here. There’d even been a time where he offered to walk you back to your room because it was “dark”. And you swear, he almost looked disappointed when you said no.

But it was the quiet moments you’d cherish most. During meetings when your hands would be shaking under the table. All he’d do is gently tap your hand. Or rub his thumb across yours. Small. Enough to ground you. Like he was always watching even when you didn’t expect it.

But then the next day, he goes back to ignoring you. Brushing past you in the hallway like he’s never met you. No nod, no eye contact, nothing.

It’s enough to make you question everything—had the tension and lingering glances been in your head? Had his heart beat really just picked up because he was afraid of needles?

Because he would always go back to his routine of ignoring you. And it's starting to get under your skin—even if you aren’t exactly sure why.

You told yourself to just focus on your work. He’s a coworker. A patient. You’re a professional. One person not liking you shouldn’t send you into a spiral.

So you convinced yourself it didn’t mean anything. That you imagined it all. The touches. The coffees. The looks.

Maybe he’s just polite. Or extremely awkward. Maybe both?

Either way, you told yourself to just let it go. You’re not some girl projecting her fantasies onto someone who doesn’t even see her.

And then Tony announced the party.

Not like it was unusual, for Tony. He’d always come up with some excuse to throw a late night rager. Whether it be for a fundraiser, or a ‘celebration’ of some sort, Tony found a way to party.

Something about “Pepper is leaving us unsupervised for the weekend,” was his reasoning this time around. Whatever it was, it was all anyone could talk about— who was coming, who’d get the most wasted, and what songs should be played at karaoke.

You hadn’t planned on going. Hell, you didn’t even want to go. But Natasha gave you that look. The look that meant she wouldn’t stop until you gave in. After a solid 20 minutes of bargaining, you caved.

So here you are, getting ready in her bathroom. Slipping on a skin tight off the shoulder white dress that hangs dangerously low on your cleavage. Your hair is finally out of your usual messy bun and in neat curls. You open the bathroom door, greeted by Natasha leaning against the wall with her keys dangling lazily on her fingers. She freezes when she sees you.

“Oh my God,” Her eyes widen and whips her hand over her chest dramatically. “If looks could kill…” She whispers while shaking her head. Natasha looks nothing short of stunning herself—her short red hair falling into voluminous curls and her figure emphasized by her black dress.

She lets out a hushed giggle under her breath. “Y’know….”

“He’s gonna be there tonight.”

You don’t even need to ask who ‘he’ is.

Ever since your first appointment with Bucky she has nothing but teased you for it. She’s convinced he’s got some little crush on you.

Sure, he shows up to every appointment; Most of the time early. And sure he’s gotten in the habit of making your coffee when you have to stay up late in the clinic —the way you like it, with extra creamer— though he’s never mentioned it.

Just leaves it at your desk without a word. He probably doesn’t even know that you know it’s him.

Okay, fine. Maybe you’ve come to like the idea. Maybe you’re dressing up in hopes he’ll see you. And maybe—just maybe— you’ve gotten used to the flutter in your chest whenever you do see him.

Even with all the mixed signals, some part of you wants to believe there's something there. But you can’t help hoping it’s not nothing.

You playfully roll your eyes and scoff. “Oh would you shut up,” you laugh. “I never teased you about Steve this much.”

“Because you’re too nice.” Nat quipped. “And please— you totally like him. I see the way you stare.”

You scoff in mock annoyance. “Maybe I do. Maybe I want him to see me tonight.” You say it like a joke, but part of you isn’t kidding.

Natasha shrugs with a sly smile like she’s been waiting for this confession. “Mhmm. No judgement, but— I told you soo.” She sings.

When you arrive, the party is surprisingly classy. Supposedly Tony wanted to up his act from the last party he threw—that ended up with Thor drunkenly dancing on a table as everyone harmoniously chanted for him to ‘Take another shot’.

The floor to ceiling windows give a perfect view of the star flooded night sky adds to the calming atmosphere. The lighting is warm, and the air smells of expensive fragrances mingled with whiskey.

As you and nat are weaving your way through the crowd, you’re about to suggest getting drinks–and that’s when you hear it. A burst of laughter from the far side of the room- familiar.

You turn your head instinctively, eyes scanning the room. You weren’t even looking for him– not really. But there he is.

He throws his head back as he laughs and the corner of his eyes wrinkle– for a second, it seems as if everything moves in slow motion. His chest heaves up and down as he laughs. His brunette hair is neatly pushed back.

Stubble on his jaw so cleanly cut you can almost smell the after shave from across the room. Black suit sharp in all the right places, like it was custom made to steal your attention.

Everything about him seems to fall perfectly in place. So much so, you can’t tell if your eyes are playing tricks on you or if the universe is messing with you. But it’s like there's a spotlight on him in the middle of the room and you’re the only one that seems to notice.

You shake your head to snap yourself out of your trance as your eyes drift to the rest of the crowd. It’s very clear who came with who. Clusters of groups stand throughout the room, couples usually locked arm in arm. Thor stands with Jane, Wanda with Vision, Scott with Hope, Clint with Laura. And of course, Nat is soon to make her way to Steve.

And the fact it's clear who came with who makes your freeze for a moment.

Because when you see Bucky– you see a girl next to him.

And fuck is she beautiful.

“Who the hell is that?” Natasha muttered under her breath in pure shock. You shake your head slowly, “No fucking clue.”

That’s what you get for allowing Nat to feed into your delusions.

It’s nothing, right? Not like you two were ever anything.

Just coworkers.

Your eyes flicker to his and you offer a weak smile and an even weaker wave before getting your arm pulled by Natasha. “Let’s go get drinks.” She insists.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as Nat drags you to the bar. She orders drinks for the two of you, and you sit in a comfortable silence for a moment.

“It has to be a friend,” Natasha shakes her head while sipping on her drink. Part comforting you, and part trying to convince herself. “There's just no way! The signs are there.”

“The signs are there and they’re pretty and girlfriend shaped, Natasha.” You throw her a look, pressing your lips in a tight line. “It’s okay really. I didn’t really think anything would happen.” you muttered. But why does he look at you the way he does?

Natasha frowns. She can’t help but feel guilty for playing into the idea, but she still hasn’t lost hope. “C’mon. Let’s go dance.” She places a hand on your shoulder.

You tilt your head in thought, trying to find the courage to go. But your heart feels like it’d been wrenched for all it’s worth. You close your eyes and shake your head, “You go. I’ll catch up with you later. Go see Steve.” Just as she’s about to argue back you place a silencing finger to her lips “Go. I promise I’m fine, Nat.” You force a smile.

“Okay, but you better come out there.” She points a finger at you and raises her eyebrows.

It’s been about two hours. You’ve been sipping on different wines. Mostly people watching. Mostly, Bucky watching. Natasha had tried to pull you but you weren’t in the mood. Bucky having a girlfriend hit you harder than you’d like to admit.

“Bucky’s been asking about you, y’know.” A familiar voice mutters behind a beer bottle. You glance to your right, and there he is. Steve Rogers. “Nat’s in the bathroom.”

You nod. “Yeah? He can ask me himself next time.” You mutter. You didn’t mean to come off so bitter, you’re just exhausted. Exhausted from the mixed signals. Exhausted from trying to decode everything.

“Sorry,” You drop your head and sigh. “Just tired.”

Steve pats a reassuring hand on your back. And then, Natasha reappears.

“Okay. It’s time for you to get up. Take another shot and cmon girl.” She demands. Hands on her hips and eyes glaring at you like you’ve personally offended her. Then, you know there’s no fighting this one.

“Fine,” You whine. “Give me two minutes and I’ll be out there.”

As Natasha and Steve walk off hand in hand, you look across the bar and catch Bucky’s eyes staring again. Like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. He’s talking to his girlfriend, and Tony. You lock eyes for a little too long, and that was the last straw.

You need to get your mind off of him.

The party has picked up. The lights are no longer warm, but rather cool and dim. The soft jazz is replaced by a thudding baseline just loud enough to drown out your thoughts. Exactly what you need.

You weave your way through the electric crowd, meeting Nat, Steve, and Wanda. Thankfully Bucky is nowhere to be seen. As much as you want to bombard Steve with questions about Bucky’s mystery girlfriend, you don’t want to kill the mood.

You move to the beat, letting it pull you under. Your heart stuck somewhere between devastated and defiant. Someone takes your hand and twirls you around. You laugh; sharp and hollow. But it doesn’t sound like you. It sounds like someone trying too hard to be okay.

You catch a glimpse of Bucky from the corner of your eye and your chest tightens. Need to get away, you think to yourself.

“I’m gonna go grab another drink Nat!”

You barley hear her shout back.

You turn, and then—

Cold.

A shock of cold across your front, soaking through the fabric and skin. You look down. Deep blooms of red spread across your dress. Red puddles at your feet.

Red wine. Everywhere.

You look up to see the woman holding the now empty wine glass. Clearly pissed off and even more clearly drunk. “Watch where the fuck you’re walking!” She slurs loudly and throws her arms up.

Heads turn towards the two of you and the once loud booming music dims. You look for Natasha in the crowd but can’t see her.

You’re too drained to fight back. Voice cracking as you speak, feeling the oh so familiar sting at your eyes. Tears pooling before you can fully process it. You can’t do this tonight. “Sorry, I-”

“Don’t fuckin’ sorry me,” She crosses her arms. “Maybe if you weren’t busy eye-fucking Barnes all night you’d be able to see where you’re walking.” She rolls her eyes with a scoff.

There's a shift in the crowd to your left. A familiar weight. You don’t even need to look to know that it’s him. And when your eyes finally find his—half shielded by the crowd— it’s like the world shifts.

He saw.

He heard.

Of fucking course he did.

You don’t wait another second to see his face. Or Nats. Or anyone's. You push past the woman, past the crowd, past Bucky’s girlfriend because all you can think about is getting away. Even when the crowd is behind you—it’s not far enough.

Your ears are ringing, heart is thudding in your chest and you start to taste blood from how hard you’re biting your lip.

You’re not even sure how you get back to your room. Just that your heels are loud in the long hallway, echoing every footstep reminding you once again of how small you are there. Before you know it, you’re back in your room slamming the door shut behind you. Skin is sticky, sweaty, and your hands won’t stop shaking.

The door clicks somewhere behind you. You don’t care enough to lock it. You don’t even think about it. You just drop your shoes, your pride, and your head into your hands.

Your elbows stick to the cold kitchen island counter. Wine and hair still clinging to your skin, causing your dress to stick to you in all the wrong places. You don’t cry. You don’t move. You just sit there. Breathing. Replaying the last 10 minutes in your head.

You hear a light knock on the door before it opens fast. You don’t turn, alreading knowing who it is. His heavy footsteps. A held breath. And a pause long enough to feel like a lifetime.

“Hey—” his voice is breathless. Concerned. “Are you okay?”

You don't look up. You shake your head, hands covering your face like you’re holding yourself together. Not daring to make eye contact with him—like it’ll make the situation settle into reality.

He moves slowly, like he’s afraid he’ll scare you off. His hands hover near your face for a moment—hesitant— before he tucks your hair behind your ear revealing your flushed cheeks. The wine dripping from your dress to the floor being the only noise in the room.

“Jesus,” He mutters under his breath. He runs a hand down his face and disappears down the hallway. Then he’s back, draping a towel over your shoulders. “You’re soaked.” he sighs.

You flinch as he touches you—not away, but like his touch startled something loose. You shake your head and let out a breath that's half-sob and half-laugh. “I really can’t fucking tell if you like me or hate me, Bucky.”

And for the first time since he entered, you look up at him. You probably look like a fucking mess. You probably sound like a mess. But you don’t care. Not right now. Not when heart strings have been pulled in every direction by something that might not even be there.

He just stands there stunned for a beat. Mouth agape like he’s trying to find the right words to say. You inwardly sigh, knowing that the whole situationship was more than likely– in your head. 

“You’re just giving me all these mixed signals.” You rub your eyes, like you can’t believe you have to explain this. “One day, we’re best friends. Next, you ignore me. You make my coffees. Steve swears it isn’t you but he’s a terrible fucking liar!” You exclaim with a huff, nails digging into your palms.

“And then,” You take a deep breath, “Steve tells me you’re asking about me?! After ignoring me? And- and then I see you at the party with a whole girlfriend? Like—like it’s nothing. Like you don’t look at me the way you do. Like you didn’t….”

You trail off and shake your head with a bitter laugh.

“I don’t know. Maybe it was all in my head.” You let out a trembling sigh. “Just forget it.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, sweetheart.”

Oh.

Oh.

You let out a breathy laugh. And for a moment, you forget how to breathe. Warmth creeps up to your cheeks and you don’t try to stop it, because— what? You’ve spent the entire night spiraling over a girlfriend—that wasn’t actually his girlfriend. The light seems brighter now, putting a spotlight on your embarrassment.

He licks his lips. Searching for the right words to explain. Like he’s scared this might be the last chance you’ll let him explain.

“She’s an old friend,” He starts slowly, “She asked to come to network. That’s why I was havin’ her talk to Tony.”

Oh.

“Okay,” you start, eyes darting to the floor. “But was everything else in my head?”

You lift your gaze hesitantly—afraid of what you’ll find in his. Taking in every detail just like your first real encounter at the clinic. The dimple on his chin. The stubble on his jaw. The blue eyes that you’d search for in every hallway, every meeting, and every day.

“You didn’t feel it either?” Something twists in your chest, audible through your voice.

Bucky opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Just a quiet breath, jagged and sharp around the edges.

“I didn’t mean to-” He stammered, shaking his head “I did.” He managed to get out.

The words make the air thicken, landing in between the both of you. Making your chest feel heavier with every breath you take.

“I did.” He repeats. I just didn’t know how to…show it.” He’s looking down now. Jaw clenched, his index finger rhythmically tapped against the side of his leg—an anxious tendency he couldn’t force himself out of even if he tried.

“I thought you were just doin’ your job.Just being kind, ‘cause that's what you do. Just being nice to me. Smiling even when I don’t say much.”

His eyebrows furrow like the memory hurts.

“ ‘nd I didn’t think I deserved that.”

His voice is deeper. Something more, something raw. Gaze flickering to yours.

You push yourself off of the chair, it softly scraping the floor. Red wine still dripping off the seat, slow and steady. Each step marked by the hollow click of your heels.

Your hands rise before you even realize it, cupping each side of his face. Feeling the stubble tickle the center of your palms. His breath stutters, and he freezes—afraid to move, afraid to ruin the moment.

And before you know it, you’re kissing him.

And he’s kissing you back.

His hands falter, before they hesitantly find your waist—pulling you closer. The kiss starts slow, and uncertain but feels like he’s been holding this in for far too long. Like a breath he thought he’d never be able to take. It’s not perfect. It’s messy. Your hearts are beating far too fast, but it’s real. It was never in your head. It was real.

When you finally pull back, your noses brush and for a beat—neither of you say anything. You’re both smiling. Like idiots. Like the weight from the past few weeks have lifted off your shoulders and drifted into the air surrounding you.

You never expected to end up working at the Avengers compound. You envisioned something quieter–simpler. It’s not the coastal hospital life you thought you’d have—But this isn’t so bad. You still don’t really have your shit together, but you’re getting there.

“Would you quit it!” Laughter fills the air as you try to push Bucky off of you. All you need to do is take his damn blood pressure, but it’s kind of hard when he keeps repeatedly pressing kisses on your head.

“Nope,” He places a kiss on your cheek as you struggle to wrap the cuff around his arm. “Not when you look so cute in those scrubs.”

The room smells like your favorite creamer filled coffee. He brings it every morning now—and he doesn’t even try to hide it anymore. Doesn’t need to. Natasha swears she called it from day one. And still—after everything,— teases you like no other.

You’re not one of those girls on tiktok, with cute matching scrubs. Or a cute stanley. Or a simplistic life.

But you’ve got someone who brings you coffee every morning. Stays up with you every night in the lab.

Keeps an extra hoodie in his room for you.

Buys your favorite flowers for you, so you always have a fresh bouquet.

Watches countless Gossip Girl reruns with you—even if he insists they’re all over dramatic.

Some nights he doesn’t say anything—just rests your head on his chest, until the world quiets down.

And maybe that’s better.

꒰ ©solixiaa ꒱ 

[watchtowerlogs]

I spent a day at the comic book shop last week and spent literally hours talking to the owner. He gave me quite a few recommendations and I bought loads of comic books (I fear I have no self control).

This is a list of the ones I bought:

- Titans/Young Justice - Graduation Day

- Batman: The Killing Joke and Batman: The Man Who Laughs

- Superman a meeting with Nightwing (translating these from Portuguese so I’m not sure on the name of these ones)

- Superman: Secret Identity

- Mr Miracle

Im actually really excited to read them, especially Mr Miracle as the guy at the comic book shop was explaining that Tom King, the writer, is a former CIA agent and writes with themes of PTSD and many other things he experienced while working, so that’s pretty cool.

Picture of the comics below (they’re all in Portuguese cause I’m living in Brazil for 2 months for an internship and I’m fluent in Portuguese so I thought might as well read in Portuguese)

As always I’m open to anymore recommendations, and if anyone has read any of these please let me know what you think of them!!!

[i-think-too-loud]

do you ever think about jean telling neil to get a good look at the sun before going into the nest? do you ever think about the fact that that’s very likely the first time he himself has seen it in 5 years that wasn’t through a bus window?

[hella1975]

getting a diagnosis for smthn is actually so crazy. 22 years old and looking back at my whole life like OHHHHHH. I GET IT NOW

[ishigamisenku]

No afterlife

No other side

I’m all alone

When it fades to black…

[pastelchad]

Sekaiichi hatsukoi is so much fun bc the tyrannical boss who takes their job way too seriously and the new employee who doesn’t know a damn thing is such a relatable concept and you can plop the entire cast into whatever au you want and it would still work just as well

[g0ldenboi333]

Happy International Women's Day to all the weird girls out there

[panthermouthh]

They don’t tell you that 90% of drawing comics is staring at a blank panel and thinking until your brain overheats

[vikingqueer]

fucking had the most rotten luck trying to catch legend II and caught 46 other random ass lake fish but not the ONE fish I was trying to catch

[rragnaroks]

well i've just seen my first dan and phil show!

[byanyan]

the way my mom had a friend over tn and she came up at one point and asked if she could ask what game i was playing......... and i had to be all "uh,,,,,, so u train horse girls and race them,,,,,"

[piecewithoutwork]

Still haven’t gotten over the fact that “sigma male” guys and that entire sphere of toxic masculinity used/use Patrick Bateman from American Psycho as a sort of figurehead. Like you still see people editing him into shitty sigma male videos with phonk music or using him as a profile picture like did any of you actually watch the film?

You know it’s a criticism of toxic masculinity and every behaviour you are reenforcing right? You know that drugging women, linking monetary value to personal value, using violence to get your way or display emotions, and objectifying women are all bad behaviours done by the bad guy and heavily and obviously discouraged by the film right? Right???

The only feasible reason I can see why this crowd chose Bateman as a figurehead (other than some double ironic bs or simple ignorance) is because of that one morning routine scene which when seen at a very surface level point of view could be seen as good things to do? But like any amateur writer or theatre kid could very well see that it is clearly also to a degree a mockery of the “Do this routine every morning to become a millionaire!” Philosophy of living and a great way to set up the entire themes of why maybe you shouldn’t equate your personal value to your monetary possessions but no instead you all saw the conventionally attractive businessman (who’s actor wore MAKEUP BECAUSE FUCK YOU AND YOUR GENDER STEREOTYPES) with the vain ostensibly admirable morning routine and went “Surely this cult classic has no writing nuance and like all media I will take it in at surface level and only watch and consider the ideas and parts of the film that reenforce my close-minded reductivist regressionary progress-killing rock-brained idiotic worldview!”

[astronomical-bagel]

d.does anyone wanna see the progress of my chrochet chilchuck

[dyketennant]

have been in a very bad headspace lately including intrusive thoughts acting up again and making simply existing in my body a survival horror experience. surely this has nothing to do with the fact that i have not taken my medication in the past three days

[salsa-ishida]

you're back!! it's been so long!! I missed you <3 <3

ahhhh I missed you too!! Life has been insistent on grinding me to a paste but we perservere