Glorious Purpose By @saturncave On Tumblr/Instagram

Glorious purpose 🌳✨ by @saturncave on Tumblr/Instagram

the fellowship + romance

characters included: aragorn, boromir, gimli, legolas, pippin

word count: 1177

summary: just some soft shit bc these men are all sappier than any tree in the greenwood

a/n: there’s still an overwhelming lack of gimli content that needs to be fixed and i will do my part

aragorn 🗡️

aragorn’s quiet presence is the warmest blanket on a cold night, the first bite of a meal you slaved over for hours, every comfort you’ve ever experienced

he’s never been one for overwhelming displays of his affections; instead, he shows you in simple ways that add up - giving you the more full bowls of broth, laying his blanket over you if he notices you shivering during night watch, sharpening your weapons (this one had gimli nearly brought to tears by the devotion it spoke of), anything that helps your days pass easier

he grew up around stories of elves who committed astounding feats in the name of those they loved, fighting wars and risking their lives with alarming frequency. but none of them ever talked about the everyday ways they showed love. his mother taught him what she could about those things, stories of his father’s steady presence and stalwart love for his family. a young aragorn took these lessons to heart and used them when the time was right

it was why, when he caught his heart skipping beats around you, he let his actions do the speaking for him. without fail you would thank him with a soft smile, slowly coming to realize that aragorn felt something much deeper for you than camaraderie. when you woke up early one morning to find your weapons sharper than they were the day before (not for the first time), you went straight to aragorn and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. he nearly dropped your bowl of stew in his flustered state

having your affections secured didn’t mean he stopped his small acts of kindness, it did quite the opposite. it just made him bolder and more confident in his actions

boromir 🍻

this man is so damn tactile it’s ridiculous

if you’re the cuddly type like he is, it makes him all the more eager to always have some form of physical contact with you, no matter where you may be

unless you tell him to back off, he is always touching you one way or another. a gentle hand on the small of your back, your pinkies interlocked, an arm wrapped around your shoulder, anything to keep you close to him

his favorite time of day eventually becomes the end of it, because that’s when he can hold you close and whisper soft words of love in your ear while he holds you. he makes it his goal to give you a goodnight kiss every night you spend together

the best cuddle position in his mind is you leaning your back against his chest, one of his hands resting on your hip where his thumb rubs small circles above the bone, and his chin resting on your shoulder just right to where he can turn his head to kiss your cheek or burrow his face into your neck

gimli 🛡️

valiantly is the best way to describe how gimli approaches any situation he comes upon, including (and especially) matters of the heart

this is a dwarf who says what he means & means what he says, who does nothing that he wouldn’t be proud of the next day. because of this, you couldn’t find it in you to not believe him when he professed his love for you with such unwavering confidence you were nearly brought to tears. gimli never said anything just because his lips could move so you simply had to believe him

will do you favors big and small simply because he wants to help you however possible. you can’t remember the last time you carried your own pack or made your own bowl of soup. if you encouraged him (which you wouldn’t), this romantic fool would not let you lift another finger for as long as you both live

he grew up watching his parents with keen eyes, his adad showing him by example how a true dwarf treats their one. he embodies these lessons with every interaction with you, striving to be the one you deserve him to be. it ranges from the ferocity of his protection to opening doors for you. may mahal strike him down if he ever hurts you

he just wants to be a dwarf you’re proud to love, proud to call yours

legolas 🏹

physical affection can be difficult for him, but one thing legolas is good at doing is speaking his mind and his heart

if you thought his regular speaking pattern was overflowing with poetic descriptors, you’ve heard nothing compared to when he’s being truly romantic. no one you’d been with before had ever described you with such beautiful prose, never whispered soft poetry about your eyes to lull you to sleep

and he’s a cheeky bastard about it too! it’ll be a regular conversation between friends, nothing important, then BAM! he’s making quippy one-liners about your overwhelming skill/beauty/personality that catch you off guard and has your friends cackling at your flustered reaction to his flattery

even better, his praise will often include sindarin and on the off chance you don’t speak it, you’ll have to gauge the meaning from the silent looks shared between your dear elf and aragorn (doesn’t really work). eventually legolas tells you what some of them mean; after all, he needs to have an element of intrigue about him or his name isn’t legolas thranduillion

he carries a lot of pride for you and will brag about you to anyone who listens, his melleth being one of unparalleled skill and beauty and bright laughter that carries his soul on great wings

pippin 🥕

his already strong need to be silly and foolish grows exponentially when he finds out how happy it makes you

pip doesn’t care what it is you ask of him, he will do anything to hear your laugh. he’ll put baby carrots in his nostrils, respond to conversations exclusively in farm animal noises, he will even do his spot-on impressions of the rest of the fellowship and make them say all sorts of silly things

the best one to date is him doing an aragorn impression that consists of all the different ways he says legolas’s name

you’ve never heard such astounding colloquialisms from anyone until you met pippin - “don’t eat half the berries and say the pie shell’s too big,” “his cornbread isn’t done in the middle,” “if brains were leather, he wouldn't have enough to saddle a junebug” - and each time he says one, there’s always a not-so-subtle look to you so he can see your reaction. the ones that get the most laughs are used a little bit more, just enough to not lose their appeal but enough to hear your laughter all the more often

there is a single-minded determination to hear your snort when you laugh at something he says, and he will not rest until you do. his personal goal to do this resets each time you do actually snort, him now aiming for the next joke or prank that will bring it out again

o que eu vim fazer em sococo da ema , cidade maldita , nao venha , nao venha

This is like ambrosia in written form

Imagine waking up in an alternate reality where you and Loki are a newlywed couple living in the suburbs

This isn't my bed.

You opened your eyes, finding yourself nestled in pine green sheets of sateen. How did I even get here? As soon as you sat up, your eyes darted about the room.

Large and luxurious seemed to describe the queen-sized bed you were sitting in. The bedroom had off-white painted walls, a large ebony dresser with a mirror that perfectly captured your reflection, and a three-paned window offering a view of an idyllic suburban neighborhood.

From there, you could see a clean yard with rose bushes and yellow dandelions, all behind a white picket fence. There was a walkway, leading up to what could only be assumed to be the front door. And there was even a little mailbox with a green flag.

You blinked in disbelief at the sight, and decided to turn your attention to the rest of the bedroom. The next thing that caught your eye was the nightstand, which was ebony to match the dresser. Maybe it was part of a set.

On the nightstand was a set of silk ribbons, a wristwatch, and a framed photo. You picked up the frame and saw yourself in a wedding gown, smiling while being hugged by a tall man with dark curls that framed his long, pale face. His eyes crinkled at the corner as he grinned, looking at the camera as if this were the happiest moment of his life. The two of you seemed so perfect together, maybe even in love. The photo was in black and white, so you couldn't say much about the color of his eyes. However, it was obvious that he was wearing a black suit with a lily boutonniere. Classy.

"Morning, darling!"

You looked up to see the same man from the photo, except his curls were dripping and he wore a fluffy, black bathrobe. It didn't take long for you to notice his striking cheekbones, and the besotted look in his eyes that almost resembled the way he looked in the photo. But in all fairness, the camera did not do his beauty complete justice.

He came closer to you and gently planted his lips on yours. He tasted of mint, and his skin smelled like rain. You slowly reciprocated the kiss, putting your fingers on his cheek.

"Were you taking a trip down memory lane?" The man fondly asked, glancing at the photo. "I still can't believe that was only two months ago. Can you?"

You shook your head.

He hugged you from behind and kissed the top of your hair. "I'll finish getting dressed, and then meet you in the kitchen for breakfast."

You climbed out of bed, oblivious to a ring on your left hand. "Where...where are you going,...darling?" You swallowed.

"To work," he chuckles. "Can't be starting a Nexus Event at my own workplace." The man examines himself in the dresser's mirror. Then, he opens a drawer, retrieves a small pot of facial moisturizer, and dabs it on his forehead, rubbing it in circles. "You know the TVA, darling."

"The...Time Variance Authority," you mumbled, watching his reflection. "I should...I should go."

You hurried out of the bedroom, down a long hallway filled with pieces of generic artwork, and into a kitchen.

"What do you think of having pancakes this morning?" The man could be heard asking while you entered what seemed to be the kitchen kitchen.

As if the place were taken straight from the 1950s, everything - the oven, the fridge, the cabinets, and even the wallpaper - was completely pastel green, a shade of seafoam. Why is there so much green in this house?, you asked yourself.

Maybe it was because you watched too many sitcoms, or had seen too many vintage photos, but the first thing you did was put on an apron that had been laying around. And then, you opened the fridge, which was fully stocked with everything: a full carton of milk, a dozen eggs, various vegetables, some cuts of meat wrapped in butcher paper, and cheddar cheese.

Pancakes, you thought to yourself, taking the eggs and milk out of the fridge. Thankfully, there was an unopened box of pancake mix on one of the kitchen countertops. Yes it was strange, cooking breakfast for a man whose name you didn't even know, but he'd been so sweet to you. And maybe if you were on his good side, you could actually get some answers about who he was. "Hm..." A few moments later, while you were mixing the pancake batter in a large bowl, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist. "I just can't get enough of you." The man's dulcet voice tickled your ears.

You laughed politely as he kissed your cheek. When you looked over your shoulder, you noticed he was wearing a white button-down shirt , a dark tie, and brown dress pants that showed off his perfectly-tight ass. For a moment, it made you blush. Apparently, the man noticed...and promptly winked in your direction.

As you heated the pan and greased it with butter, you could hear the man pouring himself a cup of coffee or tea, and then opening a newspaper.

"I'm cancelling drinks with Mobius tonight," the man casually said. "Coming straight home after work."

Not knowing at all who he could be referring to, you scooped the batter into the pan and watched it sizzle. "Why?"

He flipped a page of the newspaper. "Because he's making me watch another set of boring trading videos today. It's tedious, honestly." The man smiles when the scent of warm pancakes reaches his nose. "What I wouldn't give to be back on our honeymoon."

"Me too," you lied, placing the golden-brown pancakes onto a plate.

The man set the news paper aside and walked up to you, stroking your hair. "Maybe, tonight...we could even finish what we started on our honeymoon."

"Oh?" You found yourself smiling while you flipped two pancakes.

He whispered, "We could continue trying for a baby."

Don't burn the pancakes. Do NOT burn the pancakes. Blinking, you placed the two new ones with the rest of them on a plate, trying not to let your hand tense around the spatula. "A baby..." You put the plate of pancakes on the dining table, gently pushing aside the newspaper.

Next to the paper was a laminated id badge. It read, 'Time Variance Authority, Name: Loki Laufeyson, Role: Variant, ID: L1130'. You swallowed. struggling to look away from the badge as you tried to understand who the man really was. "Loki?"

"Those smell amazing, darling." Loki sat down and drizzled syrup on the pancakes. Then, procuring a bottle out of thin air, he sprayed a large peak of whipped cream on top.

You handed him a fork and knife, watching him begin to eat.

"Mm!" He moaned, closing his eyes for a moment. "This is delicious! Mm, I knew I married the right woman."

"Married?"

Loki chuckled before feeding you a forkful of pancake, syrup and whipped cream. "I love you more every day, Mrs. Laufeyson."

You gave him a gentle smile while chewing. "I...I love you more, Mr. Laufeyson." You made two pancakes for yourself, turned off the stove, and ate them while sitting across the table from Loki. How could it be possible that you were married to the God of Mischief, the younger prince of Asgard, the frost giant?

While eating, you glanced at your left hand, surprised by the sight of an elegant emerald ring with a gold band placed on your middle finger. But before you could ask Loki about any of this, the God of mischief put his now-empty plate in the sink. "I'd best be off now." He put his arm around your shoulder and pecked you on the lips. "Ah, parting is such sweet sorrow."

Loki walked towards the door with a brown jacket and a briefcase. "Wait! Loki!" You followed him out of the kitchen. "You forgot your badge."

Loki smiled, tapping the left side of his chest. "Pin it here, darling." He watched you with nothing but pure, unadulterated affection. "What would I do without you?" When you'd gotten the badge on his shirt, Loki gave you one last kiss. "No matter what happens," he softly said your name, "never doubt that I love you. I'll see you tonight, darling."

Taglist: @lokischambermaid @lokiismineforever @lokidbadguy @lokisgoodgirl @lokisprettygirl22 @smolvenger @holdmytesseract @wheredafandomat @wolfsmom1 @lovelysizzlingbluebird @evelyn-kingsley @muddyorbsblr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @icytrickster17 @thatdummy-girl @fantasyfan4life @huntress-artemiss @itsdoni @gruftiela @ellooo0ooo @ireallyneedtherapy @jennyggggrrr @anukulee @turniptitaness

Day After Tomorrow

pairing: bucky barnes x sick!neighbor!reader

summary: enhanced hearing is both a blessing and a curse. eavesdropping, loud music, footsteps and when your sweet neighbor has been coughing her pretty head off all day.

author note: i’m sick and binging twilight so blame that for this being created.

w.c: 3.6k

The last time Bucky remembers living on his own was – well never. Romanian doesn't really count in his mind because he definitely was not mentally aware then, not himself, on autopilot, whatever you want to say. Even before hydra and before the army, it was him living under his mom's roof and then a small apartment with Steve before he got shipped off to sleep like sardines in camps.

Then we all know what happened next. Pretty much getting coddled by Captain America, on a leash by the government, or asleep in a cryo chamber in princess Shuri’s lab.

So when Bucky finally got snapped back, a pardon on behalf of Steve Rogers – before he quite literally abandoned him. Sam was there at least, Sam didn't make him feel shitty for not being the old Bucky because Sam first met him when he was literally trying to shoot him in the head. So you can only go up from here.

Sam helped him find an apartment, Brooklyn was the only requirement, and he delivered. They went to IKEA, which is amazing by the way. Bucky thinks it's the best thing to come from the continent of Europe. They bought the necessities, a couch, a bed (it's been 6 months and bucky still hasn't touched it but doesn’t matter), a coffee pot, and one plant. It was a succulent and apparently impossible to kill, Sam said it would liven up his apartment. But it was hard to do that when his curtains were always shut.

The best thing about the apartment complex was it was mostly filled with old people, Bucky got along with old people well. And they were all pretty quiet and nice. There were a few other college students that lived there. Bucky heard they were all medical students and probably picked the cheapest place to live close enough to campus. Their music was loud sometimes and they stayed up late but minded their business for the most part.

Then there was the girl across the hall. He only saw you a few times, the first time he thought you were one of those beautiful girls he'd see in the magazines they smuggled on camp. You left your apartment at the same time as Bucky did, you had a bag slung over your shoulder like you were going to work or school. Bucky watches you intently, Sam would probably call him creepy for staring, but Bucky couldn't shake the fact you were the most beautiful woman he's seen.

And as you turned and gave him a small pursed smile, Bucky tugged his sleeve down. A habit from his anxieties, also the paranoia that everyone knew. “You just moved in?” you asked him, Bucky wasn't expecting a conversation now. But that was part of being a functioning human, so he gulped down the lump in his throat and curled into himself. Making him as small and less intimidating as possible.

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded, god this was awkward but he couldn’t even fathom anything else to say to you. He was horrible at this.

But you were a godsend of a human and gave him the warmest smile, “I'm surprised more people haven't moved in since everyone came back. We’re you– uh, blipped? Is that what people are calling it?”

Bucky wanted to smile, but it just didn’t translate from his brain to his body and he was scared it would look creepy. “Yeah, I was blipped. Were you?”

“No, I wasn't. But I’m sorry that happened to you, if you need any help re-adjusting I’m right here.” you offered, gesturing to your door. Bucky sucked in a hard breath, it was weird being offered help. Weirder for a total stranger to pity him for what happened, if only you knew the full picture. It didn’t stop from pulling at his heartstrings as he stood absolutely dumbfounded in front of you.

You weren't scared off though, despite how utterly awkward and creepy Bucky felt standing in there, shifting on his feet and not responding. He had to rack his brain for the words of gratitude.

“Thank you.” he choked out, and you just fucking smiled again and Bucky felt like he was going to cry. “And I'm uh- I’m James, by the way.”

“Y/N, Don't be a stranger,” you said, before bidding him goodbye and waving him off as you disappeared down the stairs.

Bucky probably stood there for another minute or two just kicking himself for how horrible he was at talking to girls.

Bucky only saw you a few more times after that, some stuck out for than others.

It was way too late to be up, but Bucky was practically nocturnal at this point, a fucking vampire that winced when Sam barged into his apartment to pull back the blinds so he’d get an ounce of vitamin D.

Bucky had a basket of all blacks on his hip, the complex has a laundry room since none of the apartments had one. You would put money in a little machine and it would give coins you could only use on another machine, not to mention they got jammed half the time and stole your money. Bucky thought it was stupid.

He stopped dead in his tracks at the bottom of the stairs. The familiar head of hair threw clothes into the dryer and slotted the coins into the machine, they didn’t get jammed. Bucky tried to ignore your presence, maybe it would have been more polite to greet you.

Throwing his clothes in the machine and followed the usual routine, except Bucky heard the coins trickle down and get stuck. Fuck. Bucky pressed the button with his gloved hand, mostly out of frustration. Nothing happened.

“Hey, let me.” a soft voice spoke from behind him, a light pressure on his shoulder as you touched him. Bucky tensed at the touch, you didn't notice but Bucky moved away from you. “These old things barely work anymore, you just got to give them some tough love.”

Bucky just watched as you banged on the machine, if Bucky did this he might have broken it. He heard the metal clink down and you pushed the start cycle and it began to work just fine.

“That's easy, huh? Lost probably a total of 10 dollars and I just needed to punch it.”

You laughed and it felt like heaven in his chest, “you just have to outsmart the machine.” you snarked, lifting yourself onto one of the vacant machines and waiting for your cycle to be done. You wore a small shirt and a small pair of sleep shorts. Bucky felt hot by the amount of skin you were showing. Fuck, what was he? 16 again?

“I’ve had a lot of doing that recently.” Bucky said, almost murmuring to himself but you listened.

“I bet, catching up on what? 90 years of technology – must be hard,” you said so plainly like it didn't make Bucky’s head stop. Popping his head up with a panicked face.

You did know… and you didn't run. Weird.

“You know me?”

You swung your feet innocently, a small grin on your face as you pushed your hair away from your face. Cute. “James, I had to do a paper on the howling commandos in middle school.”

“Really?” he asked, genuinely surprised. He sometimes forgets he’s famous for other reasons than being a world-renowned assassin.

“Yeah, and I keep hearing the two girls that live down on floor 2 gossiping about you.”

Bucky’s face dropped. “Gossip, huh? Bad or good.”

Probably bad, it’s always bad.

You bit your cheek, wondering if you should lie and spare him the horrid memories. “Mostly they were devising a plan to get the falcon– caps number from you. They also think you look like James Dean.”

Bucky knew James Dean. Pop culture wise he started in the 50s, so he knew him enough.

“I think that's the best compliment I've ever gotten,” Bucky said, a slight quirk on his lips. You hadn't realized how blue his eyes were until you started to get trapped in them, only being ripped away when the ding of the machine made you flinch.

“Well, I’ll make sure to relay your gratitude,” you said, throwing the rest of your clothes into the hamper.

Bucky wanted so painfully for you to linger and wait till his cycle was done, to talk to him about your day so he could know more about the mysterious, beautiful girl across the hall. Maybe you could walk back together, Bucky would offer to carry your basket because he does still remember to be a gentleman.

Maybe Bucky was just grasping onto the thought of not being alone.

but you smiled at him so warmly, waved, and turned your back but god- he just wanted to keep you in place. to stay. He wasn’t sure what came over him but he felt empty when you left. so weird.

Bucky finished his laundry in silence and made sure to lightly (light for him) bang on the dryer after he put the coins in.

it surprisingly didn’t take long for you to run into him again, in the lobby. laundry room, again. the halls and weirdly, he saw you ordering an iced americano at the coffee shop across the street.

you two became… acquaintances. That's how Bucky would describe it.

Bucky was not a creep, or a stalker. He was just caring and very curious. it was also kinda unavoidable with his super soldier hearing, but he heard everything. He's pretty much got a pretty good idea of your music taste, always some indie or punk rock playing during the day, softer music during the night. He heard 40s music once and almost went feral trying to hold himself back from knocking on your door.

He heard the television when you watch shows, or when you get into heated conversations with people over the phone (those get very interesting at times). Bucky had heard you having a life crisis as you shoved all your furniture around at 2 am and decorated the walls. He also hears when you have people over, oh how shitty he felt with himself when he realized you had a boy - a date over. jealousy was a newer emotion, maybe it was even envy.

and now as the winter season rolls around and the city gets colder, Bucky sometimes forgot about people getting colds or head flu. serum and all. Recently, Bucky's heard nothing but sneezing and coughing from his next-door neighbor. He was worried, is that creepy?

So much so that he ran down to the local Thai place, and he went there often. They had really good food. Bucky passed the bright red and green lights for Christmas, the snow coated the ground and he gained a few odd looks from passersby at the little amount of clothing he wore.

Bucky Barnes had a plan, you knew he was… enhanced. So the whole hearing you thing wouldn’t be that creepy? maybe. Either way, he was going to “coincidentally bring home leftover food that he will oh-so-graciously let you have while he makes sure you're not dying of a head cold.” because he worries

his hand hovered over the wooden door, a moment contemplating if this was a bad idea. but before he knew it the echoed sound of knocking filled his ears and he heard you padding your feet toward him.

Yeah, you looked horrible. red nose, bedhead, and dark eyes m. you looked incredibly pale too, there looked to be no life in you.

“hey, James!” your voice was raspy but you tried to sound cheery and happy despite how much you felt like dying as you stood up. “what are you doing?”

“I’ve been hearing you cough your head off for the past day, and I brought home some leftovers for you. Can I come in?”

you looked utterly astonished. your eyes glanced up and down and back at the bag of food. Bucky noticed the way you were swaying on your feet and grasping at the door frame. you needed to sit down.

“uh, yeah. I just- I don't want to get you sick.” you worried, but still moved out of the way slightly for Bucky.

“Don’t worry, doll. perks of that serum.” Bucky chuckled, your face relaxed and you showed him to your kitchen.

“Oh, right.”

Bucky followed and set the plastic bag on the counter, going through and grabbing the two containers of soup. He noticed the photos stuck to the fridge, pictures of you with friends and smiling wildly. his heart warmed. Bucky also didn’t miss the messy couch, from the fleece blankets, stray tissues and glass of sprite. you’d been officially camping out there for the last few days.

“Do you want something? tea, water, alcohol if you're in the mood.” Bucky turned around to see you reaching on your tippy toes for the cups. He jumped to grab it out of your hands and push you away.

“Hey, you’re sick. go sit down.” Bucky said, you frowned slightly.

“I don't want to be rude,” you whine.

“you’re not rude, you're sick.” Bucky pressed his hands to your shoulder and sat you down on the island's barstool.

“The lady at the Thai place said this could help with a head cold.” Bucky explained, pushing the soup towards you. He found the silverware drawer on his third guess. “supposably it’s jacked up on chili peppers and ginger, so it’s spicy.”

your hand shakes slightly as you bring it to your lips, “mhmm, good. you try.”

“no, it’s for you.”

“James, grab a spoon and try it,” you state, sliding the bowl over to the brunette.

Reluctantly, Bucky takes another spoon and brings the liquid to his lips. you laugh loudly at his reaction, he winced as the soup goes down his throat. coughing wildly at the spice.

“It’s not that bad!”

Bucky speaks through coughs, “I don't like spice.”

“more like can’t handle it obviously.” you snark, snatching the bowl back from him.

“poor kids in the 40s didn’t have much more than salt and pepper, doll.” Bucky says as if it's the most obvious thing ever. but it was hard to remember when he still looked like an attractive 30-something-year-old. You chuckle under your breath.

“Well, it’s time to build up to your tolerance, Barnes.” you bring the spoon up to his lips, and Bucky flushes a light pink. he hopes - prays that you think it’s just from the chili pepper.

Bucky shakes his head, “I'm not a masochist, eat your food. I spend the army’s good money on that.”

you smile at the light jab, letting the liquid run down your throat. a satisfied hum leaves you, Bucky makes a mental note to get you the dish again.

Bucky let you eat in peace, finding his way around your kitchen after having to reject your offer second to host him, again. he found the tea bags and kettle and started boiling water, as his hand grasped around the handle to pour the water into a “Ohio is for lovers” cup Bucky was hit with a weird distant yet familiar feeling. the feeling of normalcy and comfort he’s so avoided for decades.

it was the closest thing to how he felt in Wakanda, but better. because he was a charity case in Wakanda, this was normal. in a small New York apartment, caring for a sick girl by feeding her Thai food.

Bucky had to snap himself out of it before you started to get creeped by him staring daggers into your tea. his eyes shot up to you, your hand massaging your shoulder with a twisted face.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. just a knot in my shoulder from playing dead on the couch.” you laugh and wave it off, but bucky’s already rounding the island towards you. He motions to your right shoulder, tapping at your fingers where they dig into your skin. “oh no, it’s okay.”

“Just let me. I used to have to get the knots out of a young pre-serum Captain America once." Bucky says, digging his thumb into your shoulder. you instantly tense, Bucky lets off the pressure as you relax into him. slowly building it up. “Little punk had horrible posture, he’d sit on this bench in bridge park and just draw for hours while I did laps.”

Bucky laughs to himself in reference to the distant memory, he left out the part where he hid the fact he was exercising for the army — and hiding it from Steve. you smile warmly with him, “I can't imagine the shock of seeing your 5 '4 childhood best friends look like — like, uhh.”

“like Captain America?”

“yeah, like Captain America.”

Bucky hums, “well, I first saw him like that when he rescued me from the POW camp. was jacked up on hydra drugs and thought I was hallucinating,”

a soft mewl comes from your lips as Bucky gets his thumb around the knot in your shoulder, your head falls down onto his chest lightly and another moan leaves you. Bucky tugged at his bottom lip as he glanced down at you, gulping down his nerves and having to physically tear his eyes from you before he started to get the wrong idea.

too late though. you made a soft noise again and Bucky thought about what it would feel like to have you make more of these noises, but with Bucky's hands elsewhere. anywhere else.

“There, you got it. thank you.” you breathed a harsh breath and push away the half-empty soup.

“done?” Bucky pushed himself away from you.

“mhm.”

Bucky feels a weird sense of deja vu while taking care of you, it’s nice - deja vu - it means he remembers. remembers taking care of Steve like this. Bucky puts the dishes away, he’ll offer to clean them later. you're sipping at the tea he made, bucky's eyes glance to the living room. the television was paused in the middle of a movie, and your shoulder began to sag again.

“What movie were you watching?” Bucky asks.

“uhh,” you smile shyly, glancing from the screen to Bucky. “Twilight.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows, showing no recognition of the name. Once again you forget you’re technically talking to a 100-year-old man that probably was too busy being brainwashed to watch Twilight at the peak of its fame.

“oh! it’s some stupid vampire-werewolf movie, it was really popular like 10-15 years ago. kind of iconic.” you laugh quietly.

“perfect. you need rest and I need to catch up on the 20th century, yeah?”

-

“Where the hell have you been, loca?” you whisper under your breath, laughing to yourself at the stupid line.

Your head lay comfortably on the armrest of your couch, Bucky sat across from you and was currently being used as a footrest. He took the position proudly and traced circles into your calves, you tried to ignore the blush and goosebumps on your skin when he did.

“do you know every line?”

“My niece was obsessed with these movies when she was little, every weekend we had to rewatch one of them.” you scoff, “so yeah, kind of.”

Bucky snorts, scrunching his face up when Jacob shrugs off his t-shirt. “Also, why doesn't Bella just get over Edward and get with Jacob?”

The only women Bucky has genuinely feared in his life were his mother, Steve’s mother, and Natasha. you were suddenly added to the list when your gaze turned to him, mouth gaped open lightly as you looked at Bucky as if you were going to kill him.

“Did I say something wrong?” he asks innocently.

“Please don’t tell me you’re team Jacob.”

“Team Jacob?” Bucky wears his confused face again.

“Team Jacob and Team Edward. Which one are you on?” your eyes shoot daggers at him as he scrambles for an answer.

“I think Jacob.”

you open your mouth wide to argue, explain that their entire relationship dynamic and why Bucky is wrong. but you don’t, you just give him a death glare and slowly gaze back to the television. “you’ll change your mind.”

Bucky smiles. He thinks you’re cute, too cute. “Okay, who would you date?”

without skipping a beat. “easy. Carlisle.”

“Really?”

“mhm, but Jacob with the long hair is really hot.” you smile, “shame he cut it.”

“So you like a guy with long hair?” Bucky teases, ready to exaggeratedly brush his hair behind his ears to tease you more. then remembering he cut it. shame.

“Maybe,” you smile. “didn’t you have long hair?”

“used to.”

you look at him intently, like you were imagining him with the grown-out brunette hair. other than the fleet pictures and videos you saw of him on the news back in 2014, when he wore a dark mask and even darker eye makeup.

you hum contently, like the image pleased you. “You should grow it out again.”

Bucky felt dizzy when his eyes met yours, he couldn’t pull away even if he tried. “maybe.”

nodding, you were content with that answer and gazed back to the screen. by the end of the movie you were dead and passed out and those plans to get him caught up on Twilight would have to resume later.

Bucky thought for a moment. If the first person he grows a normal, non-superhero, 21st-century relationship with was you. He'd be happy ending up here, not grief and trauma filled with Steve leaving and what hydra did. no — maybe, grateful even if it was just moments like this with you.

Gently, Bucky laid another fleece blanket over you and did your dishes, put away the leftovers, and turned the screen off. it was weirdly domestic, it warmed his chest.

if Bucky wanted to be hopeful for once, maybe he would try for something more than just neighbors or acquaintances.

-

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For All Time, It Was Always You

Chapter 3 - Happy to Keep His Dinner Warm

A/N: It's a series now! Thank you all for your positive comments, your likes, and reblogs. Click here for Chapter 2: Mrs. Laufeyson

(Pairing: Loki x Wife!Reader)

Summary: The best way to a man's - or a god's - heart is through his stomach.

Warnings: Fluff, silliness, an infomercial that's not meant to offend anyone.

You turned the knob of the television in the living room, letting a soap opera play in the background while you washed the dishes - including those from Loki's breakfast - and preheated the oven. Then, following the cookbook's instructions, you prepared the batter for an angel food cake, a dessert you were hoping to dress with whipped cream and strawberries for your - yes, you were really saying it - husband. If there were two jars of strawberry jam, maybe it meant that Loki really liked strawberries. Or there was some kind of two-for-one deal at the store. 

While the cake baked in the oven, you took a shower after tinkering with the hot and cold faucets. With a towel wrapped around yourself when you were done, you shuffled your feet into the master bedroom. You opened one of the large wardrobes opposite from the window, finding an entire rack of crisp white shirts and brown dress pants - probably Loki's uniform for work - along with tuxedos and pajamas. You didn't think about opening the drawers beneath the racks of clothing, assuming they would be filled with your husband's underwear and socks. 

Speaking of underwear…where was the laundry room? You made a mental note to find it at some point, so you could use the washing machine. Also, did Loki wear boxers or briefs? Biting your lip, you brought yourself to imagine which of the two it could be, thinking of the way you checked out his ass that morning while making breakfast. How nicely the fabric hugged the curve of his rear. It definitely had to be boxers, surely briefs would've left some kind of outline. Or…what if he wasn't wearing any underneath those pants? You bit the inside of your cheek and crossed your arms, still damp from your shower. 

The smell of vanilla wafting into the bedroom silently reminded you that the cake was done, like an invisible tap on the shoulder. You snapped out of your reverie, looked through the other wardrobe and found a flattering midi-dress to wear over a lacy bra and a girdle. Now dressed, you took the golden-brown, light to the touch, warm cake out of the oven and let it cool. Meanwhile, the soap opera on the living room television was now replaced by a vague infomercial for a fancy kitchen gadget made by Stark Industries. You didn't know what it really did, or how much it cost, but it was apparently 'life-changing', 'ground-breaking', and only made by Stark Industries. 

It didn't take long for you to find a few other gadgets laying around the house. Inside a closet within the hallway was a vacuum cleaner, which you used to clean the living room and the other carpets in the house. Not that there was anything much to clean, considering the house seemed spotless to begin with. While you moved the vacuum around the welcome mat, you looked over your shoulder at a new infomercial.

"Are you tired of playing the dating game over and over again? Exasperated by the lack of paramours unwilling to cuddle with you? Does the loneliness of the night bring you sadness? Tired of all the nights alone with you and your fingertips? Do you wish for an attractive sweetheart you can flaunt to your friends and family, and to all the nosy strangers who ask why you're still single? Introducing the newest product from Cambridge Technologies, TOM H."

The spokesperson gestured to a six-foot tall male with perfectly combed dark-blonde hair with a slight curl, wearing a navy blue blazer and a matching set of trousers with a light blue dress shirt underneath. "Look at him," the spokesperson beamed. "His cheekbones are so sharp, I could grate cheese on them!"

The male smirked. "I love cheese, 'specially when paired with wine. And the company of a lovely lady."

Wait…this man looked familiar. Where had you seen him before? Squinting, you turned off the vacuum and began to fluff the pillows on the couch, keeping your eyes on the screen.With a fake laugh, the spokesperson turned to face the camera.

"Short for Technologically-Optimized Male Humanoid, TOM H. is equipped with the ability to speak seven different languages, including French, Spanish, and even Latin. He can open doors for your, pull your chair out, hold an umbrella for you when it rains, and even apologize for calling you beautiful! That's right, ladies, he's got every single piece of etiquette mastered at the back of his hand. No more worrying about guys who laugh at misogynistic jokes, or guys who treat you like a piece of meat. Our new android will make sure you spend everyday feeling like a princess!"

You continued to reluctantly clean the living room while the spokesperson continued to brag about the abilities of this supposedly life-like android. How many other people were watching this advertisement right now? And were any of them actually considering buying this android? Moreover, how would one actually take care of an android? Did it require charging like any other electronic device? Did it pretend to sleep at night?

On-screen, the spokesperson showed the android relaxing in bed, wearing nothing but boxers, and droned on and on about the android's ability to give warm cuddles and recite poetry at the drop of a hat. Then the scene changed to the android standing in the kitchen, wearing a black apron over a three-piece suit and preparing some kind of pasta dish. The android gave a cheeky smile to the camera, as if it was perfectly aware that somewhere, some touch-starved single person would be watching and immediately reach for their checkbook. 

"Call the number on-screen," the spokesperson announced, "and for just four separate payments of $599.99, TOM H. can be all yours. And for a bonus payment of $49.99, we'll throw in a blue jumper!

Please note that all clothes are sold separately, including the boxers. Cambridge Technologies is not responsible for the android crying. The android may experience urges to play with puppies and babies, do kind deeds for strangers, or dance in public. For optimal performance, we ask that you refrain from raising your voice in the presence of the android, and to feed the android tea every six hours."

"Oh my god." You gulped, standing still for a moment. The commercial finally ended with an image of the android giving the spokesperson a shoulder massage, and smiling at the camera. You switched the channel, and put away the vacuum, shuddering at what you'd just seen.

The next thing to worry about was the spaghetti bolognese, another recipe from the cookbook you chose for tonight Luckily there was a pack of ground mince in the fridge, otherwise you would've had to either rush to the supermarket - wherever that was - or pick something else to make for Loki's dinner. With the cookbook propped open on the kitchen countertop, you flipped to the recipe and did your best to follow every instruction. Chop the carrots, the celery, the onion, and the bacon, it said…Then, heat the pot with a generous amount of butter, add bacon…Put the rest of the vegetables in the pan, along with the mince. While that cooked in the pan, you opened a can of tomatoes from the pantry, poured it into the pan, causing it to sizzle loud enough to overpower the television for a moment. The final ingredients to add were dried herbs, a splash of red wine, and for some reason…milk. 

After moving the cake to the center of the table, you stirred the pot with the Bolognese mixture until the alcohol from the wine boiled off. The final step, according to the cookbook, was to place the entire pot in the oven at one-hundred eighty degrees Celsius for…well, enough time to stew everything. 

You closed the oven door with a sigh, wiping a trace of sweat on your forehead before taking a box of spaghetti out of one of the cupboards. Yes it was true that you'd only known Loki for a few hours, not even a whole day. And yet, you found yourself wishing and hoping that he would be pleased when he walked into the door. That when he opened the door, the smell of dinner would entice him to the table, and the sight of you would entice him into your arms. Maybe it was because of the way he looked at you this morning, with affection in his eyes as if you were the most priceless thing in his life.

As the noodles cooked in a pot of boiling water, you dressed the cake with whipped cream and chopped-up strawberries, and then chopped cucumbers, tomatoes, olives, and red onions for a side dish.  Within about thirty minutes, you had a pot of cooked spaghetti dressed in bolognese  sauce, a lettuce-free salad dressed with olive oil and red wine vinegar, and an angel food cake reserved for dessert. And just as a finishing touch, you set the dining table for two and lit a few candles. 

"Darling, we're home! Something smells amazing." At the doorway with a large grin on his face was Loki, standing in his work clothes with his dark curls slightly messy, dirt caking his fingertips,…and a black kitten in his arms.  Tagging: @anukulee @smolvenger @pineappleandro @lotsoflokilove23 @talklokitome @rumin8ting @12-pm-510 @painedfever @iambetterthanbefore @princess-ofthe-pages @thenotoriouserg @lokischambermaid @lokiismineforever @lokidbadguy @lokisgoodgirl @lokisprettygirl22 @holdmytesseract @wheredafandomat @wolfsmom1 @lovelysizzlingbluebird @evelyn-kingsley @muddyorbsblr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @icytrickster17 @thatdummy-girl @fantasyfan4life @huntress-artemiss @itsdoni @gruftiela @ellooo0ooo @ireallyneedtherapy @jennyggggrrr @turniptitaness