I Love Royal Aus. Bonus Point Because Its My Lili

I love royal aus. bonus point because it’s my lili

your highness ☆— p. sunghoon

synopsis ➔ sunghoon isn’t tricked by the princess into attending a party and he is tricked into a kiss.

pairing ➔ royal!fem!reader x bodyguard!sunghoon

genre ➔ fluff, royal!au

word count ➔ tba.

warnings ➔ 3rd person, protective sunghoon, mentions of poison, reader can order sunghoon to do whatever she pleases (but she doesn’t really use it against him)

a/n ➔ had an idea and wanted to write it as fast as i could so sorry if it’s shit. also it’s not proof read/edited. live laugh love royal sunghoon

“And remind me what your duties are as my bodyguard?”

Y/n presses further, already skimming through her large closet for the perfect dress for the masquerade. Sunghoon, dressed in his perfectly ironed uniform of a navy suit with gold and gleaming accents, crosses his arms and gives her a stern look through her vanity mirror, which reveals her cheeky grin.

He bites back a groan before monotonously replying, “Abide by your orders, no matter what.”

She giggles shortly, “Aaaand what did I order you to do?”, her hands find a pale pink dress, not too fancy or plain. A perfect middle. Sunghoon sticks to his position in the doorway, not keeping an eye off of her and the surroundings, and sighs. He riffles a hand through his chestnut hair (another ‘order’ from the Princess, she thought it’d suit him,) and places his hand in his pant pockets, just above his sword.

“I’m not taking you to that party. Another one of my duties is to keep you safe, no matter what.” Her shoulders slump at his stern words. She makes her way to her bed with a pout and hangs the pretty dress over her hand. Y/n was in simple winter pyjamas, not at all like a princess.

But she could be dressed in a potato sack and she’d still look like a princess to him.

Sunghoon finally leaves his post and walks into her room to stand over her, looking down with the same look he gives to people at the parties he actually lets her attend.

“Those rules contradict each other.” She says.

“Doesn’t everything?” He replies.

Ever since he was assigned her bodyguard at 16, he knew he wouldn’t ever give up his position. Y/n was a natural royal. Kind, loyal, perfect etiquette and perfect look. But as the years went on, the pair discovered more about eachother. How he could be comfortable staying in a castle away from his family, how she could handle being watched 24/7 with barely any freedom. Their friendship blossomed. Sunghoon would protect her, and she would protect him. Mainly from her father, who was constantly asking her to fire him after a simple mistake.

She wasn’t just a princess to him, but his princess. His queendom. And it hurt every time he had to build the walls higher.

“Exactly. It’s a masquerade. Nobody will know each other. If anything, it’s the safest party I could possibly attend.”

Y/n pulls a lip by her pearly white teeth and looks up at Sunghoon with pleading eyes. Something she had perfected. But sadly, he was the one who watched her perfect it.

“I’m sorry, your highness.”

He unlocks his arms and almost reached out for her, before she stands, closing their distance in a split second. She smells like vanilla, and it’s the only thing he can think of. He can’t even comprehend her breath lining up with his neck.

“At least stay until I’m ready to sleep. I know it’s not protocol as the time spent until then is usually spent alone, but my parents and the other guards are not here.” She whispers, blinking slowly as she awaits his reply. He falters,

“I can’t, you know that.”

“You can’t do anything with me. Can you?”

“I cannot stay in your room other than to protect you.”

“If anything I am at my most vulnerable when unconscious.”

He sighs because he knows she’s aware of the immense amount of security that’s strategically placed around the castle grounds, just not at her doors.

“Would you feel more comfortable if I stood outside?” He proposed.

She wanted more. She wanted him to stay close, like they were now, but warm and dreaming under the covers. She wanted him to hold her as she fell into slumber, she wanted to help him pull through the nightmares she heard him complain about to other guards.

But he’s already stepped back, taking her silence as defeat. Sunghoon’s uniformed back is turned before she can say goodnight, but luckily he can sense her urge.

“Goodnight, Your Highness.” He looks back with expecting eyes, and goes to close the wooden door, before she stops him with a hand.

Her eyes flutter before walking to her nightstand. She grabs an unopened packet of lip balm encased in a tin barrel. It’s red and shiny, and she brings it to her body guard. “I need you to try this for me. To make sure it isn’t poisoned.”

He smiles tiredly for the first time that night, and nods. He secretly loathed the way this night was coming to an end. She passes it to him carefully, and he takes it with the same gentleness. His long fingers open the tin, and take a small piece of it.

Sunghoon looks up at her and swipes the balm slowly over his already peachy lips, watching her watch him with intent.

He smacks his lips once, quietly, before closing the lid and swiping his tongue onto his bottom lip, testing the taste. It’s strawberry, and as he slowly closes the distance between him and the princess, just like she did moments before, she’s sure she can smell it.

“What will you do if it’s poison?” He asks in a whisper, eyes faltering towards her own lips. She doesn’t need the product, he thinks.

“I’ll kiss it off.” She replies.

He gulps and his breaths start catching in the air. Her scent causes him to forget his duties completely. The moment is silent for a moment, before he lies,

“I think I’m feeling lightheaded, Your Highness.”

Sunghoon places his delicate hands on her waist, and she places her own on his shoulders. In a swift and smooth movement, he moved one hand behind her head and smoothes her hair. His now red lips hover over hers, and she can feel his minty breath playing with her own.

He stops.

“Your highness, this goes against protocol.”

She looks up at him only for a moment, shaking her head slightly.

“Sunghoon. I order you to kiss me.”

His smooth lips meet hers, and suddenly everything comes crashing down. All of the rules, protocols and regulations are broken, and in that moment neither of them care.

Sunghoon removes himself, an uncomfortable feeling of excitement and dread drag his shoulders down, and she can sense it just by his grip. He has ruined his own life by making it a thousand times better. He almost looks pitiful as he replays his decisions and envisions the consequences.

“Sunghoon,” she whispers, taking him out of the silent dilemma he was over thinking

“Your highness.”

“Kiss me again.” And when he doesn’t, “please.”

Their lips connect again, and Sunghoon moves them both forward to close the door behind him, his hands find their way to her waist again and they both sigh in contentment.

“Your highness, I…” he pauses scrunches his eyes together, blinking them open and looking at her with too much adoration and love that any of his words could explain. He attempted it though, “I… love you. And I won’t stop loving you until there’s a hole through the Earth and the Moon has passed through it.”

He stops for a gulp, watching her closely,

“Your highness.” It is outrageous. A guard confessing to a royal.

But in that tight and warm moment, they both feel as if they are equal in every way possible.

“Sunghoon, I know it’s against protocol but, I feel the same.”

## taglist — @i520sn @raevyng @enhacolor

masterlist | taglists

seungkwan - coffee shop

word count : 536

it’s seungkwan’s birthday ! whoop whoop ! can’t wait for the bss comeback, we desperately need it

-

"who the hell signed me up for a morning shift?" one of your coworkers, jihoon, asked as he walked behind the counter.

"did you draw the short straw or something?" you asked as you clocked in for your shift at the register.

"no, jeonghan just put me on. i'm gonna punch him when i see him tomorrow," jihoon replied and walked into the back of the store.

"at least you didn't close last night. i'm so tired," your manager, joshua, said as he set out fresh pitchers with different creamer and milk options on a countertop at the back of the store.

once the store opened, it was a busy morning at the coffee shop you worked out. it was completely normal for the store to get busy, but it was a bit too busy for your liking. a bunch of students from the nearby university were in the shop getting their daily dose of caffeine. you recognized the regulars along with one or two familiar faces from walking around campus.

while your coworkers worked behind the counter, you stepped out to clean some of the empty tables that had crumbs or empty cups on them. you walked to a table near the front door and cleaned it off along with the two chairs next to it. when you turned to another table, you accidentally bumped into someone. you heard a cup fall onto the ground and saw who you bumped into.

"oh come on, y/n. you're supposed to be better than that."

you rolled your eyes, "you can save the dramatics for your acting class. i'll make you another one, seungkwan," you said and continued cleaning the tables. "hey, jihoon! can you grab the mop for me?" you asked your coworker, who replied with a nod while grabbing a pastry from the display case.

as you pushed in a chair, you looked at seungkwan, who sat down at the table you had just cleaned. he crossed his legs while staring at you, waiting for his new coffee.

"what are you doing here? don't you have class right now?" you asked him since you usually saw him after the morning rush.

"class was cancelled. my professor is at a conference or something like that," he mentioned and picked up his bag from the floor. "did you start on your project for class yet?" he asked while taking his laptop out of his bag along with a folder. you two were in a child development class together and had a big project to work on.

"yea, but i didn't do much yet. i've never really heard of my topic before, so i don't really know where to start," you replied. "i don't think anyone knows much about their topics."

"we should work on it together. maybe we can help each other out," he suggested.

you nodded in agreement, "yea, sure."

"hey y/n! can you grab the a new thing of creamer?" joshua asked you from behind the counter.

"yea, i will!" you replied and looked at seungkwan. "see ya," you said to him.

"get me my coffee, woman."

you rolled your eyes again, "so grouchy."

why are they so cute

BOOSEOKSOON 'SECOND WIND' COUNTDOWN LIVE

on my knees.

main slayer

so cute

Do Not Fall in Love

pairing: roommate!bucky barnes x roommate!reader

word count: 7.8k

this is a commissioned fic for the lovely @bwhitewolfbarnes <3

warnings: strangers to roommates to lovers, fluff, pining, bucky being a horticulturist bc it’s cute, minor angst, bucky gets hurt and is hospitalized but nothing graphic is described other than the fact that he has cuts and bruises, happy ending

tip jar | masterlist

Sweat starts to bead on your forehead, some sneaking down your neck and causing uncomfortable dampness that results in unpleasant shivers every so often. Your arms are heavy, nearly weak at this point, and your thighs are screaming at you just to sit down, please, I’m so sore.

Soon, you think.

There are only a couple of boxes left, and, thankfully, you haven’t had to carry the heavier ones. You suppose that’s a perk of moving in with a man with super strength - you don’t have to over-exert yourself.

Your new roommate - a mister James Barnes - was nice enough to help out in the move, even driving to your old apartment to get the last of your things and lead you to his - no, you’re new apartment. It’s not the biggest place, but big enough for two people and not so crowded. The building itself is fairly new, and so far the landlord seems like she’d actually give a shit if something broke in the apartments.

You’ll truly never have any idea of how you managed to find such a nice place with a non-creepy, quiet albeit nice enough man - a handsome one at that.

But you don’t think about that last point. You’re only here so you can help watch over his place, you remind yourself, don’t get too attached.

Anyway, back to moving.

Once you step through the threshold, the central air conditioning immediately hits you in full force. This time, a pleasant shiver runs through your body, the cold is very welcome to the abnormal blistering heat outside.

“You can sit down, you know.” Suddenly, Bucky appears beside you, one of your heavier boxes tucked into his side by his left arm as though it’s no big deal. Which, granted, he is a super soldier, so you don’t doubt that it really isn’t a problem.

“Oh, it’s fine!” Your voice goes high, the shock of him suddenly appearing next to you wearing off once you turn and see his concerned yet amused look. “There are only two boxes left, I can handle it.”

He scoffs, gently setting down the box he’s holding before taking the one from your arms.

“You’re clearly tired, and I don’t need my new roommate passing out on me.” While his tone is playful, you can sense the underlying worry. So, instead of arguing, you give in to him - and your sore body - and make the short walk to the living room to fall onto the couch with a dramatic huff.

Behind you, you hear Bucky chuckling. And when you turn your gaze to him, he’s shaking his head softly. You try to fight your laugh, pressing your lips together. Then, Bucky turns back to the boxes and goes down the hall to your new room to make it easier for you to open and organize them.

And, truly, you’re coming to already like your new living situation. Yeah, you just met the guy so you’re not quite accustomed to how he lives, but it’s definitely already preferable to your old one. You’d been roommates for two years with one of your best friends before your lease was about to renew and she’d decided to move out at the last minute and there is no way you can afford an apartment in New York by yourself. That coupled with the fact that even though you’re friends, living together was a complete mess for almost those entire two years.

Bucky has been nothing but kind to you. From the moment you first came over to check out your potential new place to helping you out in the moving process, it’s been a pretty smooth transition. He is a little quiet, more reserved, but that doesn’t bother you. You understand that you don’t have to be best friends with your roommate as long as you’re cordial with them.

Plus, you’ve done your research, you know the basics of what he’s been through. So the fact that he’s even open to letting a stranger live with him must be a big thing for him, so you’re more than happy to stay out of his way when necessary - even if you do want to get to really know him.

But when Bucky comes back into the living room, he says “I’m going to get the last two boxes, I put the sheets on your bed already. Figured you’d wanna take a nap before taking everything out.” He says it almost timidly, like he’s not sure if he was allowed to even though all he genuinely wants to do is help - he’s been trying to be more open and nicer given his past, maybe it’s part of his retribution to society.

But you give him a small, grateful smile, and he then disappears out of the living room and then the house as he goes to your car to get the last two boxes from your trunk.

Yeah, you don’t have to be friends with your roommate, but something in you tells you that you will be.

____________

You’re drifting in the space between being awake while also asleep. You’re conscious enough to know that you should probably get out of bed but tired enough for your brain to try and convince you to go back to sleep. Something else makes that decision for you. Your arm is shaken gently, and a deep voice in a soft manner calls to you as you catch bits and pieces of the words being spoken.

Dinner. Shower. Unpack.

That’s when your brain catches up with the situation, and finally, you open your eyes. At first, things are fuzzy, but you rub your eyes and let out a soft yawn and that helps your body wake up as well.

“What time is it?”

Bucky chuckles and looks down at his watch. “Almost four.”

Your body sits up almost immediately, eyes wide and your mind running frantically with trying to figure out why Bucky didn’t wake you up. You fell asleep at ten this morning, shit, it’s going to take forever to unpack.

Bucky, sensing your concern, shakes his head. “You were tired, you said you packed up your things and helped your friend move for almost all last week and you worked hard this morning, I figured you needed the sleep. But, it’s okay. I found some of your boxes marked as your clothes and put them in the closet. The others are in the corner.”

Again, he sounds nervous, once again worried that he might have overstepped. He hopes he hasn’t, but he’s ready to apologize nonetheless.

Jesus fucking Christ. Why does he have to be so nice? You internally huff in confusion. You just met him, does he… want anything in return? Then you mentally slap yourself, some people are just nice, stop questioning why.

So, smiling, you say “oh, thanks, James. That’s really thoughtful.”

His eyebrow twitches, not used to people using his first name considering he doesn’t really like it, he doesn’t connect with it anymore. Normally, he’d be a little brash about telling people, ‘it’s Bucky’. But, for reasons unknown, he doesn’t correct you.

Bucky then smiles again - not a full, bright smile, it’s more of an uptick of the corner of his mouth - relieved that you’re not weirded out. Now, why he is so concerned with you being comfortable around him is written off in his head about listening to his therapist and trying to make more friends - which, yeah. He could definitely use some of those, and his tall and broad stature tends to scare people away. But, that’s all it is, he’s sure.

He nods his head then, stepping away from the bed so you can crawl out from under the sheets and stand.

“I’m gonna order pizza, is that okay?”

At the mention of food, your stomach interrupts with a rumble, making both of you chuckle.

“Yeah, pepperoni?”

Bucky nods and steps further towards the door while you go to your closet to pull out a fresh pair of clothes so you can take a shower.

“I’m going to shower, I’ll be out in a bit.”

Once again, he nods, then disappears out of your door and closes it behind you.

____________

After your much-needed shower, you tread down the hall to the living room and look to your left towards the kitchen and see Bucky sitting at the table, three pizza boxes resting in the middle. Again, your stomach rumbles, alerting Bucky of your presence.

Upon reaching the table and sitting down, Bucky grabs the box with the pepperoni pizza and slides it to you, leaving the other boxes - one of which is already half gone - in the middle of the table still.

“I, uh. I eat a lot so I got three so you can have one to yourself.”

A small smile makes its way onto your face as you grab one of the plates next to the boxes and pile it with pizza, though you leave enough to be used for lunch tomorrow. “Thanks, James.”

He hums, letting you know he heard you. When you look up at him, you can see a small amount of red coloring his face, hidden mostly by his beard that he has yet to properly shave.

Huh.

A small part of your brain tells you he probably likes being appreciated - maybe even praised. And when you think back on all he’s done and do a quick mental run through all of the horrible news articles that have been spread around the world, you start to think that maybe he’s not used to it.

I should start doing it more.

You’re both quiet as you eat, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. That is, until, you clear your throat. “Um, do you have anything to drink?”

Bucky’s head pops up, swallows a mouthful of pizza, and points behind him. “The fridge has orange juice and some sodas, and the cabinet next to it are the cups.”

You send him a smile as you stand from your seat, then go to the fridge.

“I, uh -” Bucky coughs to clear his throat. “I did want to talk about… rules, I guess.” Internally, he winces at how awkward that sounds.

“Oh,” You come back around to sit back in your chair. “That makes sense. What are you thinking of?”

He glances down at his pizza, then reminds himself that eye contact is important in the friend-making department. So, he holds your gaze as he lists off his rules.

One. While it is your new apartment, it is still also his, despite the fact that he’s away on missions occasionally. So, cleaning up after yourselves is important. Keep things tidy. Nothing just laying around if it doesn’t need to be. Things like that.

Two. Because he’ll be away on missions, he won’t have time to get groceries. You’d been designated with the task, however, Bucky was kind enough to tell you he’d leave money for whenever you did need to. When it came to both being home, you would switch on doing the cooking, though the way he spoke about it made you believe he doesn’t really know how to.

Three. When Bucky is away, he’ll always text or call you to let you know when he’s coming back. That was more so your suggestion, you wouldn’t want to be caught off-guard if he came home and you thought someone was breaking in.

Four. No parties. Three friends max are allowed when Bucky isn’t there because he really, really doesn’t need any more noise complaints. Which works out fine with you, you don’t have too many friends and you’re typically either too busy working or sleeping to have any so-called parties.

Once the rules have been set down and agreed upon the food is almost completely gone, which prompts the both of you to start clearing the table.

“Thank you for the pizza, James,” You smile at him, not missing the twitch in his brow and the clench of his jaw. Luckily he has his head turned enough so you can’t see how flushed his face is getting, well, you can’t see most of his face.

“Um. No -” Bucky pauses to clear his throat nervously, “it’s no problem.”

You hum, placing the rest of the food in the fridge while Bucky works on the dishes.

“So, I know it’s still a little early, but I think I’m going to turn in for the night.” You catch Bucky’s eyes as he glances up at you, smiling at him again. “Thanks, again. For everything, you’ve been really helpful.”

Bucky ducks his head down, face growing more and more flushed as his body grows warm with the gratefulness that he’s never - not that he can even remember - received, yet deep down has always craved.

He nods his head, mumbling a “goodnight,” and then listens to you wander down the hallway to your room.

____________

The first mission he goes on is only two weeks later. In that time, he’s shown you his spare room - filled with different plants and flowers and a very elaborate cat tree housing a very sleepy cat. He’s verbally told you how he takes care of them, but given that it’s a lot of work he was nice enough to write everything down.

It seemed like he was hesitant at first to show you, after all, horticulture isn’t exactly a hobby most would assume an unofficial avenger would have. Somehow, though, it fits him. His timidity, you’ve concluded, stems mainly from his arm.

Bucky seems scared - terrified, really - of hurting anyone or anything with it. Sure, he doesn’t have too much of a problem showing it off around the house, but you’ve come to notice he doesn’t hold much with the metal hand. 

But seeing him working with the flowers makes you believe that maybe he’s trying, with all his might, to teach himself that he can be gentle. And from how he plays with Alpine - his precious cat - you know he’s far more gentle than he gives himself credit for.

But he’s been gone for almost a week now, and you can, thankfully, say that you haven’t killed any of his plants. You’ve actually seemed to make friends with Alpine, much to Bucky’s frustration. The cat - in Bucky’s own words - is much like him, reserved and more content in her own space. Apparently, you now qualify as ‘her space’.

It’s eight in the evening when you get a text from Bucky telling you the mission was successful and that he’d be home by eleven that night.

And, assuming he’ll be too tired and drained to even eat, let alone cook, you make a split-second decision to cook for him as a ‘thank you for letting me stay here at a very reasonable price’.

Running over the decisions in your head, and pulling ideas from what he’s told you his favorite foods are, you decide on hamburgers. Easy enough and just greasy enough to fill his stomach after what you assume to be days of not eating much. 

It’s ten-fifty by the time Bucky comes walking through the door with a huff. He closes it as quietly as he can, then comes tip-toeing down the hall before reaching the kitchen.

“What are you doing?”

Bucky’s voice catches you off guard. And you’re about to ask how he was able to be so quiet while being so - for lack of a better word - huge. But then you remember that being a super-soldier as well as a very well-trained assassin probably helps. So instead of questioning him, you smile.

“I figured you’d be too tired to cook so I made food!” Your smile widens as Bucky offers you a small one of his own.

He pauses, seemingly thinking something over, before nodding. 

“Thanks, that’s really sweet of you, doll.”

Both of you freeze, moreso Bucky, his eyes widening and his throat bobbing as he swallows nervously. But before he can panic too badly, you put him out of his misery because, to be honest, it feels… good. You like it.

“It was no trouble, James.” You finish plating the food for him, move to set it on the kitchen table, and then go back to start clearing up the mess.

“You don’t need to do that,” Bucky says softly, sitting at the table and staring at you with an unreadable look in his eyes. “I can do it when I finish eating.”

You sigh wistfully, shaking your head as you smile, more to yourself than anything.

“I do need to. I made the mess.” Then, turning to look at him, you shoot him a wink. “Plus, no offense but you look like death. I’d rather you eat, shower, and go to bed than spend extra time doing something I am capable of handling.”

This pulls a laugh out of him, not quite loud and hearty, but enough to show he appreciates your efforts.

“Alright then, clean as much as you want,” He chuckles again, then returns to his burger, piled with every topping you know he likes.

Nodding resolutely, you resume cleaning. Both of you work in comfortable silence, the only noise being the soft clanking of the dishes in the sink as you hand-wash them. Bucky’s given up on telling you that there’s a dishwasher for a reason, because why would you use it for only a few dishes? Come on, James, think smart.

Once the dishes have been put away, you make your way to the hallway leading to your room, not before sparing one last glance at Bucky.

He’s also looking at you, though, with another unreadable expression.

“Goodnight, James,” You say, barely above a whisper. And despite your best efforts to not let it get to you, you can’t help but feel giddy when he murmurs “goodnight, doll.”

____________

It’s another two months until Bucky has to go on an extended mission. And in that time you’ve grown closer to him. It’s been a tad bit tough cracking his shell, but so far he’s been nothing but kind to you when you ask menial questions about his job or his hobbies, giving you as much information as he wants before you sense his uncomfortableness with the conversation and promptly stop.

But he’s warmed up to you rather quickly, something you find comforting in a way it probably shouldn’t. He’s also a good listener, and - quite surprisingly - really good at cracking jokes. He doesn’t complain when he wanders out of his room and ends up stuck listening to you rant about your day.

At first, it seemed like he was ignoring you like you were just talking to yourself. But you quickly realized that he is listening, while he may not be looking directly at you the entire time you speak, you notice he hums every once in a while to let you know he’s still there, even chuckling when you told him about how you walked into the kitchen island and bruised your hip. You quickly defended yourself, though, insisting that Bucky must have moved it because you are not clumsy, thank you very much.

He does still spend a lot of time in his room, though, or in the spare. Multiple times you’ve caught him watering his plants, mumbling softly to them while he tries to shoo a very interested Alpine away from eating the leaves.

Upon later research, you learn that some people think that speaking kindly to plants helps them grow. Now, you’re not too sure about that, but watching a six-foot-something man murmuring lovingly at some carnations is both humorous and adorable.

And despite your best conscious effort to not fall for the man you’re technically only a roommate with - the term ‘friends’ flashes in your mind every once in a while though - you just can’t help it. 

He’s nice, one of the nicest men you’ve ever met in fact. He’s funny, even telling you stories of when he was in the war and how he was almost genuinely considering stripping for a pack of cigarettes.

It seems like he’s had an easier time talking to you than you’d expected, but maybe your assumptions about him had been wrong - the stoic, closed-off man that the media portrayed him to be had all been lies, of course. Because despite him not speaking too much, he’s been a joy to be around when you do cross paths.

But when he comes home from his extended mission you get a notification that he’ll be coming home in about three hours - but it’s from a number you don’t recognize. And whoever was on the other end had talked about Bucky in the third person, and something akin to uneasiness settled deep in your stomach because why wouldn’t he text you himself? Is he okay?

The message had been short and there was no response when you’d texted back to ask if he was okay. You spent those three hours idly cleaning despite there not being much of a mess, it was mainly to keep yourself busy while you waited for Bucky to return.

And when he does return, you realize why he hadn’t been able to be the one to text you. His flesh hand is bandaged, though you can see a little blood seeping through. His face has a cut all along the cheekbone, and he’s limping ever so slightly.

Immediately your brain switches into mother-hen mode. Without even thinking you run to the bathroom and grab the first aid kit, before running back to Bucky, who’s leaning against the kitchen island. His metal hand is pressed against his side, eyebrows furrowed in pain, and breathing steadily so as to, presumably, calm himself enough to let his body heal itself naturally.

You don’t consider the fact that his super-soldier serum is going to heal all of his wounds by tomorrow, you’re more concerned with how he is now.

“Come here,” You say, in a sharper tone than you intended. Immediately, and without thinking, you grab his metal hand to pull him to the couch, something you’ve never done. It hasn’t really crossed your mind but Bucky has been very careful with not touching you with his metal arm - though he doesn’t really touch you at all unless it’s to steady you when he passes by and gets a little too close to knocking you down with his big frame.

As gently as possible, you push him to sit down on the couch, eyes frantically searching for the worst injuries so you can tend to those first.

“It’s fine,” Bucky chokes out, almost in a daze. “The doctor at the tower fixed me up, it’s just going to take some time for it to heal fully.”

You don’t really hear him though, because the blood seeping through the bandages on his hand is becoming more prominent, and you immediately drop to your knees and pull the kit to your side. You, very carefully, take hold of his hand and pull it towards you, already starting to unwrap the gauze.

“I don’t know how to stitch, but I know we have butterfly bandages and creams and antiseptic, it should be able to help. And I can re-wrap it, oh! I’ll have to grab the cotton pads and a damp cloth, just wait here!”

You can’t help the words from pouring out of your mouth. But, to your credit, you’ve never seen anyone in this bad of a shape. And your natural anxiety mixed with the man you’re definitely not crushing hard on being the one hurt spikes a small amount of fear deep within you.

“Doll,” He says, both exhausted and in pain. “I swear, I’m going to be fine.”

Finally, you look up at his face, staring into his eyes and searching for any amount of untruthfulness but only finding desperation. Sighing, you loosen your grip on Bucky’s hand but don’t let go of it completely. You’re cradling it between your own and looking at him with concerned eyes.

After a moment of silence, you place your right hand on Bucky’s metal one and squeeze softly. You know that he can’t technically feel it, but he seems to understand the gesture when he offers you a small smile.

“Will you at least let me check your hand?” You ask in a soft voice, merely above a whisper. “For my own sake?”

Bucky thinks it over in his head, though it doesn’t take long for him to nod. Your eyes and puppy dog pout pull him in, especially when you add “please, James.”

“Okay,” He, again, speaks softly, holding your gaze with an unreadable expression that you’re trying very hard not to try and decipher.

With a nod and a small smile, you remove your hands from his own and pull out the first aid kit, all the while Bucky has his eyes trained on you.

____________

Another two months go by and you can honestly say that Bucky is your friend, and more importantly, he considers you his friend too. Around a week ago you heard him on the phone telling the person on the other end that he had plans that night with ‘his roommate.’

A moment later he says ‘yea, she’s really nice… yeah I-I guess we’re friends… Yes, Sam, I have friends… no I did not pay her to live with me… Sam, I ju - yes, okay. Yes, she’s pre - I really don’t see how that factors into any… listen I have to go’ and promptly hangs up.

At the time you couldn’t help but feel… giddy? You didn’t know which emotion was running through your body, but you’re sure it was positive. Though there was one immediate thought that popped into your head.

‘Yes, she’s pre-‘. What was the rest of that sentence going to be?

Logically, you know what the rest was going to be, but you’re trying your hardest to not get your hopes up. He could just be saying that you’re ‘pretty cool’ or something along those lines, but part of you wishes it wasn’t.

And, to be fair, you’ve done a great job so far at convincing yourself that you definitely do not have a crush on your roommate. Because if you did then that would surely cause problems. One is that you’d have to move out. Truthfully, if you let yourself accept that your feelings for Bucky run deeper than friendship you’re not too sure if you could stand being around him knowing that he doesn’t feel the same way.

Of course, maybe he does. But you’re pretty confident that he’s not looking to date anyone. He hasn’t mentioned that he’s dating anyone currently, and he’s even told you that he hasn't dated anyone since he got out of Hydra’s hold.

How could you suddenly change that?

For the rest of the day, you’d been in a weird headspace. Really, it’s been a whole week of overthinking.

He thinks I’m pretty.

Stop that, he could have been complimenting my personality or something.

No, but he definitely thinks I’m pretty. He blushes any time I smile at him! He calls me ‘doll’!

I’m reading too much into this. Calm. Down.

And, unfortunately for you, Bucky has picked up on your mood shift. Ever since he started hanging out with you more he’s been able to pick up on a few of your tells. Plus, he’s a trained ex-assassin, of course he’d be able to notice.

Thankfully Bucky hasn’t commented on it though, seemingly waiting for you to bring it up. But you don’t. And you’re determined to never speak of the growing realization that maybe being around Bucky so much, being able to get to know who he really is, has deepened your feelings for him far more than you are willing to tell anyone.

You’ve been pushing through it though, spending nights fighting with yourself over if you should just admit your feelings or suppress them to the point where you can pretend they don’t exist like how you used to be able. You still spend time with him, forcing him to watch classic movies he’s never heard of in exchange for watching old black-and-white movies that make him laugh yet leave you confused.

And throughout these past months, you can’t help but feel happy and proud that you’ve managed to get Bucky to trust you, to laugh with and at you, to smile. And even if it’s sometimes awkward, it’s still frustratingly endearing.

It seems to get worse on one Monday at three in the morning when Bucky walks into the kitchen, bag slung over his shoulder and geared up in mission attire.

“Hey, doll. I-“ He cuts himself off, coughing slightly as though he’s shocked. 

Turning from your spot near the fridge you see him staring at you, wide eyed and a flush covering his body. For a moment you wonder why he’s frozen, why he’s suddenly stopped talking and looks like a deer in headlights.

That’s when you look down and realize you’re wearing a big t-shirt, underwear, and no pants.

Fuck. 

The shirt is, thankfully, big enough to rest a little below your mid-thigh. Yet it still doesn’t stop the onset of humility and embarrassment. A wave of warmth covers your body, suddenly becoming almost unbearably hot with how nervous you’ve just become.

“Uh, I was.. I was just getting some juice and I didn’t think you’d be up,” Your voice is surprisingly even given the nerves wracking your body, even more so when you catch Bucky staring at your legs with… longing?

For a small moment, no one speaks. The only sound that can be heard is your breathing and Bucky coughing to clear his throat.

“N-no it’s - it’s fine. I mean, you live here too I guess so…”

“Still, I’m, uh, sorry I guess.” Internally, you cringe. What exactly are you apologizing for? You’re not too sure. But amidst the voices in your head all screaming at you to run, go back to your room, no, stay here, let Bucky look at you like you’re a treasure to be held.

Wait. Huh? That look in Bucky’s eyes couldn’t possibly be that, no. You’re imagining things. But, amidst your internal panic you almost miss what he says next.

“No, it’s fine.” He pauses, tongue poking out to wet his bottom lip for a split second before holding your gaze. “I promise.”

Again, silence, awkward and tense. And you attempt to break it with “so, how long will you be gone?”

Bucky forces a smile, and you know he hates going on missions. While he does enjoy saving the world and repenting for his sins, you can see the toll it’s taking on him. It doesn’t help that when he comes back he’s usually a little battered and unwilling to speak more than a few sentences.

You don’t blame him, though. You couldn’t even imagine what he goes through so you’re content to stay on the sidelines, helping when you can.

“About two weeks.”

And something inside you hurts, knowing the Bucky will be gone for two whole weeks makes you uneasy, mainly because you don’t know what’s going to happen to him - as though you ever do. All you can do whenever he’s gone is hope that he’ll come back, bruised and battered is far better than not coming back at all.

You care for him as a friend - much more than a friend albeit - but a friend nonetheless. No one, especially a man who’s been through as much as he has, deserves the weight he carries.

“Oh, I hope it goes well. I don’t need you dying on me, James.” Your poor attempt at a joke actually succeeds as Bucky chuckles.

“Thanks, doll. I’ll try my best.”

Then, after holding his gaze for another moment, you turn back to the fridge. You lean in to get the orange juice you’d made yesterday, and choked off gasp sounds through the air. Only too late do you realize that your shirt had ridden up slightly and probably, definitely gave him a small view of your ass.

Quickly standing up straight you go for the cabinets to get a glass, flat out refusing to look at Bucky out of mortification. Why do you have to make things so awkward?

“Well, I'm, uh. I’m gonna go, I’ll update you when I can.”

With that, he rushes out the door. And when you sneak a glance to your right you see Bucky now holding his bag to where it’s pressed to his front.

And you’re left with a flush covering your entire body and a mind full of confusion.

____________

The first week Bucky is away is uneventful. You spend your days either at work or at home taking care of Bucky’s plants and Alpine. You’ve started taking after Bucky in the sense that you whisper lovingly to his plants. You’re not entirely convinced that this actually works, but you’ll be damned if you let any of them die.

You spend more time in your room than usual, finding it too boring to be out in the living room with a large space yet nothing in particular to do. You still make sure to keep your door open so that Alpine can come and go as she pleases - though she ends up staying, most times curled up at the end of your bed cuddled into one of your blankets she’s now deemed hers.

Bucky manages to text you one time from a burner phone that week. A short “everything’s good, Sam’s an ass but that’s typical. Going to try and get back earlier but I don’t know if Steve understands what ‘in and out’ means. Stay safe, doll.”

That last bit made you laugh. The fact that he is telling you to be safe is funnier than it should be. But then again, you’ve come to know that Bucky is a little - a lot - old-fashioned. So making sure you’re okay is probably just one of his Things.

The second week is a little more stressful. Work is piling up and you’re starting to have a perpetual headache, starting from the moment you get into work until the time you’re able to leave.

There’s also been your coworker, Aaron, who’s ‘conveniently’ always where you are, ready to give you backhanded compliments as his weird version of flirting. His smile hides something dark, like he has ulterior motives other than trying to sleep with you. It’s unnerving, to say the least.

Bucky also hasn’t texted or called you since the previous week's update. It’s already Friday and while you know you shouldn’t worry too much - after all, crime-fighting doesn’t have a set schedule - you can’t help but have some sort of uneasiness.

But you brush it off as a product of your stress from the week. You’ll give it another few days. But even then, who would you be able to call if he doesn’t return? What are you supposed to do if he doesn’t?

Friday turns to Saturday, then Sunday, and then it’s Monday again, two weeks from the day that Bucky left, and you can’t help but let your worry rise. And, yeah, you two didn’t specifically agree on texting often, but based on his previous missions you’d assumed he’d be in contact with you more often.

Somehow, Thursday comes around in the blink of an eye. Granted, you’ve buried your head in work to try and finish the foot-high stack of files that your coworkers seem to only add to, trusting you to finish their work.

It’s on this Thursday, about two and a half weeks after Bucky left, that you get a call when you’re in the break room during your lunch. It’s from an unknown number, so you’re flooded with relief knowing that it’s Bucky.

Except, no. It’s not. As soon as you answer, you’re barely able to get out ‘hello’ before a voice whom you’ve come to recognize as Steve starts whispering.

“I’m sorry, I know you’re at work. But, Buck’s been hurt pretty bad. We’re flying him to our Compound so the doctors can patch him up, but…” He trails off, almost uncertain as to whether he should finish the sentence.

“But what? What happened?” You’re almost frantic with worry, wondering how bad Bucky’s been hurt, wondering if his injuries were the reason he didn’t make contact last week, praying that Steve isn’t about to give you even worse news.

“It doesn’t look too good. I can’t say much, but I know how much he cares about you. I think it’d be best if you could be here for him. I know he’d appreciate it.”

Time freezes.

How much he cares about you?

And then his first words finally register.

It doesn’t look too good.

Fuck.

Without even thinking you rush to place your phone between your shoulder and ear so you can use both of your hands to clear up your food.

“O-Of course, yeah.” You’re already in the process of heading towards your office when Steve speaks up again.

“Thanks, I’ll send you the address.”

He hangs up, and then you run into your office, packing up your essentials while somehow managing to text your boss that you’re suddenly sick, that you won’t be at work tomorrow either - you’re trying to be optimistic and assume that Bucky will pull through, therefore taking time off of work to be with him seems logical.

It’s on the drive over to the compound that you think of the past several months you’ve spent with Bucky. Not only has living with him been smoother than you could’ve ever imagined, but getting closer to him, becoming his friend, has easily made its way to your top ten list of things that bring you happiness.

And that’s when you come to the conclusion that, yes, you do love him. Immensely so. And now, knowing that he might not make it, makes you want to cry, to scream. At this point you don’t care about making things awkward between you two - although, signs seem to point towards him reciprocating at least some of your feelings.

God you hope he does. Because if he does live, you’ll tell him. You’ll admit it to him, to anyone who asks, because losing him like this would be far worse than just losing him as a friend. 

It takes thirty minutes to get to the compound, an extra ten to convince the security that you’re here for Bucky, that you’re not some obsessed fan or a secret assassin. Only when Steve comes into the main lobby does the guard let you go with Steve.

“He’s in surgery right now.” Is what Steve says, voice a little shaky despite him trying his best to stay calm. 

“Okay,” you murmur, following Steve through hallways, up elevators, down more hallways, before finally finding the medical wing.

People step aside as the two of you walk to where the rest of the team are waiting very impatiently outside the operating room's door. You get a few small smiles, but other than a simple few “hi”’s everyone stays tensely silent.

It takes several hours - five, to be exact - for the doctor, whose badge reads Helen Cho, to come out with a hopeful look on her face.

“We’ve stabilized him.”

At this, everyone visibly relaxes, sighs of relief echoing through the hallway.

“He’s in recovery right now, and then he’ll be moved to a regular room. He’s in and out of sleep, but one person at a time can go in and visit him.”

Suddenly, everyone’s eyes are shifting back and forth from you and Steve. Steve’s eyes, however, are focused on you. He nods towards Helen, silently giving you permission to be the first person to see him.

“Are you sure?”

Steve smiles and nods. “Yeah, he’d much rather see you than me, I’ve been busting his ass too hard the last few weeks.”

You give him an awkward smile, glancing around at everyone and trying to ignore their knowing looks.

So you stand and follow Helen down another hallway, stopping outside of a door reading James B. Barnes. 

For a moment you stay planted to the floor, unable to get the horrible images you’ve imagined Bucky to be in out of your mind. But Helen opens the door and gives your arm a comforting squeeze before leaving.

So, taking a deep breath, you step into the room, your eyes filling with tears at the sight in front of you.

Bucky’s right arm is bruised with cuts deep enough that even his serum won’t be able to heal overnight. He has a black eye, a busted lip, and another scar running across his cheekbone. He looks paler too, but blood loss can do that to you.

All in all, he looks worse for wear. But his condition right now is definitely preferable to him being dead.

“Hhngg.”

At the sound of a soft, but hearty groan, you rush to Bucky’s bedside, immediately grabbing his metal hand without thought.

“James?” Your voice is low and soft, very careful to not be too loud and cause his head to hurt even more than you’re sure it already does.

“Doll?” His eyes blink slowly, squinting when he finally registers the bright light bearing down on him. “Can you turn down the sun?”

Despite the situation you can’t help but laugh. The sedatives must really be strong if it has a super soldier loopy and almost delirious.

“It’s not the sun, James,” You chuckle, squeezing his hand though you’re aware he can’t feel it. “It’s just a lightbulb.”

“Oh,” Bucky sounds confused, eyes squinting again before turning to you fully. His eyes widen, lips curling into as much of a smile as he can muster through the pain and medicines.”You’re here!”

Nodding, you give him a smile of your own. “Yeah, well I told you not to die and yet you almost did. I had to come and give you shit for it.” And despite your light-hearted nature, you can’t help that your voice quivers on ‘die’.

Bucky’s smile doesn’t falter, but he does attempt to reach for you with his bad arm, which results in you quickly leaning over him so you can place his arm back down.

“Don’t move too much, James. I don’t want you hurting yourself anymore than you already are.”

Bucky now frowns, making a confused sound and pausing for a moment before his face lights up like he’s been enlightened. “Then just get up here with me! C’mon, I need cuddles to help.”

Now it’s your turn to be confused, and you start shaking your head - mainly because you don’t want to hurt him further, but also because you’re not too sure that you can keep your cool if you were to be pressed up against him.

But Bucky’s pout is too adorable and yet heartbreaking to resist.

“Pleassssee.”

Sighing, you concede.

“Scoot over then,” At your words, his smile returns, and he does a shimmy to scoot over on the bed that’s too cute for the situation.

After about a solid minute of manouvering you’re finally able to climb onto the bed and lay next to Bucky. Which was a mistake on your part. Bucky huffs and does his best to pull you on top of the good side of his body, which you go willingly, unable to resist the hold he has over you.

“Mmmm, yay,” His voice gives away that he’s still not fully mentally here, but something in you knows that he’s aware enough to know the situation you’re in.

Silence envelops the both of you, and you’re suddenly overcome with a wave of relief. Finally being able to touch him the way you’ve wanted coupled with the fact that you’re now able to realize that Bucky is alive and he’ll be okay just does something to start off the waterworks. And you’re now unable to stop the tears that have been built up ever since you got the call.

It turns into full on sobbing into his chest, your fingers clutching his hospital gown as though he’ll disappear any minute. The absolute horror you felt, the dread, the anxiety of knowing that Bucky might have died finally hits you. And you’re unable to stop, meaning you’re unable to hear Bucky calling for you, concerned and confused. Your body shakes, whether by the tears or his hand trying to shake you out of your sadness is unclear.

But then Bucky decides a good way to get you to stop crying is by lifting his shoulder so your head turns upward, using his bandaged hand as best as he can to steady your head as he kisses you.

He kisses you.

Bucky is kissing you. What the fuck?

For a moment you’re too stunned to do anything but succumb to his will, letting him kiss you with a gentleness you’re not surprised by. Though his tough exterior scares many, you are one of the few lucky enough to know that he’s a softie, that he can be gentle when he wants to be.

But a few moments later you snap out of your trance, pulling back as much as Bucky will allow to look at him with confused eyes.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

Bucky shrugs, giving you his best puppy-dog eyes. “I don’t know. You were crying and I don’t like it when you cry so I thought that would work. Plus, I’ve always wanted to kiss you.” He says this like it’s the most normal thing in the world. And you’re desperately trying to convince yourself that this is just a product of his medicine - something that hurts you dearly - but you know your James, he wouldn’t do something he doesn’t want.

“You want to kiss me?”

“Of course. You’re so pretty and kind and funny and, god you’re so amazing. You treat me like I’m just a normal person, you tease me and laugh at my dumb jokes that I know you don’t really find that funny. And I just..”

He gets cut off abruptly by your lips pressing against his, swallowing his shocked gasp. And you continue to kiss him for another minute - minutes? hours? who knows - before pulling back minutely.

“James?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, doll?” Through the anaesthetics he sounds frustratingly smug, and you decide to let him. You can’t deny that your own ego has swelled at knowing that this man, not a perfect one, but perfect for you, wants you, wants to kiss and hold you.

“I really like you.”

You feel him smile against your lips, he gives you another chaste kiss and then pulls away just enough to get a good look at you.

“I really like you too.”

Another moment of silence, both of you basking in the unusual turn of events that lead to finally having Bucky like apparently both of you have wanted.

“I swear to god, though. If you ever scare me like this again, I’ll kill you myself.”

Oh, Baby!

Pairings: seungkwan x reader

Genre: slight angst (if you'd squint), fluff

Hi! Similar to my previous works, this is not yet proofread and was written poorly (I know). I was planning to post this on SK's birthday but I got distracted. Anyway, I hope you'll like this and please let me know how I can improve my writings. Thank you! :)

Ps. I was listening to this song and got inspired to write this fic hehe. You might want to give it a listen ^^

Pps. Belated happy birthday to our bootamin! Let's give them more love this year <3

Seungkwan is adamant. He knows what he wants and will dilligently work to earn his goals. He's never hasty with decisions and often check on the pros and cons repeatedly before acting on it. True to his friends' words, he is indeed one resolute man.

But even the strongest have weaknesses. Batman has a kryptonite— and so is he, who's now unsure whether he did the right thing for his heart's sake, for his sake.

For a moment he wished that there is a time machine to undo his hasty decisions brought by the emotions he tries so hard to keep in. But no such thing could erase his messages and a promise of song he would lovingly sing, wishing you'd hold onto the words like how you got him wrapped around your fingers.

"You're out of it again, Seungkwan. Are you drunk?" the sound of your voice brought him back to reality, following your chuckles as you tell him how long he was staring blankly at you.

"Shut up. I wasn't even able to drink with the members tonight" he retorted as he passed you a can of beer. "I pity them, though. I'm having one right now"

"I don't think one can of beer can get you drunk. If that was your plan for inviting me tonight, you failed Boo Seungkwan" you rolled your eyes at him and munched on the snacks you bought on the way to the hill.

"I wasn't planning on getting drunk. I told you we'll be stargazing" with  dismissive hand gesture, the apple of his eyes replied, "It's the first time you weren't thinking thoroughly. There are no stars. Can't you see?" For the nth time, you rolled your eyes at him and quickly changed your position. He gave you a glance as you sat beside him and rested your head on his shoulders, continuing to munch on your snacks.

For a second, he looked at the sky and saw nothing but dark clouds. But was it really the first time he didn't think through things? There are more times than that, if he would remember corre tly. Like how he skipped practice to make sure you'll get home safe or how he bailed on his trip, planned months before, with Seokmin the last minute so he can accompany you to your family dinner — but he will never tell you that. At least, not now.

He huffed. "I guess we'll be SKYgazing then." He took a sip of his own beer and let his eyes wander around. The surroundings felt like home and kind of gave him light albeit dark. This is how he pictured his future, long ago. Peace. Silence. With you.

It doesn't matter if you'll end up with someone else. He promised himself that he'd be the best friend you can always count on. He'd stay with you through thick and thin, be the best uncle your future children could ever ask for, and give you all the support you need even if he's just on the sidelines.

But, as long as no dude has the guts to take you away from him, he'd wait for a miracle— for you to magically see him from a different light and realize how your best friend is smitten and is actually head over heels in love with you. If only... if only you could see.

To fulfill his promise earlier, he started singing lines from their song imperfect love, knowing how much you loved it because it gives you feelings you can't explain.

Seungkwan didn't realize that you linked your arms with his the entire time, not until your grip tightened as the song came to an end. He wouldn't dare look at you for he knows he might kiss you right then and there because of how giddy he feels inside. "used to this.."

"What did you say?" you let go of his arms only to turn and face him. "I said, I can get used to this." You started. "You know... it's just me and you, us. Amidst the chaotic world we live in, I can only ever find peace if I'm with you. I don't mind living my life if every single day would be spent with you, Seungkwan."

The man was loss for words. His brain went haywired. Was he dreaming? Was that a confession of sort? He wished somebody would pinch him.

"I... wow. I don't know what to say" he wished he just kept his mouth closed after seeing a look of disappointment crossed over your face. If he felt bad after saying those words, he now feels worse after you gave a weak smile in return followed by you, telling him to ignore what happened. "Just forget I said a single thing" you added.

"Wait. What? No, no!" He panicked, not knowing what to do with his hands but ended up reaching over to grab yours. "Was that a confession? Do you like me more than a best friend should?" He questioned.

You gave him a confused look but anwered his questions nonetheless. "Well, yes... and yes" before you could utter another word, you were enveloped in a tight, warm hug. Him whispering how much he prayed to be in the same exact moment you are now and eventually confessing the feelings he tried to surpress.

He checked the time, 11:58, without letting you go, he muttered "I'm too shy to see your face while I tell you this... but since it is still my birthday, would you do the honor to fulfill one of my wishes, and be mine?"

On the same spot at midnight, his wish came true, sealed with a tighter hug and a sweet kiss not in haste.