#Processed Food Demand

[chemicalmarketwatch-sp]

Emulsifier Market: Trends, Drivers, Challenges, and Future Outlook

The emulsifier market plays a pivotal role in various industries, including food and beverages, pharmaceuticals, cosmetics, and personal care. Emulsifiers are ingredients that help stabilize and maintain the uniformity of products by enabling the blending of water and oil-based ingredients. With their diverse applications, emulsifiers are essential in ensuring product consistency, texture, and performance.

The global emulsifiers market was valued at USD 9.1 billion in 2022 and is projected to reach USD 13.1 billion by 2027, growing at a cagr 7.6% from 2022 to 2027.

Advantages of Emulsifiers

Improved Product Stability: Emulsifiers ensure that products remain stable over time by preventing the separation of oil and water-based ingredients. This property is particularly crucial in products such as sauces, creams, and lotions, where uniformity is key to consumer satisfaction.

Enhanced Product Performance: By improving the texture, viscosity, and spreadability of products, emulsifiers contribute to a superior user experience. For instance, in the food industry, they help create smooth and creamy textures in ice creams, salad dressings, and margarine.

Versatility in Formulations: Emulsifiers allow manufacturers to create a wide range of formulations. They are used in everything from personal care products like shampoos and moisturizers to pharmaceutical formulations like oral suspensions and topical creams.

Cost Efficiency: The use of emulsifiers can reduce production costs by enhancing product quality and improving processing efficiency. Their ability to stabilize formulations means fewer quality control issues, less wastage, and smoother production cycles.

Drivers of Growth in the Emulsifier Market

Increasing Demand for Processed Food and Beverages: As consumer lifestyles become busier, particularly in regions like North America, the demand for ready-to-eat and easy-to-cook processed foods has surged. These products often rely on emulsifiers to ensure the proper texture and consistency, thereby driving market growth. Fast-paced lifestyles and the desire for time-saving food preparation methods have created a booming market for processed foods, fueling demand for emulsifiers.

Technological Advancements and Product Modernization: Innovations in emulsifier technology, such as the development of more efficient and sustainable emulsifiers, are spurring market growth. New emulsifiers are being introduced with better performance properties and improved quality, which increases their applicability across various industries.

Established Emulsifier Manufacturing Companies: North America and Europe house many well-established emulsifier manufacturers that cater to the growing demand for emulsifiers across sectors. The market is expanding due to these companies' continuous advancements in emulsifier technologies, enhancing both the quality and range of emulsifier applications.

Challenges in the Emulsifier Market

Raw Material Sourcing: One of the primary challenges faced by the emulsifier market is the sourcing of raw materials. Traditional emulsifiers are often derived from petrochemical or animal-based sources, but there is growing pressure to shift to more sustainable and plant-based alternatives. Sourcing these ingredients in sufficient quantities while maintaining cost-effectiveness remains a challenge for many manufacturers.

Regulatory Constraints: As emulsifiers are heavily regulated, particularly in food and pharmaceuticals, companies must navigate complex and varied regulations across different markets. This regulatory landscape can slow down product development and innovation, especially as consumer preferences shift towards cleaner, more natural ingredients.

Consumer Preferences: As awareness of health and wellness grows, consumers are increasingly demanding clean-label products that contain fewer synthetic ingredients. This trend challenges emulsifier manufacturers to innovate and offer natural or plant-based emulsifiers that align with the growing demand for transparency and sustainability in ingredient sourcing.

Opportunities in the Emulsifier Market

Growing Demand for Plant-Based Emulsifiers: With consumers becoming more health-conscious and environmentally aware, there is an increasing demand for plant-based emulsifiers. These emulsifiers, derived from sources like soy, sunflower, and canola, align with the rising preference for vegan and non-GMO products. This trend presents significant opportunities for companies to develop and market plant-based emulsifiers that cater to both food and non-food industries.

Sustainability Focus: Manufacturers are investing in bio-based emulsifiers that offer both environmental and functional benefits. Plant-based and sustainable emulsifiers are seen as alternatives to synthetic chemicals, which are often criticized for their environmental impact. The growing sustainability focus is a crucial opportunity for the emulsifier market to innovate and offer eco-friendly solutions.

Future of the Emulsifier Market

The emulsifier market is expected to continue its growth trajectory, fueled by several key factors:

Regional Growth: The demand for emulsifiers is projected to rise significantly in emerging markets, where urbanization and disposable income are increasing. In regions like Asia-Pacific and Latin America, the expanding food and beverage sectors are particularly driving the market, with an increasing shift towards processed foods and beverages.

Technological Innovation: Future developments in emulsifier technology will likely lead to the creation of more efficient, eco-friendly, and functional emulsifiers. The integration of novel ingredients such as plant-based emulsifiers, which meet both consumer demands and sustainability standards, will shape the market's future.

Clean-Label and Natural Ingredients: The ongoing trend towards clean-label products, which feature natural and recognizable ingredients, will continue to impact the emulsifier market. Manufacturers will need to prioritize transparency in their ingredient sourcing and work towards providing natural alternatives to synthetic emulsifiers.

To know more download PDF brochure : 

The emulsifier market is evolving rapidly, driven by technological innovations, shifting consumer preferences, and the increasing demand for processed foods and beverages. While challenges like raw material sourcing and regulatory hurdles persist, the growing interest in sustainable and plant-based emulsifiers presents significant opportunities. As the market continues to evolve, manufacturers who can adapt to these trends and focus on clean-label and eco-friendly solutions will be best positioned for success in the future.

[the-crepuscular-queen]

Something about this quote. Something about how trust is a major factor to Gideon's and Harrow's relationship to work together and how that snowballs into more. It's just going to rotate in my mind forever.

[jobyoda-philippines]

Exploring Career and Job Opportunities in Davao City Philippines

Davao City, recognized as one of the Philippines' most progressive cities, continues to experience remarkable economic growth, creating a vibrant job market that attracts professionals from across the country. The city's diverse economy offers numerous employment opportunities, from entry-level positions to executive roles, making it an attractive destination for job seekers at all career stages.

The Business Process Outsourcing (BPO) sector stands as one of the largest employers in Davao City, providing thousands of jobs across various specializations. Companies in this sector actively recruit customer service representatives, technical support specialists, and quality assurance analysts, offering competitive salaries and comprehensive benefits packages. The industry's continued expansion has created numerous opportunities for career advancement, with many organizations promoting from within and providing extensive training programs.

Part-time employment opportunities have also flourished in Davao City, catering to students, professionals seeking additional income, and individuals preferring flexible work arrangements. The retail sector, food service industry, and education field offer numerous part-time positions with varying schedules and responsibilities. These roles often provide valuable work experience and can serve as stepping stones to full-time careers.

The Information Technology sector in Davao has seen significant growth, with many companies seeking software developers, web designers, and IT support specialists. This growth has been fueled by the city's improving technological infrastructure and the increasing number of tech-focused businesses establishing operations in the region. Tech professionals can find opportunities in both established companies and startups, with many positions offering competitive compensation and the possibility of remote work arrangements.

Davao's hospitality and tourism industry continues to expand, creating jobs in hotels, restaurants, travel agencies, and tour operations. The sector offers positions ranging from entry-level service roles to management positions, with many employers providing training and development opportunities. The industry's growth has also sparked demand for professionals in events management and tourism marketing.

The education sector presents numerous opportunities for both full-time and part-time employment. Educational institutions regularly seek teachers, tutors, and administrative staff. The rise of online learning has created additional opportunities for English language teachers and academic consultants who can work flexible hours from home or teaching centers.

Job hiring  in Davao, the digital economy has opened new avenues for employment. E-commerce specialists, digital content creators, and social media managers are in high demand as businesses increasingly establish their online presence. These positions often offer the flexibility of remote work while providing competitive compensation packages.

Professional development resources are readily available in Davao City, with numerous institutions offering skills training programs and industry certifications. Job seekers can access career counseling services, resume writing assistance, and interview coaching through various employment support organizations. These resources prove invaluable in helping candidates prepare for and secure desired positions.

The financial services sector in Davao has also experienced substantial growth, creating opportunities for banking professionals, insurance specialists, and investment consultants. These positions typically offer attractive compensation packages, including performance bonuses and health benefits, making them highly sought after by experienced professionals.

Davao's agricultural sector continues to evolve, combining traditional farming with modern agribusiness practices. This has created opportunities for agricultural technologists, food processing specialists, and supply chain professionals. The sector offers both technical and management positions, with many companies providing specialized training and development programs.

For those entering Davao's job market, proper preparation is essential. Successful job seekers typically maintain updated resumes, prepare comprehensive portfolios, and stay informed about industry developments. Professional networking, both online and offline, plays a crucial role in discovering opportunities and advancing careers in the city.

The future of Davao's job market looks promising, with emerging industries creating new employment opportunities. The city's commitment to economic development, coupled with its strategic location and robust infrastructure, continues to attract businesses and investors, ensuring a steady stream of job opportunities for qualified candidates.

Whether seeking full-time employment or part-time job in Davao City offers a diverse range of opportunities across multiple industries. Success in this dynamic job market often comes to those who combine proper preparation with continuous skill development and effective networking. As the city continues to grow and evolve, its job market remains a beacon of opportunity for professionals seeking to build meaningful careers in Mindanao's premier business hub.

[sudiptaam]

Potato Processing Market Global Market Size 2025–2035

Industry Outlook

The Potato Processing Market was valued at USD 40.2 Billion in 2024 and is projected to reach USD 78.72 Billion by 2035, growing at a CAGR of 6.3% during the forecast period. The rise in demand for convenient food options and the booming fast-food industry are primary factors driving the global potato processing market. From French fries and chips to starch and dehydrated products, processed potato items are widely consumed across both developed and developing economies.

Request Sample-https://www.metatechinsights.com/request-sample/1893

Market Overview Urbanization, changing dietary habits, and increasing disposable incomes have led to the rapid adoption of ready-to-eat potato products. The demand is further supported by expanding retail chains and the growth of the foodservice industry. Technological advancements in processing methods and storage solutions have also enabled longer shelf lives and improved quality of processed potatoes.

Full Report-https://www.metatechinsights.com/industry-insights/potato-processing-market-1893

Key Market Drivers

Rising demand for convenience foods and ready-to-cook products

Growth of fast-food chains worldwide

Expanding foodservice industry, particularly in Asia-Pacific

Technological innovations in processing and packaging

Increasing usage of potato starch in food and industrial applications

Key Challenges

Price volatility of raw potatoes

Health concerns related to fried and high-carb products

Stringent regulations regarding food safety and additives

Seasonal dependency and perishability of raw material

Segment Overview By Type: Frozen, Chips & Snacks, Dehydrated, Starch, Others By Application: Foodservice, Retail, Industrial By Distribution Channel: Supermarkets/Hypermarkets, Convenience Stores, Online, Others

Regional Insights North America held a significant share in 2024, driven by established fast-food chains and high per capita consumption. However, the Asia-Pacific region is expected to witness the fastest growth rate through 2035 due to rising urbanization, changing dietary preferences, and increasing investments in food processing infrastructure. India and China are key emerging markets with massive growth potential.

Buy Now-https://www.metatechinsights.com/checkout/1893

Competitive Landscape Major players in the market include McCain Foods, Lamb Weston Holdings Inc., J.R. Simplot Company, Aviko B.V., and Farm Frites International B.V. These companies focus on product innovation, capacity expansions, and mergers & acquisitions to strengthen their global presence. Strategic partnerships with foodservice providers are also common.

Recent Developments

McCain announced a new eco-friendly processing facility in Canada focused on sustainability and automation.

Lamb Weston launched a new product line of gluten-free potato snacks catering to the health-conscious segment.

Aviko expanded its production plant in Eastern Europe to meet growing demand in the region.

[farmerstrend]

Cassava Ugali and the Rise of Cassava Farming: A Comprehensive Exploration

Cassava ugali and stewed smoked fish is one of my all-time favorite meals. There is something deeply satisfying about the rich, earthy flavor of cassava paired with the smoky aroma of the fish stew. However, I’ve learned to eat it cautiously, knowing that cassava ugali, while delicious, can be heavy and pasty. Its dense nature makes it incredibly filling, a trait both a blessing and a challenge…

[ingredientsonline]

Top Trends in Plant-Based Ingredients

[pearlsmith25]

Market Segmentation: Unraveling Diverse Product Categories in the Frozen Processed Food Market

Frozen processed food includes a variety of ready-to-eat food products such as frozen pizza, meat products, seafood, ready meals and several bakery and convenience food items that undergo processing or treatment in order to prevent contamination and extend shelf life. Frozen processed foods offer consumers nutritious and wholesome meal options in less time compared to fresh foods preparation. The convenience and nutrition benefits offered by frozen processed foods have led to significant demand among consumers.

The global Frozen Processed Food Market is estimated to be valued at US$ 167115.0 Mn in 2023 and is expected to exhibit a CAGR of 4.8% over the forecast period 2023 to 2030, as highlighted in a new report published by Coherent Market Insights. Market Opportunity: The growing demand for nutritious and healthy food options presents a key opportunity for the frozen processed food market. With rising health awareness, consumers are increasingly preferring food products that are low in fat, sugar and calories. Frozen processed foods manufactured by major players are rich in nutrients but low in unhealthy ingredients. They offer similar nutrition level as fresh foods while being convenient to consume. Manufacturers are innovating in terms of developing varied product portfolio including organic, gluten-free and vegetarian/vegan frozen food items. They are also focusing on clean-label products. The market opportunity for providing healthy and nutritious frozen food choices supports the growth of the market over the forecast period. Porter’s Analysis Threat of new entrants: The frozen processed food market requires high capital investment for production, distribution and branding. Established players enjoy economies of scale and customer loyalty making entry difficult for new players. Bargaining power of buyers: Buyers have moderate bargaining power given the availability of substitutes. However, branded products and loyalty creates switching costs for buyers. Bargaining power of suppliers: Suppliers of raw materials like vegetables and meat have low bargaining power given the availability of alternatives. Suppliers are highly fragmented. Threat of new substitutes: Substitutes like ready-to-eat meals pose competition. However, frozen foods offer variety, convenience and can be stored for longer. Competitive rivalry: The market is highly competitive with large multinational players dominating. Companies compete on brand, variety, quality, promotions and expanding distribution. SWOT Analysis Strength: Branded players enjoy strong brand recognition, distribution networks, varied product portfolio and economies of scale. Demand is growing due to changing lifestyles and demand for convenience foods. Weakness: Heavy reliance on few raw materials makes players vulnerable to price fluctuations. Food safety issues can impact brands adversely. Large players face challenges in customizing products for regional tastes. Opportunity: Emerging markets offer huge untapped growth potential. Changing diets and rising incomes will propel demand. Innovation in product formulations, packaging can aid growth. Threats: Economic slowdowns can impact demand adversely. Substitutes pose competition. Stringent regulations around food safety and labeling compliance increase operating costs. Key Takeaways The global frozen processed food market is expected to witness high growth. The global Frozen Processed Food Market is estimated to be valued at US$ 167115.0 Mn in 2023 and is expected to exhibit a CAGR of 4.8% over the forecast period 2023 to 2030.

North America currently dominates due to busy lifestyles and demand for convenience foods. However, growth is expected to be higher in Asia Pacific region led by India and China. Changing diets, urbanization and rising incomes are propelling demand for frozen foods in the region. Key players operating in the frozen processed food market are Nestle S.A., ConAgra Foods, Inc., Kraft Foods Group, Inc., Mother Dairy Fruit & Vegetable Pvt Ltd, BRF S.A., General Mills, Inc., Maple Leaf Foods Inc., Tyson Foods, Inc., and Unilever Plc. Large multinationals are focusing on product innovation, facility expansion and mergers and acquisitions to strengthen their market position. Companies are also targeting smaller cities and towns for growth. Private labels pose competition but are not significant substitutes for leading brands due to quality perceptions.

[yandere-wishes]

Okay idea for your Batwoman!fam

Okay so you know how Cassandra Cain was raised in the League of Assassins to essentially be the bodyguard of Ra’s Al Ghul, what if Damian’s darling was raised in the League of Assassins as well but she was raised with a different purpose, to be the future wife of the heir, aka Damian.

Just some food for thought

⋆ ˚｡⋆Damian Wayne x Superhero! Reader ⋆˚｡⋆

જ⁀➴Notes: DARLING, YOU HAVE THE BIGGEST GALAXY BRAIN OUT THERE!!!!!!!!! THE THINGS I COULD WRITE FOR THIS. I'M FROTHING AT THE MOUTH!!!!

No cause like now, I'm thinking of Talia and Ra's selecting the best assassins out of the league and making them get married. They are told that their firstborn daughter is destined to become the bride of the Demon's hair. (Kinda like Dune's breeding program)

Talia practically raises you, an aunt/older sister/second mother/mentor whatever you'd like to call her. She raises you in the ways of the League. Trains you alongside her son. She dictates everything for you. Your clothes, personality, preferences. She molds you to be perfect. And while her tactics are dictatorial at best she does truly utterly love you. You are destined to be her daughter, to be her precious Damian's wife. You will continue her legacy. Thus she must raise you to be flawless…

In many ways, Damian likes to think that he knows you better than he knows himself. He tells himself that he's memorized every alcove and aperture of your ethereal soul. That your essence is as familiar to him as the dawn orisons. Damian al Ghul likes to think he knows his future bride-to-be.

And can you blame him? Can you really blame a boy for believing so earnestly, so passionately in a beautiful tale he's been told since birth?

He watches as you tend to the newborn goats on the farm. Run your fingers through the fawn's snowy coat. "Damian!" you call out waving to him excitedly. "Come see the new billys. We must commence in naming them at once." Your face is so serious as you look up at him. Eyes sparkling brighter than any star. He dares to wonder if you'll look at him with the same expression while you cradle your firstborn. Demanding that their father pick an adequate name immediately. Damian can't help the blush that ghosts across his cheeks.

Fairy tales are real. This is the conclusion Damian has come to. Dragons do exist, and they serve their purpose of stealing away hopeless damsels in the dead of night. Only now Damian doesn't know if he's truly fit to be the prince that comes and saves you…

Weeks prior the League's fortress had the misfortune of welcoming a guest from Gotham. 'A red-haired woman with a crazed bloody smile' as some of the members had described her. He had been training with his grandfather and was ordered to remain in the training rooms and practice while Ra's went to entertain this guest. You had been with Talia at the time and had the misfortune of meeting this monster too. Or at least that's how Damian believes the story goes.

"Master Damian" you greet. He can't help but shudder at the frosty smile you offer him. Day to day he feels your soul wander away never truly present. He reaches out, desperate to feel your warm skin grace his, to cradle your cheek as if it were the whole world. But he's only met with the silky wisp of your hair as you walk away. He doesn't like the way his heart aches, doesn't like the phantoms that occupy your mind.

Damian remembers the day you disappeared in shambles. Fragments of a nightmare that haunts him all through the night. There had been an alert in the middle of the night. Someone had broken in, taken out the guards. By the time the furor settles Damian and his mother notice what the thief had taken.

Not precious gems or priceless treasures.

Not the countless documents on every important figure in the world.

Not the tomes of endless knowledge his grandfather stores in his personal study.

No…

The thief had simply taken one thing.

You.

And in the process, Damian's heart as well.

The nightmare still haunts him. Even if only a mere few days later, the League had been attacked again. He was forced to be separated from his mother and his home. Fleeing to a foreign land to live with a father he's never known. Throughout all of this, Damian's heart still longs for you. He promises he'll find you again no matter where in the world he is.

It's been a long miserable year before Damian sees you again. His father is hosting a gala. An excuse of some sort to gather all of the Wayne enterprises under one roof. Damian cares little for the reason and cares less about the people. Too preoccupied with the inconvenience of having to be here in the first place.

"Damian, you've met my cousin Kate Kane before, right?" Bruce walks over to him, and the rest of his brothers approach too. Bruce has that look in his eyes. Something important is about to be said, Damian knows it. His adrenaline spikes, hope bubbling in his throat. Has there been a breakout in Arkham? A rogue attack somewhere? He'll take just about anything right now to get out of this dull gathering.

Kate clears her throat. Mentions that about a year ago she adopted a new daughter. She makes excuses for why it's taken her so long to formally introduce this new addition to her family. Damian only half listens. Bored once more. Until he notices an all too familiar face. And that familiar ache blooms in his chest once more.

He sees you hiding behind that wretched woman. You beam at her the way you used to do to his mother. Have you replaced the woman who raised and cherished you so easily? Have you replaced him too? You greet Damian with a court nob and avert your eyes. Desperate not to look at him, not to be reminded of your past.

Damian watches as the new hero, Batwoman's new sidekick, Corvid as she's taken to calling you. Swings across the city skyline. Intercepting one of Two-Face's hists. "She was my bethrode back during our time in the league." Bruce is sitting next to him, listening in the somber way he always does."Do you miss her?" he finally asks. "More than air, should it be robbed from my lungs." Bruce laughs, a short dark noise. His large palm pats Damian's shoulder before he marches into the darkness. It takes an endless moment for Damian to understand what that means, to understand the blessing the Dark Knight has bestowed upon his blood son.

Damian watches as you hug your new "mother". Feels the betrayal slither across his throat. He suffocates on the pain, the jealousy. Suffocates as he swears he'll take you back no matter the cost. You will be his once more, you will fulfill your destiny. As it has been written.

Damian heads home, he needs to contact his mother. Needs to tell her that you are safe. It'll calm her restless heart to know her beloved little girl has been found…

Okay I am going to have total nerd moment. Cause like what if this was kinda mixed with the original assassins?

[michellesneptune]

How do you engage in friendships according to Moon?

Fire Moons (Aries, Leo, Sagittarius)

As a fire Moon of course it makes sense that you seek thrill and spark in your friendships! There’s nothing better for you than a shared sense of adventure with people you love. You cannot sit still and will go to great lengths to come up with a purpose, a plan, a scheme — whatever it may be, just to experience it with friends. The journey is the destination. You’ll do things just because, as they gain importance out of the sheer fact that you live through them together. You can’t stand it when your friends prefer to stay home and do nothing (as an earth Moon, that is my idea of fun, sorry guys😭).

Extraordinary experiences and photo album worthy moments are what ties you together and are the source of the feeling of belonging. You love fast-paced hangouts that create memories. When any obstacle comes up, you have the ability to transform it into something that only strengthens the bond — you’re not afraid of challenges as you’re aware that they’re just as important in maintaining a friendship as easy moments and shared laughter are.

Aries Moons=the ultimate challengers!! Whether they’ll challenge you to eat a bug or run a marathon, you’ll find yourself doing things you never thought you would — just to prove something to your Aries Moon friend. Overcoming your fears is a given with them.

Leo Moons, I’ve noticed, often play the role of the glue that keeps a friend group together. They’ll demand of you to come to their party and make sure that the trip does make it out of the group chat. In this day and age I appreciate you guys so much, it’s harder and harder to find someone as dedicated to keep the bong alive🥹 You guys make amazing, trustworthy leaders like that.

Staying devoted to a Sagittarius Moon=staying devoted to solving life’s most perplexing mysteries. Do you believe in aliens? Is time real? If you want to talk about quantum physics — they’re your man. Fancy conversation topics aren’t elitist and boring, they’re fascinating.

Earth Moons (Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn)

One thing about earth Moons is that they are yappers😭. Just not in the intellectual academic philosophical way that air Moons are. They will bring up the same story over and over again, especially if it involves a heartbreak.

Food, talking and the perspective of having no other obligation — that is what heaven looks like for you guys. You tend to be all about the physical so getting cosy and comfortable, on a couch, with a glass of good wine is almost crucial in order to get real with them besties. People would say that Cap Moons are workaholic, Virgo — neurotic in their perfectionism, and Taurus — too focused on money. But the fact is that they really do open up, are talkative, and looove juicy gossip, but with a certain dose of level-headedness and planning.

You are very loyal (who would've thought), but your silent input and help often goes unnoticed and unapreciated. Providing your friends with whatever they need while in trouble is just obvious to the bone for you. I feel like you guys need to learn that it's 100% okay to leave a friendship which does not serve you. But trust me, I do get it. It's painfully hard to acknowledge that someone you loved and trusted may actually not have your best interest.

Taurus Moons=the best party hosts EVER. They're generous like no other and their hospitality actually comes from a very honest place. They do not mind cooking pasta for twelve people or sharing their couch with you. However, it is obligatory to get into their good graces first!!

Virgo Moons=the therapist. If they really value you, they will pay deepest attention to your problems, then carefully analyzing the best solution. They often have the intellect to understand your psyche and thought process really well, ergo you'll feel understood like never before.

Capricorn Moons=the moms. Y’all are so caring because you deeply believe that friendships are for life. I’ve also noticed that you like to do business with your friends and get rich together lol. You take them seriously, for you friendship=respect.

Air Moons (Gemini, Libra, Aquarius)

Each day that passes, my Air Moon friend bombards my phone with text message notifiactions. And it makes me feel so loved. Those are often the most random stories from his work but words cannot express enough how honored I feel that he chooses to text me every single day. Like I feel almost intimidated and awkward sometimes, you know?

You guys cannot ever be out-debated on literally any topic under the Sun. You're also extremely observant and like to discuss everything later with your friends. There is a level of detachment here, so it almost reminds me of a meta-language hahah. You talk about something seemingly miniscule, but the message here is I'm connecting with you because you can access my brain and match my intellect. You like to play make-believe with your friends — your imaginations contain multiple realities. Why settle for a single one then?

Gemini Moons are airy+mercurial which makes for a diabolically intelligent combo. Also, as Moon is our core, our emotions and safe space, when it is touched by Gemini energy, friendships tend to play a big role in the native's life. You’ve probably lived through at least one truly life-changing friendship. Also, a platonic friend could turn out to be a soulmate.

Libra Moons almost always deliver with great gossip about their love life fr. Like where do you guys finds these men. As I've stated in me previous post — I consider Libras intellectual and erudite. They're the best companion to take to a theater for Master and Margarita or to a Chopin concert. They’re also least likely to get mad at you for ghosting them lol.

People with Aquarius energy over their moon, please tell me bizzarre and beautiful stories from your childhood. Things you speak about sound almost like fairy tales to me. Could listen for hours.

Water Moons (Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces)

Water Moons remain the biggest mystery to me. Like they can be anyone and anything. Your friend groups are usually kind of obscure and hidden, containing of people seemingly having nothing in common with each other. Reminds me of an enigmatic, good-looking clique in school that everyone is dying to know more about.

You remain emotionally devoted, even after the friendship has formally ended. You take your ex-friends' deepest, darkest secrets and store deep in your heart. They're probably scared of bumping into you even years later. Also maybe haunted with the feeling of regret

What strikes me most about you is how understanding you are. Most people tend to say things like you can tell me anything. However often, they don’t really mean it. Anything is a difficult promise which you, on the contrary, are willing to actually keep. This makes me feel so safe with you guys🥺. You understand what’s actually important in relationships and would never compromise that. People without Water inner placements in their chart just don’t possess that special watery sensitivity.

Cancer Moons are like a bandage, a remedy to emotional wounds. Many of them become psychotherapists because their knowledge and expertise in human feelings is worthy of an actual professional.

Scorpio Moons are tricky because it’s highly probable that they’ve hidden their real selves so so deep inside that they cannot express a secret to their friends even if their lives depended on it. Nonetheless, I think it’s still worth it to try and open up those scorpions🥺

Pisces Moons are hopeless romantics!! Even in a platonic sense, they be waiting for that perfect friendship straight from Anne of Green Gables. They’re very sacrificing and will treat you like the apple of their eye🍎

It’s summertime again and she’s back <33 thank you guys for reading! 🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Yours forever,

Michelle~

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

frontman x reader whos a player but not because of debt but because she was investigating with gi-hun and ju-hon and got in the limousine and then in-ho falls in love with her and gets her out of the game with him like at the end of the season

can u also like not write it like a hate love relationship? like readers conflicted but still likes in-ho

Keeping you safe

Hwang In-ho x reader

hiii, pleasure writing your request! hope it’s the way you imagined :)

Word count: 3,3k

Warnings: violence, murder,…

Requests are open! i would also like to write something about Jun-ho or the salesman, so hmu

When you jumped into the limousine after Gi-hun you didn’t consider its consequences. Jun-ho trusted you to keep your eyes on Gi-hun at all costs and you were going to keep your word, even when it meant making yourself vulnerable.

The gas was sweet on your tongue and Gi-hun already slumped down on the plush leather of the limo seats. But you were wide awake, somehow defying sleep’s influence, shaking, still processing what the deep voice implied and Gi-hun demanded. “Put me in the game. But leave her out of it.”

Those words were followed by a dry laugh. You knew that meant there was no way out of it now. You started whispering into the intercom to Jun-ho, saying how sorry you were. His panicked voice was cut off by you turning off the device while you prepared yourself for the Frontman’s reaction, closing your eyes and taking shallow breaths.

“No. Those are my games and my rules. Might make them more interesting, don’t you agree, player 456?”

Then the gas started rising up from the floor. Gi-hun grabbed your hand, rumbling about how sorry he was. You smiled wearily, pressing his hand. “It’s okay, Gi-hun.” You both knew it wasn’t. It was as far from ‘okay’ as possible.

His fingers went limp and you resigned, waiting for the inevitable. With muted senses you watched the tinted protection shield go down. Behind it was the man in the mask himself, looking at you over his shoulder. Just when his gloved hand hovered over his mask, shrugging it off, you were engulfed in darkness.

***

After the first game, you thought that nothing could surprise you anymore. As much as Gi-hun tried to keep you from all the bloodshed, even he couldn’t cover your eyes and ears every time there was a gunshot. Still pale and shaken, digging dirt and blood from beneath your nails, you sat on your bed with the provided food in your lap, watching your surroundings. At least Gi-hun could be happy he found here his long lost friend, with whom he was now talking. You still didn’t speak to anyone else. You were scared that if you did, they would be dead by tomorrow.

You barely noticed there was any commotion until the sudden silence peaked your interest. There was a skirmish between three guys, two of them working together, which made the outcome of the fight quite obvious. There was another player stalking towards the group, trying to break up the fight.

“I said save the lecture for your own damn kids.” one of the guys shouted at him. That’s when you noticed the player’s still frame, like a cat before launching at its prey. And you were right; within a blink of an eye, he put both of the guys on their backs, not even breaking a sweat. You looked closer at him, reading the number 001 on his back. Even from afar you could see how deadly calm he was while choking one of them. After a moment the rage left his body and he released his grip. You didn’t expect the applause that followed his actions. You exchanged a look with Gi-hun. Were you the only one who sensed something foreboding?

You turned your attention back to the food in your lap and decided that even though you weren’t hungry, you desperately needed the energy. But in your mind, all you could think about was the player 001. Was he a police detective like Jun-ho or a former marine like Jung-bae or Dae-ho? Or something else entirely?

It took you a while to get out of your head and notice that his bed was right next to yours. With a sigh, player 001 sat down, grabbing his unfinished food. Just then he noticed your searching look and gave you a tentative smile.

“Hello, sir,” you began, looking down at your hands. A sudden wave of nervousness came over you. “I’m Y/N. Do you mind telling me your name?”

“No bother, Y/N,” he replied and you stared at his lips, at how perfectly they formed your name. “I’m Young-il. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” you grinned at him in response, holding out your hand that he tentatively shook.

“Nice moves there,” you pointed your chin to the middle of the dormitory where the fight took place. “You could teach me if you had time, I’m terrible in combat.” A lie. Jun-ho himself taught you how to hold yourself and how to hold a gun. You were just trying to find out who Young-il was.

“If we have time, yes.” he nodded absentmindedly, scooping up a mouthful of rice.

“Do you mind me asking? I was just wondering if you have any children.” you said carefully.

“No, I don't.” Young-il replied, suddenly his gaze sharp.

“Well, I just thought that, based on your reaction to what that other player told you-“ you searched for the answer in his closely guarded expression. “You lost your child, didn’t you?”

Young-il didn’t say anything to that, his cutlery going limp in his hand.

“I just- I’d know that look anywhere. I know it’s not something to bond over,” you gave a startled laugh, fidgeting under his everlasting gaze, “but if you’d like to talk about it-“

“Thank you.” He reached out and squeezed your hand. His touch was calloused and warm. “I mean it.”

You smiled softly, squeezing his fingers in response. “I know.”

Preparing yourself for lights out, you couldn’t ignore his lingering gaze following your movements. Thankfully Gi-hun approached you and sat next to you on the bed, guilt visible in his expression.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to drag you into this. And I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe-“

“Don’t worry about that, sir. I can take care of myself. Anyways, I was only following Jun-ho’s orders. It had nothing to do with you.”

Unconvinced, Gi-hun sighed and moved to his own bed, not having the energy at the moment to argue with you. You finally lay down, moving the thin blanket over your body, curling up on your side.

“I overheard you talking about Jun-ho, and I couldn’t help but notice how familiar that name sounds to me,” Young-il broke the silence, looking at you with curiosity in his eyes.

“Well, he used to work as a police detective so that’s why you might know him.”

“Oh, yes, that might be possible,” Young-il gave you a restrained smile. “And he is to you-?”

“A friend. I used to work as a secretary in his department, that’s all.” you smiled back.

“Oh, sorry to pry.” he looked at his hands.

“Not at all.” He looked into your eyes and your eyes crinkled with another smile. Only when he looked away did you turn around in your bed. A few minutes later you heard Gi-hun and Young-il talking and even though you didn’t want to, it was impossible to not overhear. Young-il was explaining the story of why he’s in the games and why he chose to continue playing - how his pregnant wife was gravely ill and he needed the money due to her medical bills. Somehow, this answer shocked you, even though you shouldn't have been thrown off by it. Of course he was married.

Only after the whole dormitory fell silent did you finally fall into a fitful sleep.

***

“Thank you, Young-il.” you whispered to him, gratefully touching his shoulder. Young-il turned his gaze your way and the corners of his eyes crinkled under the influence of a smile. Only his supportive words during the six legged pentathlon could calm you down, which resulted in you successfully completing your mini game. The memory flashed through your mind - tears welling in your eyes, hands shaking as you reached again and again for the gong-gi pebbles. You could sense your teammates’ growing unease but that even worsened your situation. After the third attempt, Young-il grabbed you by the elbow, leaning closer as he said: “Ignore everything else okay? Just listen to me and focus.”

You nodded, bewildered eyes setting again on the pebbles. You were kneeling in a puddle of blood, which didn’t exactly help calm your nerves.

“Just concentrate. I know you can do it. Look at you, all flushed red and focused. This look suits you.” The pebbles balanced on the knuckles of your hand, just one more throw. You looked up at Young-il, lips slightly parted. Were you hearing correctly? Maintaining eye contact, you threw the pebbles op with a sudden surge of confidence and caught them flawlessly. Everyone cheered and you were hoisted up by your team, but all you could hear were Young-il’s last words whispered in your ear: “Good girl.”

Now he was looking at you, this new tension between you two palpable.

“Anytime.”

***

While you tried to act nonchalant, it was just impossible. The way Young-il now watched you at all times drove you crazy, feeling his gaze like a branding on your body. You were grateful for keeping a watch during the lights off, thinking that it could distract you from your own dirty thoughts. But it was quite the contrary.

Overlooking the silent dark room, those words echoed in you even more soundly. Good girl. With a sigh you stretched out your legs, trying to ignore the tightness in your underbelly. You were annoyed with yourself. Why did the words of a stranger make you feel this way? Words of a married stranger, more like it.

“You seem distracted.”

You jumped at that impassive raspy voice. Thankfully, once Young-ho sat down next to you, he couldn’t notice your flushed cheeks due to the impassable darkness. Your shoulders touched and to your surprise he didn’t immediately move away.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really.” you smiled with your head bowed, nearly chuckling at how clueless he must be.

There was an awkward silence following your reply, so, without thinking about it, you said: “Thank you again for today, truly. You helped me a lot.”

Young-il looked at you, searching for something in your expression. Apparently he found it. “You think about that a lot, don’t you?”

“Sorry?” you stumbled over your words, not knowing how to react, what to say.

“My words alone made you quiver. Now imagine what my tongue could do.” he whispered, teasing you, a spark in his eyes.

“Young-il-“ you breathed out, suddenly aware of how close his face was to yours. You felt your underwear getting wetter by the minute. But you put that all in the back of your mind as you said: “I know you are married. Expecting a child, even. You shouldn’t say things like that.”

He blinked, taken aback. “Does that bother you? Or are you bothered by the effect I have on you?”

You sighed, looking away from his handsome face. Was he sent here just to test your boundaries?

“I still have enough self control to know right from wrong.” But your body wasn’t in line with your thoughts.

Young-il stared at you for a moment, then sighed, irritated. “My wife and my child are gone. I just don’t enjoy talking about them in past tense. I joined the games out of misery, nothing more. Are you happy now?”

You froze, looking at the way his arms formed into fists at his sides. It was like having ice cold water poured all over you.

“Young-il, I’m so-“

“Don’t be. It’s been a long time.” Eyes meeting, he smiled at you tentatively. You squeezed his warm hand and he relaxed, loosening his fist.

“Right now, I don’t care about anything but you.” He caressed your cheek with the back of his hand, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Moving closer, he kissed the bruise already blossoming on your jaw. And you let him.

“I don’t want to scare you away with my… infatuation. But right now, I’m so desperately weak for you.” Your breathing hitched as he moved his lips to your ear.

Just when you thought he would kiss you, he suddenly pulled away.

“I’ll take over the watch. You should sleep, muster some energy for tomorrow.” You nodded as if in a trance. He helped you stand up and led you to your bed. Young-il left you standing there, leaving only the whisper of his lips branding your cheek.

***

The third game was a whirlwind of movement. Only thanks to Young-il were you still alive and breathing. Every time a number was announced, he firmly grasped your wrist and dragged you with him wherever he went. Not that you were complaining - you were so overstimulated by all the commotion that you were glad you could keep up with him.

When one player tried to separate you from him, Young-il bared his teeth and kicked him square in the chest. “She’s mine,” There it was, the cold expression and clenched jaw. Even though you were on the brink of dying, a shiver ran down your spine.

You made it safe with your group into one of the rooms and soon were walking out to play the last round. You knew exactly what the woman’s voice was going to announce and you were right: “Two.”

Young-il was already moving, pushing people out of your way. Everything seemed to go smoothly, until you reached the room; a player was already inside.

“Get out.” Young-il growled and reached the man, trying to get him on his legs and out of the room.

“We were here first,” the player whimpered. You noticed other players running to the door you were standing next to and panicking, you closed it, pushing your whole body against it.

You looked over your shoulder at Young-il, wanting to see if he was any closer to pushing the player out through the doors. But you froze when you saw he was holding the man in a headlock, choking him. All you could do was stare.

Young-il was looking straight back at you. And with one smooth motion of his arms he broke the man’s spine, leaving him staring at the ceiling, going limp in Young-il’s grip.

“I’d do anything for you, Y/N.” Young-il said, slowly getting up. You couldn’t tear your gaze from the lifeless body on the ground.

Only when he knelt in front of you did your eyes meet his. He grabbed your cold, shaking hands, kissing the knuckles while staring into your eyes.

“You’re scaring me,” you whispered, a tear rolling down your cheek.

“You poor thing,” Young-il said absentmindedly, wiping your tears away. “I can keep you safe, Y/N. I promise. All I’ve done was to prove that to you.”

“It’s scaring me how far you’re willing to go for me,” you sobbed, fighting the urge to flinch when he caressed your cheek. Still, you couldn’t find a reason to hate him. All the things he was saying were true, he did all of this for you, he killed a man for you, for your own safety.

The lock on the doors clicked and you closed your eyes, letting yourself be guided by Young-il out of the room. You knew that if you looked once more at the corpse, you would never let Young-il touch you again.

So you kept your eyes closed, choosing the easier path.

***

When the lights went out, all you could do was hold Young-il as hard as possible and count the minutes until the slaughter was over. Head against his chest, you concentrated on the sound of his heartbeat, every other sound pushed into the background. His hand was on your lower back, holding you as close as possible.

“I want to go home.” you whispered, clutching the front of his T-shirt like a small child. It was all a mistake. You shouldn’t be here.

“Okay, you will, okay? When we disarm the guards, you stay hidden, but once we take control of the rest, you have to come to my side, you understand?”

You nodded into his chest. Young-il kissed the crown of your head before leaving you under the bed as the guards tried to take control of the situation.

After many gunshots fired, you were crawling to the group of players formed in front of the main doors. Without hesitation you claimed one of the smaller guns for yourself. Somehow, the familiar weight of it calmed you down a bit. Young-il looked at you with tenseness.

“Keeping secrets, I see.” In reply you just loaded the gun, staring back.

Gi-hun looked your way over his shoulder, sending you a quick nod. The group exited the room, moving quickly down the corridor. Young-il stayed back, moving slower than the rest. Once the first guards got in your way, he pushed you to the side, saying: “This way!” Looking over your shoulder, everyone was shooting at the enemy, moving the other way. You looked back at him, unsure.

“You wanted to go home, didn’t you? Well, this is it.” seeing how indecisive you were, he sighed, “You trust me, don’t you?”

Hesitant, you followed his lead. You took the side stairs up and you got a bad feeling in your stomach. Young-il didn’t bother to check the corners, nor the other stories as you climbed the stairs. He walked like someone who knew this place, someone who wasn’t scared that he might be shot.

You stopped in your tracks, aiming your gun with a trembling hand. Young-il, upon noticing you were not following him, turned around. There was something like betrayal shining through his demeanour.

“You’re going to explain.” you said, trying to keep your voice and hand steady.

“Oh, Y/N, I think you already know.” Young-il pointed out, a corner of his lips curling up. He took one step towards you.

“What. Is. Your. Real. Name.” you said through gritted teeth, cocking your gun.

“Hwang In-ho.”

All this time, he was the long lost brother Jun-ho was trying to find. You felt the sting of betrayal in your bones.

“Was any of this real?” Tears stung in your eyes and you hated yourself for being so vulnerable.

“Oh, baby,” In-ho sighed, walking to you, kneeling in front of you again. The muzzle of the gun touched his forehead, which he seemed unbothered by.

“Everything.” he said, looking up at you.

“I keep trying to hate you,” you whispered, trying to muster at least some hatred that would make you pull the trigger. “It would be so much easier if I did.”

In-ho reached out and gently took the gun from your trembling hand. He threw in on the ground, making it slide on the floor.

“I know,” he whispered, grabbing your hips with his hands. He stared at you yearningly. There was a burning ache in your chest clawing its way into your throat.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“I can’t. And I don’t think you want me to either.”

The worst part was that he was right.

“I know I should stay away from you, but I can’t. It’s not that simple.” A sob tore out of your throat, making it hard for you to breathe. There were so many emotions in you that your head was spinning. All you knew was the fact that you couldn’t hate the one person who deserved it the most.

“Stay with me, love. I beg you,” In-ho said hoarsely, gripping you harder, trying to make you understand. “You will be safe with me. I will not break that promise.” His eyes were filled with hope. “You felt it too, I know.”

You closed your eyes, composing yourself and your thoughts. You knew it was wrong. But you always had a weakness for the forbidden.

In-ho stood up, taking your face in his hands. He kissed your forehead, your temples, your jaw. And when he kissed you on the lips, you let yourself melt into the touch, forgetting everything else.

“You’ll be the death of me.” you whispered against his lips and he smiled into the kiss, knowing you were his.

[firingstars]

hold on (even if it’s fake)

new avengers!bucky x new avengers!reader

summary: public interaction with the new avengers has never been worse, and all of valentina's previous PR stunts have effectively failed, and only caused the team to become walking memes rather than heroes. in a last ditch effort to save face, valentina proposes a new plan: make the leader of the thunderbolts publicly date a member of the original avengers team.

warnings: 18+, mdni, soft smut, piv, fingering, no use of y/n, slight fake dating trope, slight enemies to lovers, descriptions of violence (reader lowk got some anger issues to work through), reader has avoidance issues, post-thunderbolts movie, semi thunderbolts movie spoilers, tension, angst, comfort

word count: 12.5k

a/n: i want to preface that most of this was written when i was sleepy on melatonin >:3

masterlist

“Engagement has been going down,” Mel said, gesturing towards the screen behind her. 

The team members dragged their gaze up towards the front of the room, weary expressions all over their faces. They didn’t want to hear this speech again– they knew engagement was down in the depths of hell. Shit, they wouldn’t be surprised if the world just decided to forget about them completely. 

As if to rub salt into the wound, an animated graph showed a steady arrow that ran from the top left, all the way down to the bottom right of the screen. 

“The only clicks that we are getting are memes,” Mel continued, tapping the screen of her tablet, presenting the next slide. “Most of them are about Walker and his limited time as Captain America, or talking about how Bucky is hot and his failing career in Congress, or discussing how Alexei is seen in public trying to convince locals to become fans–”

“I am a walking PR team, not a meme!” Alexei boomed, a scandalized look all over his face.

Mel gave him a smile, one that looked like she was trying to comfort a toddler more than anything. 

“What is the point of these meetings?” Yelena demanded, her hand hitting the mahogany desk in frustration. “We meet every single Friday just for you to show us pie charts and graphs on how the world hates us. We already know that– are we not just trying to do the mission?”

“I was waiting for someone to ask. Thank you, Yelena,” Valentina said, giving a practiced, disgusting smile from the head of the table. 

A wave of nausea filled the room. Lord. Last time she looked like this, the entire team had been thrown into a photoshoot that was supposed to up their familiarity with the people. All it did was create reaction photos for whenever articles of the team came out. 

“While the mission is important, the mission is nearly impossible without the people backing you up. You can’t just blow things up, and walk away if the people hate you, after all. So, we need to come at the people with a different approach,” Valentina said, standing from her seat. “What do the people of America love?”

“Disgusting, overly processed food?” Ava muttered, raising her eyebrows. 

“Yes, but you guys were not very particular with collaborating with McDonald’s last time I brought this up–”

“You put us on the face of a cereal box,” John grunted. “Isn’t that enough?”

“What America loves is a love story,” Valentia said, ignoring John. The confusion that settled in the room was palpable. The team looked at each other, frowns on their faces. Valentina continued, “And we are going to give them a love story. These people want familiarity. Something to make you guys relatable. Enjoyable to the public–”

“I’m sorry, Val, but none of us are in relationships,” Yelena cut her off. “The only one close to it is actually divorced.”

“Thanks,” John scoffed. Yelena shot him a pitiful look. 

“The relationship doesn’t have to be real. You think all those celebrities in Hollywood are actually dating?” Valentina scoffed, crossing her arms as she moved to the front of the room. Mel moved to the side, allowing her boss to take the stage. “This is a PR stunt. Something to boost your credibility. Make you guys shine– make you guys lovable.”

“I’m not getting into a fake relationship with either of these men,” Ava immediately said, frowning. Then, she looked across the table. “No offense, but none of you are exactly relationship material."

“None taken,” Bucky muttered, sighing deeply. “Valentina, what are you even going on about?”

“I’m so glad that you spoke up, Congressman,” Valentina grinned. “Because you will be the face of this project.”

“Valentina–”

“And the rest of you can relax,” she cut Bucky off, clasping her hands together in front of her. “Bucky, you may not have worked with her per se, but she does have a wonderful track record with the public, and you have worked with her friends. She’s well loved in terms of media presence, though she’s been one of my shadow agents for the last handful of years since the whole… Accords situation.”

Bucky’s eyebrows creased in suspicion. “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, a deep sigh coming from his chest.

“She is an ex-Avenger,” Valentina said, her smile growing wider. “Which means, her involvement with the New Avengers will increase our engagement with the public tenfold. And by having a romantic relationship with you, the leader of the New Avengers– well. Let’s just say, it’ll be amazing for the press.”

“Hang on– are you talking about Noir?” John asked, sitting up straight. “One of the original Avengers? Who fought in the 2012 Battle of New York? I thought she was dead.”

Valentina shrugged noncommittally as she looked at her cuticles. “Well, she doesn’t go by Noir anymore. She just goes by her first name, but she’s not dead. She just didn’t want to get in the middle of the fight that tore up the Avengers in the first place– the Accords. She removed herself from the situation entirely and never came back.”

“So… she’s been working for you,” Yelena said slowly. “And if she’s never come back, why the hell would she come back to be an Avenger again?”

“That’s a little above your paygrade now isn’t it?” Valentina smiled, a little crinkle to her nose. She turned to Bucky with a smile. “She’ll arrive here at the Watchtower within the next few days. I’ll arrange for a meeting between the two of you, and we’ll go over the expectations of what your relationship together is to be.”

“I didn’t agree to this–”

“Do you have a choice to agree?” Valentina dared him, gesturing back to the screen, where memes were still on display– still making fun of them.

Bucky paused, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth as he stared at the various different photos. Then, he looked around the conference table. None of his teammates could look him in the eye. They weren’t objecting to this either.

Fuck.

The Avengers tower is different. You know it is, and it makes your stomach churn when you see it from the outside. You hate it, even though you had made the decision with the original group to move to the Avengers compound years ago. You shouldn’t be this upset to see it bought, renovated, changed for something else.

Yet, it still bothers you.

A receptionist at the lobby recognizes you immediately, and gives you your badge to use to key in. You want to burn it into ashes immediately. Tony didn’t make you guys use badges. He had you guys use voice recognition, eye scanners, and fingerprints. You wonder if this is just a work in progress, and they’re still trying to get the tower functional. You keep your thoughts to yourself as you move to the elevator.

It’s clean, in a way that smells like a hotel. Hiding secrets, not memories. Stripped down to nothing. Valentina’s wiped away everything that was once within these walls, all the laughter.

Then again, you walked away from those same people because you couldn’t stand to watch them fight. When things got rough– when Steve and Tony asked you to choose a side, you took one look at them, and packed your bags. 

Sam called you a coward. Said that you were running.

You didn’t correct him. 

The elevator doors opened with a ding! and you’re brought to the top floor of the tower. The sound of water hits your ears. Someone is doing the dishes. You can see a few heads on the couch to the side, and they’re turning to face you. All within a few seconds, everyone’s coming to see you. Well, almost everyone. There’s a man missing from the group. 

There’s a mixture of awe and intimidation in the air. Tension and fear. You don’t know what Valentina has or hasn’t said about you, but you know what is said online about you. They continue to stand there, watching you, scanning you– sizing you up. 

You take a few steps out from the elevator, hauling your duffle bag and backpack with you. 

“Morning,” you said, giving them a curt nod before turning off to the side.

“Where are you going?” one of the men spoke up– Bob– you think. His shoulders are collapsing in on himself, and his hands are dripping with water onto the floor beside his bare feet. The Sentry that Valentina told you about– the one that damn near broke apart the entire world. 

“Conference room,” you replied, continuing to walk away.

If Valentina hasn’t completely torn down the place, then you know where you’re going. From the looks of it, it seems that she just changed the drywall and changed the wallpaper.

It looks fucking tacky. You should bother her to hire a new interior designer, honestly. Pepper would have never allowed these items to be in the tower. The mix of metals and the resin epoxy covered floors… You can imagine her, shuddering, while Tony grins beside her and hands her his card, telling her to go ahead and change whatever she wants about the place.

You push the glass door of the conference room open. It used to be a sliding door, one that would automatically open. J.A.R.V.I.S. used to greet you when you walked through this door, asked you if you wanted to turn on some light jazz while you waited for the rest of the team to barrel into the meeting room since you were always too early. 

Except, J.A.R.V.I.S. was known as Vision now, and Vision was dead. Just like almost all of the people that you once knew, and none of them are going to be walking through these doors again. No– it’s just you. You, alone, are in this tower that used to be the place you called home. It has never felt more unfamiliar in your entire life. 

“You made it. How was the flight?” Valentina smiled warmly at you, standing from her seat at the head of the table. Beside her, you see Mel standing there, ever the good assistant, with her tablet in hand ready to show you some new presentation.“Come in, come in. Take a seat.”

You want to skin her. Slowly dissect her while she’s conscious so she can feel every single nerve being ripped apart, and then feed it to her dying corpse. Then you want to bring her towards the reconstructive clinic in Seoul, have them build her back to life just enough so that she’s still in pain, so you can do it all over again. 

But you can’t. 

“It was alright,” you responded, and dropped your luggage by the door before pulling out one of the rolling chairs to sit.

Valentina waits for you to say more. An awkward silence settled over the room. A few moments later, the CIA director cleared her throat, and returned to her own seat, and looked between you and the other member in the room.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of each other, yes?” she asked, voice dripping with honey.

Your gaze shifts, and you’re sucked into a storm of blue grey eyes. He’s scanning you, looking you up and down with caution. It’s not the same way that the others were doing out in the common area. He’s not sizing you up, trying to see what you’re made of. No– he knows you. It goes beyond just hearing stories of each other through Steve or Sam.

You’ve fought with this man before. Maybe not him right now, but a different version of him– one that he did not choose to be has crossed your path. 

You were a highly trained S.H.I.E.L.D. operative. One of the best in your line of work, and became an Avenger through some rhyme or reason that you still didn’t understand yourself. You’ve fought aliens, been on stakeouts, had snipers pointed at your head from miles away, and yet– the man sitting across from the table from you is the only person that has made you feel true, unbridled terror. 

Every once in a while, you can still feel the ache in your thigh from where his blade fully sheathed into your muscle on that bridge in DC, and dragged downwards. You had only been lucky to have maneuvered so he didn’t hit your femoral artery, or you wouldn’t be alive at this moment. 

You don’t tell Valentina any of that. You’re more than certain that the soldier in front of you has never even breathed out words of his past to anyone either. 

“I’m well aware of Congressman Barnes and his achievements both in the military and in our government,” you replied, your eyes never straying away from him and his watchful gaze.

Bucky’s eyebrows twitched at your words. You watched as his tongue poked at the inside of his cheek as the gears in his head turned over, processing if there were any double meanings behind what you had just said– if there was some kind of backhanded retort or compliment. 

“Wonderful,” Valentina hummed, and clapped her hands together. “As you both know, the reason for this meeting is to discuss our plan. Operation: Romance the Public, if you will. Do you like that? Like the name I came up with?” 

There’s a sort of gloating tone in her voice that makes you release a deep breath of air. Neither you or Bucky said a single word, but you do turn to her. You’re not amused. You don’t bother hiding it, and you revel in the way that her smile falters at the expression on your face.

Mel cleared her throat from behind Valentina, and out of the corner of your eye, you see the screen at the front of the room come to life. 

“Great. More pie charts?” you asked.

“The pie charts are wonderful,” Valentina quickly said, almost defensive. Clearly, it’s her idea to constantly add those graphs to every single meeting. 

“I’m not too sure how pie charts are supposed to tell me how Barnes and I are to be fake dating each other,” you said, leaning back in your seat. “Valentina, you’re talking to someone that was trained in espionage. I don’t need to be told how to pretend to be in love with someone.”

“Well, pardon me. I forgot that sleeping around was part of your list of expertise,” she said, smiling at you. 

You blinked at her, lips parting. Then, you smiled back at her. Sickly sweet and pretty. You leaned over the table, arms crossing over the wood as you lowered your voice. There was no need to yell. Wasting your breath on her? Unnecessary.

“I don’t have to be here,” you said softly, meeting her eyes. You saw the brief flash of panic go through her features. “Do you think I want to be an Avenger again, Fontaine? I can watch you and the rest of this team fucking dive into the pits of hell for all I care, and become the laughing stocks of operative work and the media. Hell– Sam Wilson, the nation’s new Captain America, can take up the mantle, ruin you guys, and I will watch with a smile. I think that you’re forgetting that I am doing you a favor.”

You watched as she wet her lips, and her nostrils flared at you. She swallowed thickly, clenching her jaw as she tried to sit up straighter, tried to give off the appearance that she was in control here.

“You forgot the de. It’s de Fontaine,” she whispered to you, giving you a small wink as she nodded. 

“I don’t give a shit,” you whispered back, shaking your head. 

The smile on her face slowly faded away as you maintained eye contact. You tilted your head at her, waiting for another witty response.

It never came.

You sat up, palms hitting the wooden table as you stood. You gave a nod to Mel, who looked absolutely petrified where she stood. Briefly, you felt bad for the girl. Valentina was definitely going to take out her anger on Mel, who couldn’t do anything against her. 

“Well, I’m gonna go,” you declared, and looked across the table towards the man who had been oh so silent the entire meeting. “You tell me when I’m needed– an actual mission or if we’re supposed to be seen out in public together. I’m not sitting in one of these stupid fucking conference rooms to listen to her bullshit again.”

You didn’t wait for Bucky’s confirmation. You pushed out from your chair, and reached for your bags, going back out into the hallway. If Valentina listened to at least one of your conditions when you told her that you would do this stupid fucking PR stunt, then your old room better be vacant. If not, you don’t care who’s shit is in there. 

You’re throwing it all out.

You wondered if Tony was in heaven, looking down at you, laughing his ass off. You were certain of it, actually. Him and Natasha both must be sharing a beer together, watching the show unfold in front of them. Honestly, you couldn’t blame them. The sight would be comical to you, too, if you weren’t the one actively in it.

This was the first charity gala that you attended, but one of many that Valentina threw. The reason for this? You and along with the New Avengers were attempting to raise funds to help send back to cover the costs of the damages that the fucking idiots on the team caused in the latest mission in Brazil.

You wished you could say that you weren’t part of that mission, but your name was unfortunately slapped onto it like a brand on your skin. 

You thought you knew what awful teamwork looked like. After all, you had been there to see the beginning stages of the original Avengers. You watched as Steve and Tony fought chest to chest in some homo-erotic tension that made you want to rip both of their heads off at the time. You watched the Hulk throw Thor into a compression tank, and then have to be chased down by Natasha. 

Hell, even after you guys finally started to get along with each other, you guys were still on each others’ asses. Debriefs consisted of arguments demanding to know who was compromised, who strayed a toe away from the original plan, and who needed to pull their weight. At the end of the day, you called it accountability. 

Yeah... You wanted to go back. 

You had never been part of a more disorganized team in your life. The original Avengers were dysfunctional? No. You guys at least knew each other’s skillset. You could only watch in pure exhaustion as Ava tried phasing through buildings with John following her, demanding for her to take him with her, only to be ignored. If it weren’t for that serum in his veins, you were certain that he should’ve gotten at least three concussions with how many times Ava told him that she would bring him through a building, only to change her mind right before. 

At the same time, Yelena was shouting for her father to stop the theatrics with the locals before giving up completely. You didn’t have too much to say about Yelena– watching her fight made your chest hurt actually. She fought like Natasha did. You wondered briefly if it was because she was trained in the same place, or if it was because of their bond together. Either way, you couldn’t bring yourself to pick her apart too much.

Bucky stopped playing leader the second shit went to the fan. One second, he was giving orders, making sure everyone was aware of their positions, and next thing you knew it? You watched as he ripped out his earpiece and shoved it into his pocket because he couldn’t stand the sound of Yelena and John arguing over the frequencies. 

Meanwhile, Bob was in the jet, keeping the AC running so you guys would be hit with some cool air after being stuck out in the sweltering heat. You still didn’t understand why you even took him to the missions when he didn’t do anything. Yelena swore that it was for field experience. That it was good for him to watch. He couldn’t watch jack shit from the forest that you dropped him off at though. 

Worst of all, the damage done to the country could have been avoided. It was all so easily avoidable. None of the explosions or damage needed to happen. Yes, the original Avengers blew shit up– did you guys ever mean to? Never. You watched Wanda cry in her room for days after messing up after a mission, yet Alexei and John were chuckling about how big the cloud of smoke was in the air. 

Now, it was time for your first official public appearance with Bucky. Dressed to the absolute tens– him in some both of you in matching Versace suits and gowns. God damn it, and he couldn’t even pretend to look you in the eyes. He just needed to stare at the space between your forehead, and that would be good enough for the cameras. 

“Did you not receive any media training as a Congressman?” you asked through a smile, sticking yourself closer to Bucky as the cameras flashed at the two of you. 

“I received media training,” he grunted, low, and under his breath as his hand twitched around your waist, but still barely present. His fingers were ghosting, as if he was afraid to touch you. “Media training didn’t include fake dating.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you smoothly took his hand in yours, pulling it tighter to your body. You felt him stiffen beside you, and you wanted to kill him. You wanted to kill everyone actually, but that wasn’t an option here. 

Soon, you got the thumbs up from Mel, letting you know that there were more than enough photos taken of you and Bucky. You held in your breath of relief for just a few more minutes as you slipped your hand into his, effectively leading Bucky into the gala and away from the press. 

You continued to hold hands, only the sound of your heels clicking against the marble floor being the noise between the two of you. It makes you cringe.

When you’re far enough away, ducking into the sanctuary of a hallway, you both release each other. Bucky creates some distance between the two of you. The action shouldn’t bother you, but it does. You’re still wired up from the failure of a mission that you had to endure– the mission that the others deemed was good enough because they destroyed less than they thought they would.

“I need you to pretend that you’re in love with me, or this shit is not gonna work, Barnes,” you said, closing your eyes as you attempt to regain part of your sanity. You lean back towards a wall, resting your head against it. 

“It's a little difficult when I’m being suffocated in my suit,” he muttered, messing with his cufflinks. 

“You look fine,” you sighed. “At least you’re fully covered. I’m one wrong move from showing off my chest to the entirety of New York. But seriously– get your shit together otherwise the media will think I’m holding you at gunpoint.”

“This wasn’t my plan, if you forgot. Not my decision to do this for publicity,” he said, eyebrows furrowed. “If I had it my way, I wouldn’t be doing any of this shit for the media.”

“Obviously. If it was, then you wouldn’t be such a mess out there! Again, I can’t do my job if you’re going to be a statue. I thought you were supposed to be a charmer. Some smooth guy that knew how to flirt. Can you channel that guy out for me?”

“Who the hell said all that?”

“Steve did.”

Bucky blinked at you, surprised for a second. “Steve said that? You– how close were you to Steve?”

“Close enough,” you waved off, trying to avoid the conversation.

Something about the way he’s looking at you is letting you know that he won’t let this go any time soon. A deep sigh escapes your throat as you look at him. 

“Steve talked about you a lot,” you huffed, running your hand through your hair. “Said you were a ladies’ man. So I thought this whole operation was going to be easy, but I guess Steve had no idea what he was talking about because this is the worst undercover mission that I’ve ever had the displeasure of doing.”

The surprise on his face melts away into utter irritation. A frown finds its way onto his face, and his head cocks just slightly. 

“Why are you even here?”

“If you forgot, the gala is because your team blew up half of the fuckin’ city, babe,” you replied, giving him a bitter smile.

“That’s not what I’m– babe?” he cut himself off, an incredulous look on his face as he stared at you in disbelief. 

“You’re my boyfriend, aren’t you?” you asked sarcastically, tilting your head at him.

There’s five seconds of silence. You wondered if there’s something that short circuited in his brain because he’s frozen in place, staring at you like you’ve grown two heads. Finally, he moves. He dragged a hand down his face, taking a deep breath as he attempted to calm himself down.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he said, his jaw clenched tight. 

You met his gaze. It’s accusatory. Suspicious. The same way that he looked at you in the conference room, and the same way that he looked at you in the jet when you and the rest of the team were on your way to Brazil. He’d been quietly trying to figure you out this entire time. 

“Why I’m here is none of your concern,” you dismissed, tearing your eyes away from his. “All you need to know is that I’m trying to help you, so it would be really great if you cooperated with me.”

“That’s the part I don’t understand,” he said, a deep sigh escaping his chest. “You said it yourself– you don’t want to be an Avenger again. You’ve been in hiding for years, since right before the previous Avengers broke up. Why are you back?”

You stared off into the side, biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood. You turned to him, scanning his face again. 

Truthfully, you can’t blame him. You may hate this team, hate that fucking tower, but this is his. There’s a history behind him, and the rest of those fools that he calls his teammates, and a dynamic that you can’t squeeze yourself into even if Valentina labels you as a New Avenger. 

Moreover, you have no idea what was said about you in private. You don’t know what Steve or Sam told Bucky about you– if they even talked about you at all once you left. You don’t know what happened to any of your old friends aside from the media coverage, aside from the mission reports that you were able to dig up by hacking into a series of encrypted, locked files before you got caught by being too sloppy, too emotional one day. It was how Valentina located you, and when she realized who you were, she didn’t arrest you. Asked you to join her shadow operatives. 

You had nothing better to do, so you agreed. 

But now?

A slow, shaky breath exits your chest. 

“You do your job, Barnes. I’ll do mine,” you told him, meeting his eyes once more. “Let’s try not to have anymore lovers quarrels, babe.”

You pushed off the wall, and brushed past him, going towards the heart of the gala where the others are already mingling with investors, sponsors– anyone to give some money. 

You put on your best smile, and you join the fray. 

Whether you like it or not, this is your team now, too. Your name is attached, and you were part of a mission that disrupted hundreds, if not thousands of lives. So, you chat. You talk with people that ask about what you’ve been doing the last few years. You smoothly evade any and all questions about where you were when the Accords were being signed all those years ago, and you managed to deflect any mentions of the final battle with Thanos. 

Easy talk, easy words. Lies slip in and out of your mouth to fill in the gap in your resume, words that you’ve come up with to properly fool all these people around you. You watch as they eat up every single syllable that comes out of your mouth, and you can feel your pockets grow heavier with each and every smile you give. 

It doesn’t ease the weight on your heart.

When you give yourself a break, you steal a flute of champagne from a server’s tray as you make your way to the balcony for some fresh air. You leaned your elbows against the concrete railing, staring out into the sky before you. The summer air is blankets over you, though it does little to warm you in the gown that Valentina shoved you in for the night. 

“You make it look so easy.”

You looked over your shoulder, finding Yelena coming to join your side with her own glass of alcohol. She offered you a smile, pressing her back against the railing as she settled beside you. 

“What’s easy?” you asked, raising your eyebrows at her.

“The mission. The… talking to the people inside the gala. The interactions, all of it,” she shrugged. “Being an Avenger.”

“Your sister is the one who made being an Avenger easy,” you said, letting out a scoff of a laugh as you shake your head at her. 

A small, sad smile tugs onto her lips as she turns to look at you. She studies you for a few moments, then lowers her eyes. “Did you know her? Know her… well, I mean,” Yelena asked, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

“Yeah,” you nodded to her, returning her smile. “I did.”

Silence carefully settles, and the two of you drink slowly. You keep your gaze out towards the balcony, while Yelena watches your six, focused on the party going on through the doors. When her glass is empty, she releases a breath.

“Barnes is horrible,” she said, making your eyebrows shoot to your hairline. “I’m also trained in espionage. I get it– he fucking sucks. I saw him pose for photos.”

You let out another laugh, shaking your head at her words. “God. We’re not going to convince anyone if he keeps it up. I thought he was raised in the forties. Chivalry central.”

“He’s old,” Yelena shrugged. “Maybe he just needs a reminder on how to flirt.”

You made a face at her, and frowned. “There’s no need for us to actually flirt, Yelena. It’s all fake, remember?”

“Maybe it needs to be real for him.”

The media adores you and Bucky for some weird reason. 

Or rather, it’s you they adore. 

When one of the original Avengers returns to New York to fight the hard battles again, it’s like a saving grace, you supposed. The memes turned into soliloquies and love letters. People began to take the New Avengers seriously overnight after the charity gala, but it’s also due to your own handiwork from the appearance that you had at the White House after the gala. 

You've gone to meet with the government– to meet with Captain America. It was to congratulate you, to welcome you back into the line of work. Since the original heroes were gone, America had become real sentimental about their fanfare with making sure everyone knew who they relied on now. 

Cameras are all in the two of your faces as you stare down Sam Wilson. You pretend not to feel pain. You pretend you don’t miss him. You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when his smile doesn’t meet his eyes when you shake his hand.

“So… You and Buck, huh?” he asked you, and it was loud enough for some of the cameras to pick up. 

“Yeah. Me and Bucky. We got real close,” you said, smiling at Sam. 

“When did that happen?” he asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice. 

“Steve introduced us,” you replied, a fond look in your eyes as you spoke. You almost looked dreamy. 

Sam couldn’t say a damn thing against you– not when it meant having to discredit the previous Captain America. And the media loved it. They loved the story that Bucky’s best friend, the last leader of the Avengers, had created the couple between the New Avengers. It was almost a classic love story.

You and the rest of the team continued to watch your interviews at the White House. Watched as you spoke so highly of your new team, spoke of the plans that you were aware of, how you would be allocating the funds in Brazil to several different areas of need to ensure that each impacted site would be taken care of. 

You were heavily leaned into the fact that none of this could be done without the help of Bucky, who regretfully could not have made the appearance to the White House as he was currently out on the field doing exactly as you were saying at that moment. You were simply being the spokesperson as you were the most familiar face to the people at this time. 

“Reliability creates credibility,” Valentina said, a smirk on her face as she paused the clips. 

“What the hell does that even mean?” Ava sighed deeply. 

“It means that the plan is working– she is our most reliable figure on the team, so everyone will take what she says and worship the ground she walks on. It’s the original Avenger effect! Show them the engagement logs,” Valentina sighed, and snapped her fingers at Mel.

Immediately, a new presentation was being brought up to the screen. You all watched as bar graphs were brought to life, showing the positive incline of the last few months of how the media was buzzing about the team.

Since you had been rumored to be returning back to hero work, there had been some better talks about the team. Since you were spotted working in Brazil, right next to Bucky’s side the entire time, the whispers elevated to a decent chatter. After the gala, a storm had kicked up. Now with the White House appearance, and the construction in Brazil, this was the best interaction that the team had been receiving online since they saved New York from the Void. 

“This is a great start,” Valentina said, then turned to look at you, then to Bucky. “But we need more from the two of you. More love story.” 

Both you and Bucky slumped in your seats. You watched as his eyebrows pinched together, then followed the way he took his vibranium hand and dragged it down around the scruff of his mouth. 

You’re not really sure what was talked about the remainder of the meeting. You’re trying to weigh the pros and cons of continuing this facade with Bucky. Is it really worth it, at the end of the day? Truthfully, the paycheck Valentina is giving you weekly is nice. Nicer than what she was giving you when you were just doing the shadow work when you completed her dirty work, but still. 

Guilt continued to build within you. You had locked eyes with a woman outside of the White House, when you were walking out– and she thanked you. Something in you made you stop. You asked her what for. She said you and the Avengers saved her, many, many years ago– and that she’s happy that you’re alive. That one of the originals is back at the frontlines, leading the new generation of heroes. 

She told you what a relief it was for you to return, and it’s nice that you can find love with one of these new heroes amongst the craziness of your line of work– that it must be nice to have someone close to lean on. 

You only gave her a tight smile, and told her to continue to stay safe.

You leave the conference room the same time everyone else does, when you see them get up from their seats. You don’t meet Bucky’s eyes, even though you know they’re on you. He’s still watching you. He’s still trying to figure out why you’re here. What your purpose is.

You don’t really know what you’re doing either.

Either way, you grab your laptop from your room that night. You’re showered, in pajamas, and you’re over everything. You know where Bucky’s room is– down the hall and near the fire exit. It’s the quickest way to escape if there’s ever an issue within the tower. Part of you knows that he chose this side of the tower because Steve had his room in this wing, too.

Bucky’s door cracked open after exactly five seconds of you waiting outside. You don’t allow him to let you linger in the hallway– you shoved your way through, crossing the threshold of his room.

“What the hell are you doing?” 

“Bonding with my boyfriend,” you replied, and sat down on the edge of his bed as if you owned the space. Your legs are crossed under you as you flip your laptop open, and begin to pull up your playlists.

There’s nearly nothing in his room. Nothing memorable or personal. It’s almost like he’s a guest here. The only splash of color is his bedsheets, which are gray, and the journal on his nightstand that you know isn’t his. It’s Steve’s. 

“Again– what are you doing?” Bucky asked, more exasperated this time than the last.

You glanced up at him, giving him a smile. He’s in a tank top– and his dog tags are chest. You can faintly see the scars on his shoulder peeking out from the straps, connecting with the seam of his metal arm. He’s standing there, arms crossed over his chest, with a frown on his face.

“Sit,” you said, patting the space on the bed beside you. “Let’s listen to music together.”

His frown only deepens. You continued to stare at him, expectant and waiting. You’re not leaving his room until he gives in to you. 

And he does. 

He shuts the door to his bedroom, and the bed dips beside you as he takes a seat, but he’s rigid– just like he was when he had to take photos beside you on the steps of the museum for the gala. He’s not even touching you, and he’s stressed out. 

“Why are we listening to music?” he grunted.

“You ask so many questions, baby,” you clicked your tongue at him as you clicked onto one of your playlists affectionately labeled Nostalgic Stimulation. “Was that also part of your media training?”

Music filled in the empty space of the room, and you turned up the volume just a little bit before placing your laptop in between the two of you. Bucky’s eyes land on your screen, taking in the different song titles as you fall backwards, closing your eyes as you rest on his bed.

“I know these songs,” he muttered. “They’re in Steve’s notebook.”

“They better be. I recommended half of them to him,” you hummed. Your eyes were still shut, but you knew his gaze had shifted to rest on the side of your face where you laid. “You listen to this kinda music, too?”

“Not really,” he sighed. 

“No?” you asked, finally looking at him.

Bucky had a sheepish expression on his face. Like he was almost ashamed of admitting it. He went back to looking at the songs on your laptop, reaching to touch the scrollpad– going through each of the song titles. 

“They’re… I mean the songs are good, but they’re not my style,” he muttered. “I gave it a chance.”

“What’s the issue with it?” you frowned at him. “These are classics, lover boy. Staples in history, if you will.”

“Classics,” he repeated with a scoff. “Sweetheart, you’re talking to someone that’s older than these songs. These are not classics to me. Besides, you didn’t strike me as someone that listened to classics, either.”

Your lips parted, and you blinked. Fine. He got you there.

“Well, part of the reason I enjoy these songs so much was because we used to play them all the time,” you shrugged, moving to sit back up. “All of these songs in this playlist specifically just remind me of good times.”

“We? Who’s we?”

“The team,” you answered, meeting his eyes. You saw him pause for a second, his breath catching in his throat. “Sometimes, we would wake up to Tony listening to these songs in the lab. Other times these songs would be in the gym while Steve and Natasha were sparring. I would play them while I was cooking in the kitchen. We would listen to them together to unwind after a longer mission in the jet on the way home… So yeah. Good times.”

You’re grateful that you’ve already turned the music on to fill in the silence. Bucky doesn’t answer you for a while, and you don’t elaborate your words to him. Yet, you two still stared at each other. 

The more that you talk, the more that you reveal about yourself, the more he relaxes. It seems Yelena’s words were right. He needs to believe that it’s real. That you’re real. You’re trying to convince yourself all at the same time that this is real, too. 

“What about the other part?” Bucky asked.

You shrugged, and gave him a sad smile. “I’m lonely.”

Since that night, you continued to come to Bucky’s room as often as you could. Once the rest of the tower falls asleep, you’re making your way down the halls with your laptop and phone. You no longer knock, and Bucky doesn’t expect you to do so anymore. You just push your way through, shut the door behind you, and drop onto his bed.

Bucky doesn’t even have the energy in him to look exhausted at your appearances. You don’t know if it’s because you admitted to him that you’re lonely, or if it’s because he relates to it. Deep down, you’re starting to think he enjoys your company, with how he lets you do whatever you want. You don’t want to admit it, but you’ve begun to look forward to your nightly escapades with him, too. 

You pretend that it’s just a stepping stone for the mission. That it’s only for the mission– to make Bucky more comfortable with you, but deep down, something is shifting. You’re changing, too. You don’t find so much fault in every corner of the tower. You try to pretend that the time you spend in Bucky’s room isn’t extending longer and longer every night.

You’ve turned his room into a rock concert venue. You taught him about raves, and how young folk these days can and will drug themselves on purpose for maximum fun. Bucky looked mildly horrified at the thought, and then you turned on some EDM music. The poor soldier couldn’t wrap his head around the various synthesized tracks before he asked you to turn it off. It was the only time he asked you to change the music, so you indulged in his request. 

When you ran out of music to talk about, you started to bring other things to his room. Like alcohol. 

“You know I can’t get drunk, right?” he asked, eyeing the several bags in your hand.

“Which makes this so much more fun,” you smiled at him as you started unloading the items onto his desk. “I’m making you my guinea pig.”

“Your guinea pig?” he repeated, eyebrows furrowing.

“Maybe bad wording choice given your background as an experiment, but indulge me a bit here, okay?”

You watched as he picked up some of the other items that you brought and sighed deeply. You met his eyes, and watched as he simply could not fight back against you. He just sat back down on his bed, defeated.

“Have you ever had soju and yakult before?” you asked, already opening up the probiotic drink.

“What the hell is a yakult?” he asked, slightly exasperated.

“Oh, you’ll love this, babe.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

But, he did love it. In fact, it was his favorite drink of the night. It was yours, too. You started off on the easier side of alcohol before you had shifted into deeper territory. You were having a blast, mixing several different things and watching his reaction. Some of them had him looking pleasantly surprised. Others made him demand for you to give him another shot of soju. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to be mixing light and dark alcohol in one night, sweetheart,” Bucky told you with a raised eyebrow as he took a slow pull on his whiskey. 

You groaned at his words. “You are a buzzkill. Let a girl do what she wants.”

“It’s my room that you’re going to throw up in.”

“Just toss me into the hallway if I start going green,” you muttered, pouring yourself another glass. You’d long stopped mixing anything. You two were just drinking at this point. After throwing back your alcohol, you stared at him, and he was already looking at you. You frowned. “I wonder if you can get alcohol poisoning.”

“No, doll. I can’t get sick,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “You on the other hand–”

“I’m not even drunk.”

“You’re slurring your words.”

“I am not.”

“Debatable,” he scoffed.

He was right. You passed out in his room that night, and woke up tucked into his sheets. You weren’t anywhere near his bed last time you remembered anything. You were sitting at his desk, still chatting with him. You recalled giggling with him, drunk off your mind, him smiling at you while you talked about things that you couldn’t recall. 

Now, the entire room was cleaned up. The mixers and alcohol were back in the bag that you had brought, and Bucky was sitting at the desk. He was also asleep, chin tucked to his chest, arms crossed. 

Your heart slightly ached at the sight.

Bucky refused to tell you what you said to him that night. At the very least, he promised to you that you didn’t embarrass yourself. You decided to swear off alcohol for the time being. You started bringing your laptop back to his room, and made him sit beside you at the head of the bed.

“This movie fucking sucks,” Bucky muttered beside you, trying to stay quiet like you were in a movie theatre despite the fact it was just the two of you and you’d seen this movie hundreds of times before. 

“It’s the pinnacle of cinema, babe,” you whispered back. “Are you really Steve’s best friend? He loves this movie.”

“Steve has questionable tastes. Like being your friend,” he grunted.

Your response was to toss a popcorn kernel directly into his face. Bucky doesn’t even attempt to dodge it. He allowed the buttery thing to smack his cheek, then drop onto his bed, leaving a grease stain onto his sheets. He sighed, shaking his head before picking it up, and throwing it into the garbage can in the corner of his room. 

“The cinematography is all over the place,” Bucky continued. “How can you say this is the pinnacle of cinema? Are we not in the modern world–”

You press the space bar on your laptop, and angle your head to look at him. There’s a smile on his face. He’s fucking messing with you– teasing you. He meets your eyes, and his grin only grows wider. 

“You waited until we were more than halfway through the movie to tell me that you hated it?” you asked.

“I had to make sure that I really did hate it,” he shrugged.

You rolled your eyes at him, “You’re awful.”

“And yet, you still keep coming to my room every night like you own this place.”

“What can I say? I’m just visiting my boyfriend every night, like a dutiful girlfriend,” you huffed, pulling the device back onto your lap to find a different movie to watch with him.

Bucky snorts beside you, shaking his head. “Right. Because that’s what we are.”

“That’s what the world thinks,” you hummed, scrolling through the different options. Nothing looks appealing to you, and if Bucky thinks the movie that you two were just watching was bad then shit– everything you’re gonna choose is going to be bad. 

“Media engagement has been more positive,” he said, almost a bit quieter. 

“It’s because you started touching me like you actually like me during press interviews,” you said, closing your laptop. You gave up. “We’re really selling Val’s publicity stunt. Gotta give it to her– America does love love.”

A small laugh escaped his chest. “It’s more you than me doing the work.”

“You’re doing just fine, Bucky. I’m sure it was difficult for you to act like you love me when you had no idea who I was,” you sighed. 

“No– even now… You coming every night. It was for the mission, right? So I could get to know you. Be more comfortable with you,” Bucky said. “I know you don’t want to be here. I still don’t get why you’re here, but… I’m glad that you are.”

You can’t meet his eyes. 

The shame that you’re feeling is threatening to crawl back up your throat. The past few weeks, you managed to shove it all down. You had forgotten about it. Pretended it didn’t exist. Right now, it’s hard to ignore.

You take in a slow, steady breath.

“You never told me what music you like,” you said, and lifted the screen of your laptop. “It’s your turn to share some information about you with me.”

You’re about to hand over the device to him so he could search it up, but he gets out of bed. You immediately straightened, confused. Briefly, you wondered if you’d offended him. If that was somehow a taboo topic for him, but no. It wasn’t.

Bucky went to his closet, pulling out a vintage record player. He gently set it down on his desk, then went back to the closet to pull out another item– a box full of vinyls. 

“I like forties music,” he told you, a small smile on his face as he started fingering through the different records. 

Slowly, you got out of bed, too. You join him by his side, looking over his shoulder at the various different tracks. They’re worn around the edges, the colors faded. They looked more than second hand, and were very well loved throughout the years.

“How long did it take you to get all of these?”

“A while,” he admitted with a shrug. “Many trips to the thrift stores. I learned what FaceBook Marketplace was, too.”

“Steve said vinyls weren’t a thing yet in the early forties,” you said. “I tried teasing him one day about it, and he got real defensive.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, and pulled out a Louis Armstrong record. “They weren’t… but I like ‘em. They give me that same form of nostalgic stimulation that you crave, too.”

You watched as he loaded the track, and placed the needle onto the record. Slowly, the music filled your ears. You turned to him, seeing a fond smile on his face as he listened to the song play. 

“Is your nostalgia from before the wars?”

“Yeah… The dance halls,” he nodded, looking down at his feet briefly. “I was quite the dancer back then. Charmed a lot of women, went on plenty of dates… The music would play and I would be unstoppable, really.”

“And now, you tense up now when you have to give me a hug in front of a camera,” you teased lightly. “Do I need to put Sinatra in your earpiece when we go through our interviews?”

“Honestly? It might help,” he chuckled, meeting your eyes.

You watched him for just a few moments. There’s something different about him right now. Maybe it’s the music. It’s unlike what you normally listen to so it’s affecting you, but he looks different. You couldn’t help but smile back at him, not when the smile he has is so genuine. So real. 

“Pretend we’re in the forties right now,” you told him, watching his eyebrows furrow slightly in surprise. “Let’s dance, Sarge.”

“You can dance?”

“Not in the same way you can, but I’m a fast learner,” you grinned, holding your hand out to him.

Bucky’s eyes fall to your palm, and his smile only grows softer. You hate the way that your heart races at the sight. Gently pushed your hand away, before extending out his own. “That’s backwards, doll. I’m supposed to be asking you for the dance.”

“My apologies,” you laughed, sliding your hand into his.

He stepped in closer to you, his other hand moving to rest around the small of your back. You circled your arm around his, hooking your hand over his shoulder before he began to lead you in a gentle sway of the beat.

“Was there always such a respectful distance between dance partners in the forties?” you whispered to him, looking in between your bodies at the space. 

A sharp laugh tumbled out from him, but he pulled you in even closer until your chests were touching– until even air can’t pass through. When you looked up at him, you found he’s already watching you, a smile so wide on his face that there are slight crinkles around his eyes.

The air gets stuck in your throat, and you have to remind yourself to continue to breathe.

“Is that better for you?” he whispered back.

“Much.”

Bucky only shakes his head, in mock disbelief, but you two continue to sway along to the music. You could understand why there were so many girls after him back then, if this was how he danced with them. He’s humming along to the song, and you can feel his heartbeat from how close you are to him. 

It thumps against your own chest, slow and comforting. It’s gentle, and it makes your own chest hurt from the sheer kindness it emits. Bucky’s heart is just like his steps, and you know he’s taking this dance even slower than it needs to be because you said that you didn’t know how to. He’s dancing in half the time of the song’s tempo. 

You can’t help yourself. You rest your head on his shoulder, a slow breath escaping your nostrils as you close your eyes. Bucky doesn’t stop humming. His grip on your waist tightens just a bit more, holding you impossibly closer to him. 

You don’t want the music to end. You don’t want to pull away from him, but the night is getting late, and you should head off to your own room for the night. You’ll be back tomorrow. Maybe you could convince him to pull out the vinyls again. He has a lot that you could go through. You could dance more another night.

It’s what you tell yourself as the needle hits the end of the record, and automatically lifts to avoid damaging the record. His humming has stopped, your swaying has come to a halt, and silence fills the air, but Bucky’s hold on you doesn’t loosen. 

“I should go,” you murmured to him, but you don’t detach yourself from him either. Your head remained on his shoulder, resting in the crook of his neck like it's your space to occupy. 

“Stay.”

You shouldn’t. 

You know you’re not here in the Watchtower for the right reasons– you’re not spending time with Bucky for the right reasons, and you know Bucky is suspicious of you. He has every right to be, but somewhere along the way– he decided he doesn’t care about those suspicions anymore. He’s placed his trust in you, but you haven’t told him the truth about anything.

Yet, you’re still undressing him with the same amount of vigor as he has when he’s pulling your own clothes off. Your laptop gets accidentally bounced off the bed when your bodies collide, and you both are momentarily alarmed at the sound of the shatter.

“Did you have anything important on that?” he whispered, hot breaths mingling with your own as he hovered about you.

“You really think I keep important Avenger level secrets on a fucking Mac laptop, Bucky?” you whispered back, eyebrows furrowed.

“I like it when you say my name.” 

“God, you’re so lame.”

The smile he gave you in return for your sass is devastating. Then, he’s lowering himself back down onto you, mouth catching yours before he’s lifting you back properly up the bed to rest comfortably against the pillows. 

Bucky’s body is slotted so perfectly against yours, blanketing yours in a warmth that you hadn’t felt in a long time. His hands are all over you, as if he’s trying to map you out, memorize you by touch as he’s too busy enjoying your kiss with his eyes closed. 

You felt his fingers pause at the scar on your thigh. He pulled away from the kiss, eyes zeroed in on it. You watched, breathless, as his fingers ghosted along the raised skin.

"Sorry about this," he murmured, meeting your gaze again.

Guilt. There was guilt in his eyes. Regret. Pain and brief darkness threatening to creep up onto him. You couldn't have that, not right now- not when you were both naked, and you were under him.

"It didn't even hurt," you told him, tugging him back down to you, capturing his lips once more. "But I won't forgive you if you look at me like that again."

"Yes, ma'am," he whispered against your lips, as a small laugh falls from his lips- one that makes your chest soar. Yes. That is what you want from him. Not the sadness or the hurt. His hands are back on you, exploring once more.

“Bucky…” you sighed against his mouth as his fingers danced along your stomach, threatening you with a promise to go lower. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, breaking away from your lips. “I got you, doll.”

You can’t help but dig your nails into his shoulders when his fingers slide up and down your folds, feeling you out. A low, contented moan escaped from his throat and he lifted himself off your body slightly to look between your legs– to see the glistening state between them.

Bucky watched as his fingers dipped within you, watched as your puffy lips split open for him, watched as your mouth fell open in a breathy moan as he slowly began to massage you from within. 

“You’re soft all over, sweetheart,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. 

You didn’t have a response for him, not when he added a second finger into the mix. His gaze was intense, so fixated on watching your body respond for him like he didn’t want to miss a single twitch or tremble in your muscles. 

Bucky didn’t stop even though you could see his own member, hard and leaking against his stomach– begging to be touched. No, he was more focused on you– wanting you to fall apart from his touch, from just his fingers alone.

You were more than happy to oblige if it meant that you could finally get all of him inside of you.

“Bucky, hurry,” you murmured, though you were still panting, still twitching from your high. His fingers were still inside of you, still moving. “Bucky, I need you.”

“You’re so impatient,” he said, clicking his tongue in mock disapproval when you tugged on his wrist, trying to get him to shift away. 

“Acting like you don’t want me, either,” you huffed, a little breathless as he began to line himself up with you. 

“Baby, you don’t know how badly I’ve wanted you,” he chuckled, and pushed in. 

You’re both silent for a few moments, mouths open in noiseless moans as you both take the time to adjust to the feel of each other. His forehead rested against yours as he took a moment to just let everything sink in. His hands squeezed at the curve of your waist, and a shaky breath escaped his lips.

“Jesus,” he muttered, then pressed his lips against yours.

You can only let out a small giggle in response– one that he returns right back. Your arms wrapped around his neck, holding him against you as his hips started to move. Slowly at first, still getting used to you, then gradually picking up speed.

Soft chuckles and giggles are being passed between your lips in the midst of breathy moans.

You ran your hands over his body– from the hollow of his throat, down his chest, to his abdomen, and resting on his hips. You just wanted to feel every single ridge and contour of him, wanted to feel the way his muscles moved and contracted as he shifted within you– wanted to feel him as deeply as he was feeling you.

You watched as he took one of your hands, laced his fingers with yours, and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. All the while, his eyes were locked onto yours while his hips continued to rock deeply into yours. 

“So perfect, so, so pretty,” he muttered to you, making a shiver run down your body as he moaned out your name next.

He was the pretty one, but with the way that he was looking at you– the way that he was touching you? You couldn’t help but believe him.

Bucky held you in his arms like you were something to worship, something to love. You meet his eyes more than once, and they’re soft. Not hungry or desperate. They’re as gentle as his heart is kind, and you fall apart under his gaze. Bucky follows you right afterwards, whispering your name like a prayer.

He holds you tight that night. Tells you to stay again, in his bed. With him.

You don’t need much convincing.

You don’t know why you’re here, in this secluded corner of a coffee shop. The worst spot to meet up, in your opinion. You would’ve chosen the Watchtower. It was private, at the very least, but no. Sam wanted to meet in public. Why? You have no fucking clue.

Then again, that’s the general theme of your life for the past three and a half months. You don’t know why you came back to New York. You’re not sure why you went on those missions. There’s no clear reasoning on why you went through every single interview and public appearance that Valentina made you do for the sake of Operation: Romance the Public. 

Well, that’s all a lie. You have a reason. You know exactly why you’re here. 

Either way, you shouldn’t be sitting across from Sam with Bucky beside you, listening to the two of them argue about who should have the rights to the Avengers. Bucky asked you to come with him. Said it might be easier to convince Sam, to make the talk go easier since you know Sam, since you fought beside Sam as an Avenger. 

You tried talking your way out of it. Said it wasn’t a good idea. Bucky gave you one look and you were a goner.

“You’re operating as a government backed team– what aren’t you understanding? You’re doing the exact same thing that we fought against!” Sam hissed, trying to keep his voice low. 

“Do you think this is what I wanted? I was trying to take Val from her position,” Bucky replied, his voice just as hushed. “I didn’t expect for all of this to happen either!”

“You know, I get that– I understand that, Buck, I really do– but the name? The title? You know better than anyone how hard I have to fight to try to be worthy of my name and yet you can just waltz in here with a bunch of criminals–”

“The original Avengers were all criminals, too,” you cut in, and both men looked over at you. You met Sam’s eyes. “In case you forgot. We were criminals, too.”

“Don’t fucking start with me,” he said, pointing a finger at you. “Because I will not stop once I do.”

“Sam,” Bucky quickly said, trying to get his attention again. “I can’t change what happened. Please. I don’t know what you want me to do. I’m just trying to do what I can here.”

“By doing what? Faking to the world that you and little Ms. Perfect Avenger is in a loving relationship?” he asked with a scoff, leaning back into his seat. He’s still staring at you, jaw clenched tightly as he takes in a sharp, deep breath. “You left us. You left me and Steve when we needed you. You didn’t even fight with us. You dropped off the face of the fucking Earth, and now what? You’re back here for some fame? You’re so full of shit, you know that?”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not here for fame, Sam. I wouldn’t need to join the Avengers again if that’s what I needed.”

“You are so full of shit!”

“Sam. Cool it,” Bucky warned.

“Why are you defending her? She wasn’t even there for you when shit went down the fucking drain!” Sam exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “Last time you guys met, you tried to fucking kill her, and vice versa!”

You dragged a hand down your face, irritation building into your chest as you listened to him talk. “Okay, clearly, this isn’t working. This civil conversation that you called us out here for? Over with, Wilson. I’m leaving. I’ll see you back at the tower, Bucky.”

“If it’s not about the fame, then what is it about?” Sam asked you. You met Sam’s eyes. He was challenging you. “You should’ve chosen a side. Because we got back together in the end like we always believed we would… and you were nowhere to be found—“

“You watch your fucking mouth,” you cut him off. Your body bristled, your heartbeat spiked. 

“Am I wrong?” he dared. “You’re a coward. You were back then, and you still are. All you know how to do is run.”

“That’s enough, Sam,” Bucky warned, trying to keep his voice even.

Sam wasn’t done yet. He kept his eyes locked in on yours, and you couldn’t even tear your gaze away from his. Your chest felt tight. Your breathing was getting restricted. You watched as he took in a slow, intentional breath as he calmed down, just a little bit. 

“You left us,” Sam said, nodding at you. “You were so afraid to lose half of the team back then, half of any of us back then… You didn’t even realize that you would end up losing all of us in the process.”

The chair clattered behind you as you pushed away from the table, and the rest of the coffee shop fell silent, looking into the direction of your table. You didn’t care. 

You were already out the door, and halfway down the street. Sam was right. All you did was run, after all. 

You dodged and weaved through the crowd of civilians, desperately trying to get away as fast as you could. You didn’t know where you were going. You just needed to leave— leave New York. Leave the country. Leave the Avengers again. Go back into hiding. 

Your lungs are burning within your body by the time you turn into an alleyway. Your legs can’t hold your weight anymore, and your back slides against the concrete wall as you bury your face into your hands. You’re desperate for air. Desperate for a release. Something to make it all stop hurting.

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart. I know Sam said that all you do is run, but that was like… a mile in five minutes.”

Your hands are being gently pried away from your face, and Bucky is on a knee in front of you, also slightly out of breath– but not for the same reason that you are. 

“Why did you follow me?” you whispered. 

“Couldn’t just let you run out like that–”

“I’m done,” you interjected, shaking your head. “I can’t do this anymore. The fake– the PR shit. The fucking team– us. I can’t do this.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed in mild confusion as he looked at you. You tear your wrists away from him, running your hands through your hair and squeezing at the roots. You’re going insane.

“What do you mean?” he muttered. “This– I get that it’s publicity and this is… a media stunt, but… the team– you and I– none of that is fake.”

“All of it is fucking fake, Bucky!” you shouted at him, releasing your hair. You have to close your eyes, and keep them shut tight. Otherwise, you’re going to be stuck looking at Bucky’s face, seeing the hurt that’s so clearly evident on his features. You can’t stand to look at it, when you know that you’ve caused it.

“I don’t get what you’re saying right now, doll,” he muttered, reaching for your hand again, and you want to cry. He shouldn’t be this nice to you. You don’t get why he’s being so patient with you.

“Bucky, I don’t want to be here,” you stressed, attempting to take your hand away from him. He only tightens his grip on you– interlaces your fingers together. “You know it, I know it– Sam fucking knows it!”

“Look at me when you’re talking.” It’s not a demand. It’s said as a request. He squeezes your hand, and then your name comes from his lips. Gentle. Soft. Almost reverent. “Please.”

A shaky breath exits your lungs, but you find the courage to look him in the eyes. And he offers you a small smile. It only makes you want to scream all the more. You stared at him, searching for the anger, the suspicion. There’s none of that. You don’t understand.

“Bucky… I should’ve chosen a side,” you whispered to him, heart hammering in your chest. “I lost everyone. I lost everything. I’m only here because Steve asked me to be. I fucked up– and I found out he wasn’t dead like Tony, like Natasha– so I searched for him. Found him retired in that farmhouse in the south, and begged him for forgiveness. I told him that I missed him, I missed the team, and that I was sorry that I wasn’t there for him and everyone else–”

You paused, needing a moment to take a breath. You didn’t understand how Bucky was still kneeling in front of you, taking in all of your words with such patience and clarity, but you were about to break down and start crying. 

“And I pleaded with him to tell me what I could do to make up for the shit I did to him, and he asked me to help you if the opportunity ever came— and it did– it finally fucking did, Bucky–” you said, your voice cracking. “I’m only here because I’m listening to the last order my Captain gave me. I don’t want to be an Avenger because this isn’t my team. These aren’t my people. I left my team. I betrayed them– I don’t… I don’t deserve to be here.”

“I know,” he said, nodding to you. “It’s okay.”

You stared at him, the tears slipping down your face. “What?”

“You already told me this,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “When you were drunk. You also made me swear not to tell you that you told me until you said it to me when you were sober.”

Your lips parted, a shaky breath escaping through.

“I just told you that we are fake,” you whispered. “That I– I’m only here because of Steve–”

“You also told me that you liked spending time with me every night,” he murmured to you. “And that hanging out with me was the first time in a long time that you had felt peace.”

“Bucky. I just told you our friendship is based on a lie.”

“I don’t think you would’ve told me the truth if you really didn’t care about me. Twice now, actually.”

“Why aren’t you mad at me?” 

“You’re talking to someone that has a horrible history, too,” he shrugged, a small smile tugging onto his lips. “If Steve sent you my way, then shit. I’ll send him a postcard. Never thought he would be playing wingman after all these years, but gotta give it to him. He always knew my type.”

A laugh of disbelief falls from your lips. “Seriously?”

“The media already thinks we’re together. I don’t mind it if we continue on with it. And from the looks of the conversation we just had with Sam…” A deep sigh escaped his chest, and shook his head. “We’re gonna be in some tough fucking shit pretty soon. We could use all the help we can get- if you want to keep going. I won’t force you.”

“You still want me on the team?” you asked.

“I think I need you there to keep me sane amongst the rest of them, actually,” he admitted. “They’re… a tough crowd.”

“They’re disorganized.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Bucky muttered, and you can’t help the smile that came onto your face at the exhaustion that briefly flashed through his eyes. He looked back at you, meeting your gaze, returning your smile. “Point is, I wouldn’t mind it if you were still there. I think that you deserve it, actually. For someone that claims to not give a shit about the team, that says that this isn’t your team all the time… You work harder than anyone on all those missions.”

“Old habits die hard.”

“Exactly,” he said, squeezing your hand just a bit more. “Come back to the tower with me? I need some help when Sam starts retaliating.”

“Is that all you need me for?” you asked, even though you already know the answer. 

Bucky’s gaze is locked onto you. There’s a small smile on his face as his eyes roam across your features, taking in your appearance. You’re not too sure what there is to smile about, not when you’re certain that your tear stained and mussed up hair is an absolute mess, but under his gaze? You can’t help but feel beautiful. 

He reaches, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as he shakes his head. Your jaw is being cradled in his hand now, as he pressed his forehead against yours– just something to let you know that you’re real. That he’s real. To let you know that he needs you more than just for the team. He needs you, just as badly as you need him.

masterlist

taglist: @duacruel @natsomens @decthaxhrcv @shortandb1tchy @iyskgd @ifuckwithyouanyday @miss-chuchu @bighappypiels @snnoopyy @messrkarmaismygf13 @thebuckybarnesvault @aekzla @simp4f1 @its-in-the-woods @lvrrinx @herejustforbuckybarnes @djotummy @star-yawnznn @gallifreyansass @nanikio @jmclouds @sundaepoet @the-salty-asian @overwintering-soldier @kjmonster111 @okaytrashpanda

[agreads]

ansā coffee Secures $9m in funding to boost market penetration

CoffeeTech startup ansā Roasting Inc. announces it has secured a total of USD 9M funding. Leading this fruitful round is Jibe Ventures, a Tel Aviv based early-stage fund. Additional participants include Closed Loop Ventures, New Climate Ventures, Millennium Food-tech, and Sweetwood. The new capital fast-tracks full commercial roll-out of ansā’s hi-tech coffee micro-roaster across North America…

[chocochiffonnn]

➸ Pairing: Boss! Park Sunghoon x Reader

➸ Word Count: 18k.

➸ Synopsis: Landing your first job at a high and well-respected corporation is a big deal. You had the skills, the knowledge, and luckily— the patience of being the secretary of an overbearing man. When things are starting to get a little smoother in navigating his demands, you were suddenly sent on a business meeting to France. And what's worse? You were going to the trip with him alone.Or basically, a story in which you navigate your true feelings in the streets of Paris, and ultimately, go home devastated.

➸ Themes: kind of enemies to lovers, work AU.

➸ Warnings: Sunghoon is mean at first, reader doesn't give in easily kind of, a bit of angst if you squint, SUGGESTIVE!!! (not comfy? leave.) i kind of also rushed the ending lol.

➸ Author's Note: HERE IT ISSSS! i hope you guys enjoy reading my second full fic on this account! this was so fun to make. as usual, reblogs, likes, and comments are much appreciated. tysm! ^_^

➸ Taglist: @em-asian @ikeumina @weyukinluv @mariegibeau @rairaiblog @immelissaaa @seokseokjinkim @jaehaki @saeeeee5 @areumhwang2000 @cutehoons02 @fancypeacepersona @sadgirlluvsmoney @gizellesaeriaaaa @stta-princess

FOR YEARS ON END— INSTANT NOODLES LEFT A BITTER TASTE IN YOUR MOUTH.

‘The Combo of 3C’s’ as though you’d like to call it. Cup noodles. Canned goods. Cheap soups. Any affordable but edible dish the market had for a broke college student attempting to survive. With piles and piles of loans, an hour of sleep per day and practically being slaved off to society— somehow, through luck, you’re still alive and thriving.

Perhaps not so the same for your arteries or blood vessels practically gnawing away at the ultimately highly processed foods you ate per day, point still stands.

You’re alive and thriving, at age 23, on the way to your first job— Park Corporation.

The degree that you slaved away to landed you this huge job. This huge fucking ass job.

Which perhaps is worth the hellish four years you've spent suffering, because you've heard of this before. Scratch that, you've heard of this everywhere. Park Corporations, one of the leading companies in Korea. If not, the leading company of Korea. Known for its hefty business and sales, this corporation practically thrives in wealth and riches.

Oh, and for you to land such a job for your first time?

That much was a feat. You were not only lucky, but also skilled. It was a given by now, with the way the Rolls Royce of these employees dropped off at the ridiculously large glass walls of the company, do you realize that— class matters. And status matters.

And luckily, you took matters into your own hands prior to leaving your house. You wore pinstripe trousers paired with black kitten heels and a fitted white button up, your hair was put in a sleek ponytail, and your wrist and neck was adorned with necklaces and bracelets that shone with simplicity. An outfit that commanded attention, and an aura that screamed tenacity.

You looked as presentable as ever, no loops, no error, and no gaps in the system. Because from the years of navigating through life, you remained certain for one thing— you allowed room for no mistakes. This was your only shot in making your years at work as smooth as it could possibly be with these bigshots, and ultimately, this first day will mark the rest of your working life.

And so, you entered the company with a confident stride. Bold, brave, and daring, absolutely determined to experience the taste of anything else but instant noodles.

The pristine walls of the facility felt dystopian.

After inquiring over at the counter, ultimately already being recognized as the newly hired employee in addition to the supposed planning department, you were redirected to an office at the fifteenth floor.

At the fifteenth fucking floor.

Now, you usually never assumed floors as the basis for employee importance, but you kind of did now. Probably a hierarchal thing that a pyramid usually is. The higher you are, the better.

The floor was busy, as in, busy, busy. Upon your presence at the elevator, some employees walked like crazy all over the place. Making calls and inquiries, group discussions over some papers—

“Excuse me, I—”

“Not now miss, the department is busy.”

“Excuse me?”

It came so suddenly, a response from a short, stubby guy who was conversing in a discussion with one of the employees. It was definitely directed at you, but you just had to make sure,

“Who are you and why are you here? Miss, questions are entertained over at the counter at the ground floor, not here—”

“Oh, I’m actually told to go here.”

“What?”

The short stubby guy halts his conversation with the other employee. Suddenly, it felt like no one was too busy anymore, it was no longer noisy. “The person at the counter told me to go here. I’m going to be the new employee.”

You emphasized the I’m part. To let him know you know your place and that you aren’t budging in like what he was visibly implying with the frown on his face. His distaste was as clear as day. “We’ve not been informed that a new employee will join this department.”

You were surprised, “Really? I was told down there this department should already know and that I’ll be directed and guided directly by the employees here.”

"Really? We should be informed about it then. Since we are not—"

"I can accompany you over at the counter to testify my response if you doubt me... Sir."

Yikes. That honorifics felt forced.

No one dared to interrupt, you hear a few gasps from some of the employees. Hell, even the short guy was stunned and once again, visibly offended. "Excuse me?"

"Or if there's a phone connecting this department with the counter, we can—"

"There is absolutely no need. I shall confirm it myself."

"... Alright." You nod, oblivious to his stomps as he walked over your direction. He stood a few steps away, eyeing you up and down, down and up. Well, that goes for your first impression here at the company. You didn’t eye him, but you stared at him in question. He looked like he was in his mid-30’s, with a mustache, bald spot, and all that.

You dared not budged, as if challenging him, telling him— No, you don’t get to say that. I know what I heard.

But he looked stubborn, so you chose not to press and silently follow his tantrum steps down to the ground floor, opting to stay a few distances away from the man.

“Yes, she’s assigned over at the planning department, starting today.”

The registrar at the counter, as poised as ever, typing away at her laptop. She’d just confirmed what you’d heard. You looked at the man who was stunned beyond belief. “What do you mean? Don’t all newly hired employees go to—”

“Orientation? Yes, that was last week, Mr. Kim.”

Mr. Kim, huh?

You felt his blood boil, the clench on his fist tightened as his bald spot fumed like a volcano. (if that was even possible)

“No, we can’t—”

The clerk suddenly bounced to her feet, closing her laptop and disregarding the man as she left her table and scurried off. “Yah! The conversation is not yet done, Yeri—”

“The Parks have arrived!”

She— Yeri, intervenes, stomping through her heels and walking towards the entrance along with the other employees who seemed to have gotten the memo. It seemed this Mr. Kim was stunned too, following Yeri as he shouted, “What are you doing just standing there?! Line up!”

With a nod, you followed him towards the entrance and group along a couple employees chattering about the Parks in an aimless manner,

“Mr. Sungwoo has called in a meeting today for the company plans after being discharged from the hospital.”

“Really?! I hope the CEO isn’t pushing himself too hard, working shouldn’t even be an option in that state.”

“I know right?! But I guess he really loves this company and his family.”

“Speaking of family, I heard the CEO is bringing his children along.”

“You mean Park Sunghoon and Park Yeji? Gosh! I’d kill to see them in person.”

“You’d pass out in person. They’re just as beautiful and attractive as the news make them out to be!”

The Parks. A family who owned the company you are to work in. You’ve seen them before, in news and television. Headlines surrounding their reputation never faltered, neither did it bounce off to another company’s name. The Parks remained consistent, perhaps their lineage being that lucky to be blessed with business minded people who strive towards perfection. In this case, perfection in work and in looks.

Park Sungwoo— coined as the CEO of the company. It had been twelve years since he inherited the job from his father, described by the press as a worhkaholic ever since he stepped into the realm of business.

His wife, Park Soojin, though not entirely being the center of attention, was described to be just as meticulous. You don’t know much about her, though.

And as describes by the media— the golden children, per se, Park Sunghoon and Park Yeji.

Park Yeji— 18, a fashion design major. Someone who strayed away from the family inheritance, seemingly going down a path of her own with her creatives.

And Park Sunghoon, the soon to be CEO of the company. Someone sharp, quick-witted, and too prepared for his own good. He looked too stoic, too robotic. His response during interviews were concise, he barely laughed, smiled, no crinkles or smile lines were visible on his face, which made you think he must be a humanoid or something.

No one can deny the fact that the genes of the family deemed strong, though. God, they were sculpted to perfection.

The employees halted their chattering, an indicator that the family was here. All eyes pointed towards the building, the employees and guards lined up. Then, they came in.

Park Sungwoo, Park Sunghoon, and Perk Yeji in the flesh. Their prim and proper suits and perhaps million dollar shoes reverberating through the room. Hell, the cameras don’t even come close to what they look like in real life.

“Good morning!”

The employees bowed, confused, you bowed as well. You stood up, in utter awe of their presence in full sight. They walked with respect, nodding at the short greetings coming upon them. Park Sungwoo grins, so does Park Yeji. But Sunghoon doesn’t, opting to nod along as he meddled with the sleeve of his vest.

Then you see him, and he sees you.

It doesn’t matter that it was but a brief moment, it was a moment regardless.

Thus marked your first technical interaction amongst plenty with him.

And today, this one, would at most be the most peaceful one you’d have yet.

When things don’t go according to plan, you somehow, always found a way.

Prior to working at Park Corporations, you’d always consider yourself to be someone observant and keen with details. Paired with a rather straightforward mouth and a mind that had a single goal— work for you had to be piles of paper riddled with precision and absolutely no mistakes at all.

It had been around a year of tapping your way into this industry, specifically, a department which had more or less appreciated your presence in the very room. One of who, is your co-worker, Kim Sunoo, who you became close with the moment you started working. He was quite the opposite, optimistic and bright in ever circumstances, it was like the universe circled in his head like a halo.

Navigating through the office and the workload had been easier because of his guidance, much like right now. The two of you meticulously worked on a particular paper, thoroughly scanning its premises before it was to be passed on to the next department .

“The plan is too out of reach, the budget department won’t approve of this.” Sunoo says, flipping through the papers as he ran his hand through his hair. “They won’t even consider it as an option.”

You follow, taping a sticky note with a commentary— to be returned— written on it. It was a particular Wednesday morning, the middle of the week sickness had gotten to you and you find yourself lazying away a bit more than usual. For some people, it was Monday. For you, it just had to be Wednesday.

And somehow, you just had to receive a sudden memo.

A memo which contained a direct visit from the CEO and his son himself. Supposedly, they were going through different departments for monitoring, and it was safe to say you had the privilege of being visited any minute.

“Good morning, Mr. Sungwoo! Mr. Sunghoon!”

Or perhaps, that moment was right now.

You quickly stood up, Sunoo does too, surprised at the sudden appearance. You are totally not informed it would be this soon. All of the employees bowed, a string of tension hanging in the air as they awaited the two men. Mr. Sungwoo looks around, hands on his back as he, as usual, smiled gently at his employees. And as usual, Park Sunghoon only nods.

“How is the department going on here? Any significant changes?”

Sunoo nudges you,

“Ah.”

You almost forgot. You were the department head now.

You quickly grabbed your clipboard, approaching the two men as you scanned through the contents of the compiled papers the department had been working on.

You stood a few steps away from Mr. Sungwoo, his brow raised as he awaits for your response. Mr. Sunghoon simply stares, blank written on his face. “As for the past month’s progress, the planning department has approved of five ongoing projects per department that seemed doable with the budget and premises at hand.”

You flip through a page, “this department also proposed a few projects in its own with regards to the company’s revenue.”

“And what might those be?”

Mr. Sungwoo seemed intrigued with the way you spoke, the way you carried yourself in front of him. Endless scanning through these papers and analyzing their probabilities and occurence was a routine, and by this point, you even had some of the project proposals memorized like the back of your hand.

So, when you finished proposing after what seemed like an hour, Mr. Sungwoo was stunned. Both by the preparedness, and the fact that he perhaps had to stand for half an hour listening to your yapping. The employees, albeit having the urge to sit down, listened aimlessly at the way you presented. Of course, the papers would not have been this organized if not for the fact that they too, worked hard to make it happen.

“I see everything is already under control. Who is your assistant in this department?”

You raise a brow, “Kim Sunoo, sir.”

“Do you say he works well under different circumstances?”

“… Yes, sir.”

He nods, “I’ll have my secretary get in touch with you then.”

Without another word, the two left the department office, leaving you dumbfounded and at loss for words. What in the world?

And that, officially, would mark your second interaction with Park Sunghoon.

One of the many, insufferable, ones you’d yet to encounter in the future.

A week after, you were met with major changes in your department.

Major. Major changes. Not the— a new co-worker has transferred into your department changes— type of change. But someone is transferring,

And that someone is you.

After being called into the office of the CEO, Mr. Sungwoo tells you he finds himself in a predicament, stuck between three options. He told you he would rather have his secretary deal with the issue at hand, but given that the circumstances would require the most encouraging words with not from anyone else but himself, he opted to send you in and announce something shocking.

Shocking, as in, scary, catastrophic, dangerous, and freaking— what the actual fuck?!?— type of response. The type of shock that had even your poised ass in front of him all stumbling and hesitating. Because what the actual fuck?

These were his statements during your discussion with him:

1. Mr. Sungwoo, the CEO of one of the largest corporations is getting old.

2. He is considering to pass on his position to his son, Park Sunghoon.

3. Park Sunghoon has already trained and managed for years on end, earning him the trust from his father.

4. The following shift in agendas would require Park Sunghoon to have a secretary by his side.

5. He offered the secretary position to you.

6. He apologized beforehand.

7. He also told you some encouraging words, if that made things a little better.

The last part was comparable to a warning, a little cautionary signal that told you to stray away. You had a choice, it was to take the job or leave it.

Simply put— risk the chance for a higher pay or remain satisfied and contented with what you earn now.

And to be even more simply put— deal with the fucking consequences or abstain and repeat every office morning routine.

And you never back down for a challenge, much less, the opportunity of earning more money at that.

So what’s a little shift in schedule have to do with anything? You’re still working, and though the tides may turn differently in your field of work, it doesn’t matter.

It’s just a little risk, right?

The first task of officially being given the title of secretary was simple, it was to accompany Park Sunghoon’s schedule each day of the week. After being dispatched and told you are the start immediately the following day, needless to say, some adjustments had to be made in the span of a few hours.

After bidding playful goodbyes with your co-workers the previous day, you urgently began to fix your schedule for tomorrow and perhaps, for the rest of this whole ordeal. You ultimately got the gist of what his schedule would be during weekdays, so that was a start. But first, it all begins with Mr. Sunghoon’s work time. The last time you’d seen him enter the building, it was a little over thirty minutes after the official call time.

8:30.

Park Sunghoon arrives. With your best foot forward, you strut towards his limousine as the guard opens the door and out came the man in full glory. Dressed in his suit, he looked as handsome as ever, bathing in his white skin. God, he looked like a vampire. A very, very hot vampire.

“Good morning, sir.”

You greet, Sunghoon briefly looks at you, raises a brow, before continuing to walk along like you had not exist.

…. Okay?

“Mr. Park, starting today, I’m going to be the secretary under your position.”

His long legs keep on walking and you try your best to keep up. “Can you stop following me?”

You were flabberghasted beyond belief. What stupid words to come out from such a terribly attractive man!

“Sir, I have to. I’m the new secretary.”

Déjà Vu much?

“I don’t need a secretary. Who put you in that position?”

“Your father, sir.”

Sunghoon stops in his tracks, sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingertips. At this point, the two of you are already at the elevator. You somehow managed to keep up with long-legged man. “I already told my father I don’t need a secretary.” Sunghoon says, stern, decisive. Not once had he even spared a glance that lasted more than a second, but you are not one to back down.

“And your father told me sir that you very well need one before he gives you his position.”

“I don’t need one, are you deaf?”

Something in your system boils, suddenly, you find yourself clenching your jaw and balling your fist. Keep calm, keep calm. It’s only the first day.

The first freaking degradading comment ever out of million ones that’ll presumably come out of his mouth. Now, you took the hint as to why his father apologized. Now, you know why his face looked sympathetic the moment he talked to you.

It’s because his son had such a colorful way with words. In short— Park Sunghoon is rude.

And to work under someone who spouted such nonsense when all you want to do is get business straight?

He’s gotta be kidding you.

“By all means, sir. This is by the order of your father. I am not deaf, I would highly appreciate it if you don’t speak to me in such a manner.”

Sunghoon’s ears perked as the elevator door opens. You still walked alongside him, though at a much more paced and less hurried manner. “Oh? And how should I be talking to you?” He wasn’t looking at you, but you can feel a smirk gnawing away at his face.

“With respect, sir. I may only be an employee, but we should get things straight. I am here for my job, and you are rude.” You sigh, “So I would appreciate it if you cooperate a bit more and make things a little bit easier for the both of us.”

There it was, the word rude, coming straight at him in quick speed. And when Park Sunghoon stops in his tracks, you know you’ve caught him.

He turns around, raising a brow, “Rude? Me? Do you know what you sound like talking to your boss right now?”

“Okay— this argument is over with. You comply and agree that you are my boss, and I am the secretary. Clear? You said it yourself, Mr. Park.”

Needless to say, Sunghoon bit back his words. Cat got his tongue? You’ve caught a little loophole in his choice of sentences, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you somewhat satisfied. Good for him.

“Now for today’s agenda, you have a meeting in five with—”

“I know. I don’t need you telling me.”

With that, Sunghoon storms off like a little kid that had their candy taken away from them. A professional little kid. He knows you had him beat right now, and he refuses to admit it anyways.

You smiled.

You: 1 point.

Park Sunghoon: 0.

It’s always really the moment when you least expect it.

One moment, you were a minute away from your dismissal time.

The next, Sunghoon is already in front of your desk in his office, with piles of paperwork to be encoded, sorted, and submitted by tonight. Tonight as in— in four hours time.

He was definitely doing it on purpose, with the way he grins so smugly when he saw your horrified face at the stash of documents as big as his ego. You were all powdered and cologned up, ready to finally debrief and sink into your bed, but Park Sunghoon is a menace. He isn’t letting you have all of that glory.

“I need these by tonight.” He says, you can see him fighting back a laugh. “Tonight?” You confirm. He nods not once, not twice, but thrice. Very, very, slowly too. He was taunting you, his actions made you internally rip your hair out.

You scan through the files to check their due date— for fuck’s sake! They were due the following week!

“Mr. Park, some of these are due next week,” You say, as you confirm some of the paper's dates, yet Sunghoon only nods, “I want to clear my desks and tasks as soon as possible, it’s why I need them by tonight.”

Sunghoon smiles, gently smiles. But you know better. “First day on the job secretary? I have a lot more of those.”

He then turns to leave.

You feel your anger bubble up, it was obvious he wanted to rile you up. And the worst part? It was working. You hated missed deadlines, you hated procastinating, most of all, you hated work that was beyond your schedule for that certain day.

But you refrained from shouting, the unprofessional action will immediately have you fired. Instead, you sighed ever so heavily and sat your weight down your the chair.

It looks like you weren’t going to get any sleep tonight.

The torture didn’t stop there.

Park Sunghoon had tricks up sleeve. It had to be his talent or something�� pissing you off that is.

For the first few weeks, his days consisted of everything and anything that’ll annoy any sane being and turn them into a tyrant.

For one, he refuses to drink his coffee if it isn’t a specific temperature. He keeps a thermometer lying around, every time you deliver him your morning coffee, it would have to be a specific temperature depending on his mood.

And when he doesn’t get it?

He makes you repeat it.

Two, he started stashing all of his assigned paperworks over to you when you least expect it. Given the first occurence during your first day, it was certain that Park Sunghoon was bound to do it again. And he does, every single time he felt like it.

When the day seemed to be going too well, Park Sunghoon was there to shove a mountain full of papers in front of your face.

Three, he modifies his schedule. Not just a couple of tweaks here and there, but he modifies his scheduled tasks for the whole entire week, rescheduling it in a certain day he deemed fit. And the worst part? You had to be the one to call and reach out to these schedules at hand in order to organize the schedules and tell them that Park Sunghoon has had a change of heart.

There is a fourth one, a fifth, a sixth, his tactics ranged and stretched into a hundred. And the worst part for him?

You handled it frustrated, but you handled it nonetheless. Not with ease, yet with the required professionalism and patience for the job. He’s immature that’s for sure, but it was obvious he was doing to it to spite you.

It frustrates you, but you refuse to show that to him. And it frustrates him too, yet he refuse to let you see it. So, it was a back and forth process of Sunghoon torturing you with everything, and you dealing with it in a way that it tortures him as well.

You could feel it, you could sense that he wanted to put you down from the position, to have you let go of the spot because he was too much, or too strict, or too annoying. However, you remain persistent. You were not letting Sunghoon get the best of you.

He wants his coffee at a specific temperature and keeps demanding you to make it to his liking?

Fine, you’ll reheat the coffee and burn your fingertips regardless.

He piles up his paperworks onto your shoulders?

Fine, you’ll get them done and look like a zombie the following day.

He tweaks his schedule in the most unimaginable ways possible?

Fine, you’ll deal with the hassle of the receiving end shouting at you for making sudden changes

He wasn’t going to make you leave the spot you’ve worked so hard for.

“I need these by tomorrow, have them arranged right away.” Came another pile of folders. It was a routine by now, each night, Park Sunghoon would load your table with this. At this point, your eyes were riddled with dark circles, your lips were cracked and dry from all the endless nibbling away.

You had no snarky response coming along his way, you only nodded. You were intent on finishing the task as soon as possible, every second counted. Arguing with him would simply waste a solid ten seconds.

You spent those ten seconds typing away, folding one of the finished folder, grabbing the rest of the stack for arranging. You didn’t really feel Sunghoon’s presence, but he was already behind your back. From the reflection of your desktop, you see his arms crossed.

“Sir, it’s 11 PM, you should be going home by now.”

Perhaps there was some bitterness in the tone. You don’t see it, but Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “It’s good.”

“What?”

“That—”

He points towards the file, “You work good.”

You had to cleanse your ears upon hearing what he’d just said. No way. All drowsiness from your eyes dissipated and you were left shocked, “Excuse me?”

Sunghoon coughs, “I’m going. Make sure you finish that by tonight.”

Your back was turned against him, so you don’t see him leave. You couldn’t.

Fuck. What was that?

It goes on for a few more days.

It’s odd.

Park Sunghoon demands a redo of his coffee, not five times, but only twice now. He gives you the same amount of work, but stays behind a couple minutes to comment on your work albeit it being positive or negative. He doesn’t just leave without notice anymore. And his changes with his schedule become less frequent— all the annoying and meticulous things about it lessened.

And you don’t know whether you should be creeped out or glad.

“You have a meeting with the HR department in an hour,” Flipping through your clipboard, you step inside the elevator with him. It had currently been two months since you’ve been given the position. Physically? You already lost a couple of pounds due to skipping meals and staying up late from Park Sunghoon’s orders. Mentally? It felt like your mind was suffering from intense drought.

Financially? You were doing great. Better than great. You were sustaining more than enough, even having left over money to spend on new work clothes. The job was brutal, but it had you elevating from your old economic status.

You ticked one of the box from the checklist, Sunghoon does not respond. No snarky comments, no barking back. He just nods. “Not much schedule for this afternoon. Your father requests for your presence at dinner, sir.”

“Who else is included?” Sunghoon asks, you quirk a brow, “Family dinner, sir. So expect your family to be there.”

You almost missed it, the way Sunghoon’s jaw clenched and the way his teeth gritted. “Cancel it, tell father I can’t come.”

“You can’t miss out sir, your father’s been noticing your absence in plenty of the family dinner arrangements.”

“I said to cancel the damn plan.”

He seethes, perhaps with more weight and force than intended. Surprised, you stumble on your own words, “Ah— Alright, I’ll contact your father and see what I can do.”

The weight of the air lingered on your part, perhaps on Sunghoon’s too. He sighs after a few seconds, twisting his head to the side. “Sorry. I just don’t want to be attending any family stuff right now.”

“I understand.”

You nod, taking a quick note to once again, earn a handful of scolding from his father. The words that should be directed to Sunghoon himself pointed towards his secretary instead. When his father harbors some scoldings for his son, it goes to you most of the time.

Still, this matter must be something that Sunghoon deemed to be untouchable. A sensitive topic on his part, so you don’t push.

For the rest of the budding morning and afternoon, Sunghoon attended to the rest of his tasks and agendas.

Until night eventually came and you prepared yourself for another set of hefty tasks from him.

Yet none came.

7:50 PM.

Ten minutes before his official dismissal, Sunghoon usually gives his tasks a minute late, so you had to keep your guard up.

But nothing came. All you see is Sunghoon coming out of his office, wearing his long coat as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of it. You observed his actions, the way he closed the door, he walked— he carried no papers at all.

“Sir, the files?” You ask him, expectant. Sunghoon looks over your direction, he thinks for a moment before he eventually spoke, “Go home early tonight. There is none.”

You blinked. Once, twice, thrice. The fingers that had flexed towards the keyboard, sharp and stretched, ready for the long hours of exhaustion. Eventually, Sunghoon noticed your absent-mindedness as his brow rose. “I said there’s none, you can go home now.”

You must definitely be hearing things. You slap your head lightly, shaking it and blinking your eyes to make sure you weren’t dreaming. You aren’t.

Park Sunghoon— your absolute menace of a boss finally lets you out early for the first time?

What a fucking steal!

Something must be terribly wrong or disoriented with the universe right now with the way he is acting.

But you’d be a little idiotic not to harness this once in a lifetime opportunity. Thus with an enthusiastic jump from your seat, you quickly fixed your table— absolutely ready to go home and feast on one of your latest series.

Sunghoon merely watches you as you hurriedly pack up. In your defense, you had to or else something might shift his mood and might make you stay even longer. Once done, you strapped your bag in your shoulder.

Sunghoon stands a few distances away, a smug grin tugging at his face, “That excited?” He says. You nod, “I’m going home relatively early for the first time, I have to go before you change your mind.”

Sunghoon chuckles— actually chuckles. Even the heavens blessed him with such a beautiful chuckle, it was actually insane. You start to walk towards the door, so does Sunghoon. It wasn’t of much attention before, but now, the height difference between the two of you is very prominent.

His broad sculpted shoulders made little to no effort to humble your frame that was smaller than him. He could pass as a model, in all honesty. What most people fail to realize however, are the moles that fainted his face much like a signature on an official piece of paper.

The way down was unimaginably quite, the sound of the night coming in full play. The sky was already dark, still, you had to take a bus on the way home. The elevator of the ground floor opens, but before you can even fathom, much less go out, Sunghoon presses the close button and immediately hits the basement.

“Um, sir, I don’t—”

“I know.”

“Then why—”

“I’m offering you a free ride.”

He’s offering a what now?

“I can—”

“It’s already late and dangerous. Relax, I won’t kill you.”

Once the elevator opens at the basement, he steps forward and walks ahead. You merely followed, surprised by the sudden offer.

He won’t kill you but he’ll probably leave you the middle of nowehere, right?

“I’m not dropping you in the middle of nowhere.”

“Oh.”

You nod, embarrassed that he could read your thoughts. The two of you reached his car, his watchamacallit model whatever car that probably costs your whole entire organ system or existence. He opens the car door on the left, “Sir, are you sure?”

You ask one last time. “No, just rot there.”

And so you do. You stand there, albeit almost holding the car door. You swiftly let go and stay in place. What an ass.

Sunghoon starts his car, reaching over for the mirror on your side and rolling it down. “What? You’re actually gonna stand there?”

You nod. “That’s what you said.”

“What?” Sunghoon scoffs, eyeing you from inside the car. He pokes his cheek with his tongue, tilting his head ever so slightly, “Get inside, I can’t believe you took that seriously."

“Of course I will.” You mumble under your breath, opening the car door and getting inside his pristine car. The scent came wafting in, the strong particular odor tingling down your senses. The one he always used at work, the scent you’ve come to memorize every time you walked beside him. Similar to laundry detergent, soapy, airy— something so clean and fresh.

Somehow, the scent suited him.

Sunghoon puts his hand on the wheel, you weren’t very familiar with the mechanics of driving, but hell was he good at it. He looked back, placing his left hand on the handbrake.

Oh wow.

“Just tell me the directions.” Sunghoon says, oblivious to the way you gawk at the way he drives. You nod, clutching your hands together and keeping your eyes forward. On the road, on the fucking road, goddamit!

“While I’m um—” The silence was killing you. “I’m here, I’ll discuss your schedule for tomorrow.” You opened your phone, having a copy of everything in every device always had its perks.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Sunghoon begins, from your peripheral vision, you see his mouth twitch upward as he attempted to stiffle in a laugh. “What?”

“When does your working spirit turn off?”

“What do you mean?”

He spares a glance, “I mean, you’re always working. And doing— that.” He points towards your phone. With a shrug, you correct one of the typos from the schedule. “Are you not like that, sir?”

“Why would I be?”

It came off a little surprising on your part, “You look like you’d be the all work no play type of person, you know.”

“That’s rather offensive.”

Realizing what you’d just said, you quickly refute and panic. “I’m sorry, it’s not like that! It’s just—”

“No, I get what you mean.” Sunghoon cuts off with a laugh, grazing the side of his temple with his finger as his elbow came to rest on the elevation of the door. “That’s what most people assume.”

“That you’re a workaholic?”

“No, that I’m full of seriousness and that I never have fun.”

You mumble beneath your breath, “anyone would see that, just look at your face.”

“Really? What does my face look like?” At this point, Sunghoon already released a chuckle. “You always look so serious.” You blatantly say.

Anyone but him would notice that, of course. When Park Sunghoon walked, it was always so poised and controlled, aside from his actions looking so robotic on your end, his face always contorted to that of a frown or a monotonous face whenever and wherever. It was like his program consisted of two emotions only.

“And your face is always like this—” You turn to him, copying one of his signature faces from your perspective. “Or this.” came another pose.

Sunghoon smirks, twitching his head to the side. “So they say.”

“So you are aware.” you sigh, “What do you think about it?”

“About what?”

“When people talk about that.”

“Me? Well, I could say I’m flattered."

You laugh, unknowing he was capable of making such a joke. Unless, it was actually not a joke and he was geniune about it. “What about the negative side of it?”

Sunghoon ponders, keeping his mouth shut for a minute. He lazily taps the wheel with his fingers before he spoke, “I don’t necessarily mind,”

“Besides, it’s not like I’m here to be pleasing people.”

You nod, gauging in his words and his feelings. So that’s why. His world always seemed so enclosed from a vision, so isolated despite being showered with public affection by those who admired him online. He isn’t here to frolic around and make people like him. He’s just him, there’s nothing more, nothing less to it.

“You go to the left after this.” His car turns left, eventually, you reach the door of your house and you tell him to stop.

“Thank you for the ride, sir.” You tell him once his car settled down in front of your home. Unbuckling your seatbelt, you turn to Sunghoon who had an unreadable expression on his face.

“I’m going now.” But you don’t move. Sunghoon too, remains still.

Then, you open the car door and bid farewell.

But before you had a chance to close it, he spoke, “Goodnight.”

Something’s definitely shifted.

The air, the atmosphere, the place, the person, whatever it may possibly be— something’s definitely changed. The number one rule when it came to businesses like these is to allow things to remain unspoken, to let things linger in the tense air.

It wasn’t a crime to be observing such a change It was however, forbidden to mention it.

You don’t mention it but you take note of it.

The way Sunghoon doesn’t even ask for a redo of his coffee now, drinking it as it is despite the temperature being different. The way he follows his schedule more diligently with less changes. The way he— instead of leaving his paperworks with you, does it himself.

The way he’s become a little bit more gentler with words and in actions.

The way it affects you in such a way that it has you confused, terrified, and loving it at the same time.

You tell yourself it’s just a shift in his attitude.

You tell yourself that he’s just being nice.

You tell yourself that it is nothing.

Because it’s definitely nothing, right?

“I’m done.”

It was Sunghoon, opening the door from his office and entering yours. It was past 8PM, you worked a little later given the fact that there are more tasks than usual.

Or you could just be looking for an excuse.

“I’m having a bit of a hard time with this.” You say, despite not seeing Sunghoon as your desktop blocked your vision. The mouse has you frustrated, refusing to cooperate and going all over the place on your screen.

Sunghoon was already behind you, presence inching even closer.

Until his chest made slight contact with your head, his left hand balancing himself on your table, and his right one making contact with something.

The said something being your hand.

Or the mouse.

Or the mouse that had your hand placed on top of it.

He has you trapped, seemingly unfazed and unbothered as he guides your hand— or the mouse very gently. “Hmm?” He quips, “It’s working just fine, you need to be gentle with your mouse.”

And you let him. You let him drag the picture you were doing just seconds prior, you let him cage you in his arms despite him not being aware of it, you let his chest warm the back of your head ever so slightly. And once again, the smell of his clean perfume engulfed your nose and suffocated you in a way nothing else had.

Fuck.

“Thank you.” You mumble, straightening your posture in order to look large, to feel large. Sunghoon pulls away from the contact, crossing his arms. “Don’t be so harsh with your mouse.” He teases.

You huff, clicking or typing away to calm your beating heart. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“It was lagging earlier, I swear.” You try and reason out, but Sunghoon only chuckles at your response. “… Right.”

“Are you not going to go home, sir?” You shift the topic, still not facing him as you busied away. “No, not yet.”

Then you hear something shifts, like a chair being moved.

“I’m waiting for you.”

Come Monday, and every shocking news washed down again.

After spending lunch with Sunoo and some of your old officemates, you went back to your office to resume your work. What greeted you isn’t that of paperworks, but with Sunghoon’s note saying— ‘come report to my office after lunch.’

And so here you are, in front of your boss, absolutely appalled at his sudden announcement.

“I know it’s sudden but—” Sunghoon pinches the bridge of his nose. It seemed even he too, was surprised. “Father said the notice came upon late and this matter cannot be missed upon by the company.”

The said matter being an official business gathering of different companies around the world for some nepotism, trades, or connections nonsense.

The schedule is tomorrow— in France.

“I don’t know if—”

“The company will shoulder the expenses if that’s what you’re worried about.” Sunghoon quickly cuts off.

“No, I mean, a passport. I don’t have—”

”The matter can be arranged quickly.”

“But what about—”

“If this is about the stay, the business, the preparations, father has already told me it’s been dealt with.”

What about his consent?

“Are you okay with me coming?” It shouldn’t be something you are to be asking, given you are his secretary and you’re practically attached to his hip most days of the week. Still, Sunghoon was a man who kept his walls up high. At this, he simply raises a brow, “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re my secretary.”

Some odd feeling tickled your stomach, “Of course. I’ll just— I’ll prepare for what’s to come ahead tomorrow. Is there something I should be noted of?”

Sunghoon shook his head, “Not that I know of, we’ll be dealing with such stuff tomorrow.”

You nod, briefly bidding goodbye once the conversation was over and leaving his room. God forbid something normal happens once in a while in your life.

You dramatically slid down the door, hoping he wouldn’t open it so suddenly.

“What a way to go overseas…”

You don’t know what’s worse, the overbearing press breathing down your neck and following Sunghoon everywhere he goes, or the fact that you discovered for the first time you had extreme flying fears. (Not that you went on an airplane before to test it out.)

Cameras and mics kept their distance, but still, they were there and ready to tackle Sunghoon with questions. Yet, the man remained calm and composed, walking in his normal pace as you followed behind him.

It was the first time you saw him in a not so formal attire, opting to wear a v-neck sweater and dress pants paired with some loafers. People would assume he’s a model and not some extremely snobby boss who orders his secretary around.

You also dressed yourself in something casual. But, attention to outfits were not really much of your interest given that your stomach was churning and your heart felt like it was about to jump out of your chest. Literally.

You tried to keep yourself composed. Keyword— tried. It seems you were doing a pretty good job at it, given that Sunghoon still had the nerve to order you to get him some coffee.

“Same temperature, sir? And black coffee?” You stuffed down the puke, you weren’t even in the plane yet!

Sughoon shrugs as he busied on his surroundings, hoping no journalists come near him. “Black coffee, any temperature is fine.”

You nodded and scurried off in search for his coffee, and a bathroom, too.

Minutes later, in search of Sunghoon, you find him in a corner of the airport, sitting idly and tapping away at his computer. He was already working and you hadn’t even left the country yet. After getting his coffee (and ultimately puking away to your heart’s content) you neared him and handed the coffee.

“What took you so long?” He says, the disappearance having been longer than expected. You quickly cover it up, “Oh, the line was long.” Lies.

If Sunghoon notices, he doesn’t seem to pry into it any further as an announcement for the next flight was made. Quickly, the two of you headed towards your board with luggages and bags in hand. Sunghoon had a small luggage, perhaps opting to buy the things he needed there— some decisions stupidly rich people do.

Puking it away doesn’t necessarily mean you’d have the pass of not feeling the terrible sensation again. So, once you were at the seat of your ridiculuously expensive private class seat, you stayed silent, your saliva tasting saltier than usual and your head feeling slightly lighter.

At least you’ll puke in a rather private place.

The plane was cold. While you tried your best to just be sane for a few minutes. After getting to your assigned seats, your leg jitters became inevitable. This, Park Sunghoon noticed.

“Are you nervous or something?” He asks, a geniune question. You quickly deny, “No. Why would I be?” Lies.

He nods hesitantly, but you weren’t stopping! Eventually, the plane announced its departure, the flight attendant announcing some rules and regulations. With sweaty palms and a salivating mouth, you clenched yourself together and prepared for the worst.

“Here.” Sunghoon hands you something, you look over. It was a piece of menthol candy. “Eat it, if you feel sick or something.” You thanked him, taking the piece of candy and popping it into your mouth.

He tells you to close your eyes, and you do.

He tells you to open your palms, and you do.

And then, his fingers intertwined with yours.

And then, his thumb rumbs the back of your hands ever so gently.

And then you quickly shot your eyes open, almost puking out the candy he gave. “W-what— Sir—”

“My mother used to do this to me as a child when I got plane sick.” He intervenes too quickly, “Don’t get me wrong. It looked like you were about to puke on me or something.”

But he doesn’t look at you, simply looking out the window as his right hand nestled his head.

What was he thinking?

You nod, reminiscing of that moment at the office when his hands guided you.

You tell yourself its nothing, because it’s definitely nothing.

He’s your boss, and you’re his employee.

But why does his hand feel so soft? Why are his fingertips so gentle and meek?

It’s definitely nothing.

By some odd miracle the gods have graced you with, the sickness of yours has gone astray.

Perhaps it was because of the fact that you already remain aware and predicted of how an airplane actually pilots, or perhaps it was because of the fact that his hands are like— there. For a solid hour, his hand remained still on top of yours. Nervous, yes. But he was certain.

Only then does Park Sunghoon lift his hand up when the flight attendant offers some of the meals, opting to point something at the menu and putting his hand back in its respective place— his lap. You’d wish it was your hand, though.

The meal eventually arrives after the two of you order, and with but the smallest appetite and the feeling of sickness, you politely refused.

“You didn’t have breakfast.” He says, pushing the plate just a little farther on your end. You shook your head, “I was feeling a little sick.”

“You still are?” He asks, you nod. “I might end up puking the food if I force it down.” Park Sunghoon nods, taking a bit of his food. “Alright, suit—”

Grumble.

“Ah…”

“I told you to eat.” He says, not even halfway through chewing yet as his took your utensils and pried it into your hands. “You’ll definitely throw up if you don’t eat something.”

“Wow, father like much?” You quip, eventually giving in and taking the smallest bite of the food. Sunghoon scoffs, ”I don’t want you throwing up all over me.”

But hidden beneath his voice, was concern and that of amusement.

After hours of shifting, eating, sleeping, and keeping yourself company, arrival finally dawned early in the morning sun.

It was 9AM in the morning, leaving the plane had felt like a glory, and going to the airport of a different country felt much too surreal.

You are in France now.

The city of love.

With your boss.

Which, shouldn’t be a big deal, it really shouldn’t.

You were here for business, he was here to boost the status of the company.

But business can be interchangeable with many things.

“The hotel we’ll be staying at is the same venue for the gathering.”

The said hotel was at The Saint James Paris, located somewhere around Paris.

At this point, the two of you are already at the car of one of his recognized drivers around France. You sat at the back seat, he sat at the front. It felt a little bit weird to be greeted with such announcements from him, given the fact that it was technically your job when it comes to venus and such.

Still, you nod, grateful for the preparation. “What time does the event start?”

“8PM. We’ll have plenty of time to get some business done.”

You take upon his suggestions, “Perfect, there are some matters over at the company that—”

“Or, I have a better idea.” You see Sunghoon peek over at his rearview mirror, the smallest glint of of mischief tainting his eyes. “We’re going around town.”

“What? But—”

“Hmm?”

Sunghoon looks back, his gaze challenging you— daring you to say something more. But you keep your mouth shut, afraid of the consequences he’ll reply with.

“Nothing.”

“Okay, a room would more or less cost me my salary in ten year’s time.”

It came off as a joke, but you were deadly serious. This— The Saint James Paris hotel thing was no joke. It wasn’t anything, it was quite literally, and ultimately everything you’ve ever dreamed of. It was like something out of movie set— like the Palace of Versailles and that Marie Antoinette could appear any minute.

It was the epitome of grandeur and elegance, nestling away from the bustling streets of Paris, but being located in the same city regardless. It screamed French nobility, the tapestry and furnitures of the just lobby itself screaming with gold and ornaments like no other.

It looked timeless and that of aristocratic luxury. Frankly speaking, it was beautiful, and quite literally, beyond imagination.

Sunghoon laughs as you obnoxiously gaped at the opulent fabrics that wrapped around your gentle and soft bed. Over to your right, was a private terrace that overlooked the garden down below.

“This is so breathtaking…” You mumble more so to yourself, Sunghoon leans against your door as his arms were crossed. He found it amusing you find such a place to be so magical, when for him, it was like any other.

The little sparkles in your eyes made soft crinkles appear in his eyes, and a little something jitter in his stomach.

“I don’t know how I’ll repay you for this—”

“I told you, it’s the company’s.” Sunghoon intervenes. “But it’s too—”

“It’s nice, yeah?”

He enters your room, fingers tracing the gold, silky curtains that entailed the head of your bed. Sunghoon’s room was right beside yours, with the same features adorning the very place. “It’s too fancy.” You say truthfully, feeling a bit cautious now.

He shrugs, “It’s nothing compared to what you’ll see later.”

You nod eventually, and after a few more discussions as to what the gathering will entail later, Sunghoon eventually leaves the room and asks to meet you in a few minutes.

And due to exhaustion and surprise, you plopped down on the bed with a heavy sigh.

“I seriously can’t believe this…”

Experiencing such luxury had never been part of your bucket list. You used to ask for a proper meal before, now, it felt like you were getting a buffet. Might as well make the most of it.

Paris was a bit colder than you’d expect it to be.

The afternoon breeze hit you in a swift motion, light as a feather, smooth as silk. You changed your attire, opting to wear layers that matched the weather without it being too suffocating. Eventually, someone knocks at your door and you went to open it.

It was Sunghoon, greeting you with a curt nod and a raise of his brow. He too, had the same thought and outfit in a mind. Dressed in all black, and warm layers. Regardless of what he did or wore— he always looked attractive and neat it drove you insane.

“Ready to go?” He asks, “Are you sure we don’t have any paperworks left to catch up on this—”

“Not right now, no.”

You laugh, “It looks like I’m not budging, sir.”

Sunghoon pauses momentarily, biting the bottom of his lip. Then he says, “Sunghoon. It’s Sunghoon.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Sir?”

Sunghoon coughs, eyes drifting away, “You can refrain from calling me sir outside of work.”

“Oh—” You nod, surprised, “Okay, um—”

“Sunghoon. Yeah. Sunghoon, let’s go?”

His name rolling off your tongue felt so natural and unique.

God, you could get used to it.

“Roses just seem a little too typical, but it’s fitting and romantic.”

You’ve always been a little bit of a flower enthusiast. Not necessarily obsessed or knowledgeable with all of them per se, but flowers in general attracted your eyes in such a way.

Walking along the streets of Paris after being dropped off, you realize that the abundance in flowers was definitely noticeable. By some luck, there were small booths and stands selling boquets, or single flowers such as lillies, peonies, daffodils, and anything alike.

It was like a small little world of colorful rainbows that had you in total awe.

And Paris being the city of love, well— it really made things all the more suiting.

“Oh, but look—” You point towards a rose, it’s colorful, red hues in full display. But aside from its red color, it was also painted with a bit of white. It was a two-toned rose, a rather odd one. “This one’s pretty.” You mumble, gently touching its petals.

Sunghoon stood behind you, hands in his pockets. “That looks rare.” He comments.

You nod, “Probably not, but it’s the first time I’m seeing something like this.” From the corner of your eyes, you see the shop owner near your figure.

It was an old woman, with a cute flower apron hanging from her waist. Her smile reached her eyes as she speaks something in French you couldn’t quite fathom,

“Oh! Quel beau jeune couple! Vous êtes ici pour acheter des fleurs?”

“Oh! Um—” You should have taken some French lessons on the way here. But Sunghoon quickly cuts in,

“Oui, lui recommanderiez-vous quelque chose qu'elle aimerait?”

You gesture to Sunghoon with your eyes— what are you talking about?

He looks at you and asks, “What’s your favorite flower?”

You ponder over it for a moment, scanning each and every flower that lined up. Eventually, you spoke, “Lilies. I like Lilies.”

Sunghoon nods, turning her attention towards the old woman.

“Puis-je avoir un bouquet de lys, s'il vous plaît, madame?”

Immediately, you got a bit of the hint. “Hey! No, we don’t have to buy flowers, it’s okay—”

The old woman smiles, “Un bouquet de lys pour la belle femme c'est!” She then disappears off to the inside of her booth, and you turn to Sunghoon with a small grin. “You speak French?”

He shrugs, “Something you pick up in years of business.” You nod, amazed at the particular talent and capabilities of him, it was a side you never knew until now. And frankly speaking, Sunghoon speaking French was something you never you knew you needed. It came off so naturally and so smooth.

“What did you guys talk about?”

“Oh, she just asked me what flower you’d like.” He says, but with the way his tone lulled off, it felt like there was something more he wasn’t telling. Still, you only nodded.

“Thank you, I’ll pay for it.”

The old woman eventually comes back, a small boquet of lilies in her arma. It was adorned with small flowers and leaves, wrapped in white and gold, contrasting its pink hues. The old woman hands the boquet to Sunghoon, giving the two of you a warm smile.

“Beau jeune couple! Des lys pour une relation prospère.” Sunghoon fished his wallet from his pocket, paying the old woman for the boquet before you even had the chance to speak.

“Merci.”

“That’s like the the only part I understand.” You chuckle, thanking the old woman with a bow. Sunghoon then hands you the flower, an unreadable expression on his face. It was then that you noticed the pink flush on his cheeks, perhaps from the reflection of the lilies or the cold, or he was blushing. It made him look cute.

Daintly, you took the boquet from his hands, “I’ll pay you—”

“It’s on me.” He quickly says. You simply stare at the fresh boquet within your fingertips, etching the memory into your mind. Then, you neared the flowers and took a waft of its scent. “It’s really lovely.“

You fight back the urge to throw the stupid grin on your face, but everything just felt so wonderful that you had to smile ever so widely. Sunghoon too, grinned at the expression your face. He liked you seeing like this, away from the stoic and strict face you always had at work (thought he was not one to talk).

Like whispers of grace, your lips coming into contact with the blooming petals. Beauty remained subtle in his eyes, but with you, it felt like every feature stood out in every way possible. It almost escaped him, the way he keeps his eyes glued to your face that was so appreciative of something so simple and small. And even if it does come of notice, he doesn’t acknowledge it or say it out loud.

Sunghoon felt like he was testing the waters, and it felt just right.

The two of you continued your walk around the city, a boquet in hand, and more sights to see in front of you. Eventually, upon walking and passing through the flower stalls, came next were the souvenirs.

Stalls of different pieces, ornaments, pieces, tapestries, figurines— each and every stall decorated with items that caught your attention and represented the city with simplicity. With Sunghoon straying a little bit behind, you neared one vintage stall, a particular item catching your interest.

It was a polaroid camera, the rare vintage kind that had its body wrapped in brown leather. It was displayed at a particular stand, so you neared it and ask the owner if it was still functioning. After confirmation, you asked for its price, and through Sunghoon’s translation, you came to know that the price was not worth bargaining or thinking over.

So you bought it after testing.

You took a particular picture of your boots first, anticipating the results of the camera. Once you’d gotten the printed film, you grinned like a child and wholeheartedly showed it so Sunghoon, “This is such a nice steal for a camera!” You argue, taking a picture of yourself afterwards despite it feeling a little bit awkward. The picture came off as a little bit funny, seeing as your eyes squinted and your angle was lower than it should be, giving that impression of a double chin.

Sunghoon chuckles at your picture, “I’ll take a picture of you.”

Sunghoon reaches for the camera, but the shop owner noticed this and offered to take a picture of the two of you instead. Reluctantly, Sunghoon hands him the camera and you settle yourself beside him. A friendly, casual photo, is what you had in mind. But when the owner shouts, “Tiens-la par l'épaule!”, you see beads of sweat droop down from Sunghoon’s forehead.

“What did she say?”

“She said to hold you by the shoulder.”

“Oh.” You nod very slowly, feeling the heat creep up your cheeks. “Go ahead.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, you nod more certainly this time, allowing his fingertips to snake upon your shoulders. He grips the blade of it with gentle care. Then, the owner shouts to smile. So you do, you smile with Sunghoon’s hands on your shoulder, you smile with your arms touching his.

And when the picture gets taken and the film gets produced in the black and white piece, a benign grin escapes from your lips. At this moment, it didn’t feel like Sunghoon was your boss. If you were to ask anyone about the person beside you at this picture, they’d undoubtedly say he was your boyfriend.

But he isn’t, he was your boss. And that’s what’s wrong about it.

You hum beneath your breath, appreciating the moment as it unfolds in front of you.

Sunghoon isn’t your boss right now. You’d think of it like that.

“It’s nice.” He compliments, eyes nodding towards the picture. Sunghoon, the man of very little compliments. “It’s so beautiful! I like the way your eyes kind of crinkle when you smile.” And you, the ever so generous compliment giver.

“You should do that more often.”

“Do what?”

“Smile. It looks pretty on you, suits you way better.”

Through the slight flushed cheeks of Park Sunghoon

Through the slight flushed cheeks of Park Sunghoon, he mumbles something. “Tch.”

Endless walking around the different stalls eventually led to the two of you becoming parched and exhausted. After a mutual agreement of going back to the hotel room after checking the time, the next unexpected destination of yours was surprisingly a small cafe as you waited for the car to drive you back to the hotel.

Sunghoon didn’t want to get coffee, had you not insisted. You wanted to pay him back for the kind gesture of the boquet. Thus, here you were, in front of the counter of a tiny but dainty coffee shop just across the lined up stalls, ensuring that the barista gets Sunghoon’s order correct.

“Yes, I’m sorry for such an odd request.” You pull off your best friendly smile, trying to coax the barista into brewing the coffee at a specific temperature. To your luck, she spoke English and was nice enough to take on your inquiry.

Sunghoon sat in one of the white chairs, after much insisting that he sat down and wait for his coffee. One of his legs were crossed over the other, his gaze was through the window outside. “What’re you thinking of?”

Sunghoon looks over your direction, pressing his lips into a thin line. “The corporate event later.”

“What about it?” He shrugs, “Father is expecting the best out of me from this. I have to do well and carry the company’s name in my back. Of course, he will no longer be here to guide me amongst these businessmen.” Sunghoon looks at the ground, “It’s odd, it makes me feel a bit terrified. Not that I acknowledge that.”

You nod slowly, feeling the burden of Sunghoon’s words creep upon you. At the rip age of fifteen, according to articles, Sunghoon had been on the path on following his father’s footsteps— to be the next successor to the Park Corporation. Now that he was 25, the pressure he felt upon his shoulders must be more than ever.

With but one of the biggest companies on his back, he represents it in front of thousands more. He carries the weight of Park Corporations and it must be heavy to bear. He hides it well.

“I want to do well, not only for him, but for the company as well. Does that make sense?”

You nod, thanking the barista once the hot coffees had reached your table. “Specific temperature, just how you like it.” Sunghoon grins at your attention to detail. You continue, “It does, it must weigh a ton.”

Sunghoon doesn’t respond to your answer.

“But you know… Sunghoon, you’ve always done well.” You sip your hot latte, its hot sensation seeping your throat, “In anything you do, it’s like, I’ve always thought of you as a robot or something.”

He almost chokes on his coffee. “Really? Why’s that?”

You laugh, “Not in a rude way. Just… You know, someone who has this specific program of being very much a workaholic.”

“You’re one to talk.” He smirks and you retaliate, “Hey! I’m a workaholic because society forced me to.” With a heavy sigh, you lean back on your comfortable chair. “If given the money and privilege, I’d probably be bathing in gold and refusing to work right about now.”

Then, you fumble with your coffee cup, feeling the matter go a bit more sensitive and harder to spit out on your end. This was a story you’ve told your friends plenty of times, the tale even coming off as a joke and a laugh of your pitying situation. But, in front of Sunghoon, you find yourself vulnerable and open. It was different, it was scary.

“That is, if given the choice. Contrary to you—” You point to him, “You’re given that choice.”

Sunghoon pretends to feign hurt, clenching his heart with a slight sigh. You chuckle, “And yet what? You choose to work and make your father, make the company proud. I think that’s like, a huge, unimaginable feat. I think… The fact that you’re here now and making a name for yourself in the realm of business where everyone is a predator its just— it’s really amazing.”

“Not really, anyone can do it.”

“Yeah, but, not everyone has the guts to step in. You could be bathing in gold right about now too.” Sunghoon geniunely laughs, the fangs of his teeth showing ever so slightly. From this angle, you glance at the way his black hair is slightly tousled, the way those fangs of his are taking a peek, and the way his nose looked sharper and more refined.

It was odd, how you found the sudden urge to kiss him.

“I guess that makes sense. It's good I didn't choose to be bathing in a gold then, yeah?”

You shook your head, “Why?”

“How would I have met you otherwise?”

You wanted to bang yourself against a wall.

Like, jump in front of a cliff or like do something stupid.

Usually, your work outfits would consts of heels, slacks, blouse, and a blazer. Note— slacks or pants.

Now, you find yourself wearing a black maxi dress, your bare shoulders exposed, the cleavage of your beeast slightly peeking out. What’s even worse is that it was fitted. Fucking fitted! It quiet literally hugged your curves and your butt.

“I look delicious though…”

You say to yourself, doing a bit of twirling around and flicking your hair in the most dramatic manner. But you still wanted to bang yourself against a wall. Sunoo was the criminal to such a situation, when you’d ask him if he knew someone who had formal dresses, he came prepared with his sister’s.

What you didn’t imagine though is that you’d look this— unimaginable in it. Now, the test to survive in such a dress begins.

“Are you ready?”

A familiar voice knocks at your door. With a final twirl and perhaps a bit of consciousness over your outfit, you open the door and—

Shit.

Of course it was Sunghoon. Who else could it possibly be? But it was Sunghoon. The person in front of you is Sunghoon, the delicate fabric of his suit tailored perfectly to his body. It was an attire you never saw him in before, usually he’d wear something black. This one, was a jet blue.

And the face, oh gosh his face. He never wears makeup but he looked absolutely glistening in this angle, or it was perhaps because of the fact that his hair was put into perfection, styled with gel in the most perfect manner ever.

God he looked handsome.

“Oh, wow.” You mumble short, quickly regaining your composure once you feel your jaw go slack. Sunghoon tilts his head, oblivious to the way you gawk, “Ready to go?” He asks.

“I am— yeah, I’ll just close the door.”

You don't know why you had to state that.

Sunghoon chuckles, "You look very pretty.”

“You don’t—” You turn around and face him, hoping he doesn’t catch hint of the slight blush on your cheeks. “Look too bad yourself.”

Sunghoon grins, “Let’s go, yeah?”

You nod. The walk to the to the hotel’s banquet hotel was filled with short conversations of aristocrats, owners, and businessmen alike. (Mostly on Sunghoon’s part.) He does most of the talking, and you are able to differentiate exactly why he was made for this world.

Concise, sharp, and straight to the point— that’s exactly how he answers. Capable of getting the receiving end to share more than what was necessary. The way he spoke was smooth as butter.

Eventually, the two of you reach the event’s place. It was a large room with decor similar to the lobby, it had plenty of cocktail tables displayed around. Tables of appetizers and wine were lined up as the room was already filled with those who belong in such a world.

It was rather lively. Easily, Sunghoon blends into the crowd with you tagging along. “Don’t stray too far, these people bite.” He warns,

“But if we’re lucky, we can make something out of this.”

“Oh? Is that Kim Corporations? We might have a shot at partnership.” You mumble beside him, Sunghoon smirks. “You already know how it works.”

“Of course," you give him a meek smile, but there was a hint of mischief behind your eyes. “I am your secretary, after all.”

The night bursted with sophistication, coupled with endless interactions with entrepreneurs and businessmen alike. The art of being in such an industry works wonders. It was not much of a question to those who have not yet stepped a foot into such a world— as to what makes something like this so crucial in each and every aspect of a company.

Building connections, establishing a name for your group— that was the main goal of such gatherings. But these people are not to be confused to be clean slated, offering kindness and partnerships in one swift go. If anything, they were quite the opposite, and rather brutal, too.

This world bites you not in the face, but in the fucking ass.

It was noticeable enough, with the way the discerning eyes of those who’ve proved they are all that, gauge at the actions who they consider either as an opponent or ally. Either way, Sunghoon was no opponent to anyone else, at least for now. And he knows this, keeping his boundaries in tact, knowing the realm of such a harsh reality. And ultimately, he prepares himself.

“If there’s something you might want to ask away…” The moment comes all too soon, a man dressed in a silky red suit approached you seconds prior, a glass of champagne in his hands. His hair was slick, eyes governing only what you could describe as interest. Deep, growing, interest.

“You can ask me. I’m open for questions, or better yet we can take it elsewhere?”

It seemed clear the business he had in mind was different. You somewhat sigh, maintaining your best to remain polite and opting to give the thick-browed man a tight-lipped smile. Sunghoon had gone for a couple of minutes to entertain other businessmen after much assurance that you can do fine on your own.

“I appreciate the concern, I think any queries I may have in mind may be taken here and absolutely not elsewhere.”

He doesn’t seem to get the hint.

“I’m Si-Woo. Soon to be heir of the Loom Corporations. I think you know very well what company I’m pertaining to, given that, you’ve earned your place here.”

Loom Corporations? Doesn’t ring a bell.

“Well, that’s besides the point miss. Because—” He takes an inch further, reaching out his arm, “Here to make quite a different impression on you.”

But before his grubby hands could even fathom reaching the surface of your skin, a sudden grasp on your waist pulls you back and against a chest of another. The perfume of his was enough of a recognition. “Si-Woo, long time no see?”

It was Sunghoon, the tone of his voice drooping down. “I didn’t know you were taking over your family’s business.”

The man pulls back, placing his hands back to himself as he eyes Sunghoon with a smile of his own. A smile that screamed— what the fuck did you do?

“Sunghoon. It’s been a while, yeah. My father handed it over to me. Is she with you?” He asks, seemingly not catching onto the hint. But Sunghoon was glad to slap it in his face, “She is, why do you ask?”

“I don’t know,” The man shrugs, “You told me you hated getting a secretary before, much less, a female one.” The way the word female spews out of his tongue made rage bubble inside your stomach. It was blatant insult, and he wasn’t being discrete about it, too.

“I don’t remember telling you that. I dislike secretaries in general.” Sunghoon subtly pulls you further in his embrace, “She’s an exception. I’d appreciate it if you can get your hands off my employees.”

“I see,” The man feigns amuse, “I’ll take note of that then. See you around, Sunghoon. Be careful."

The latter part sounded like a threat, a warning that gave Sunghoon an inkling idea of this. Of the words he spews out, the dangers his confidence resided in. Sunghoon feels no threat however, with the way he tilts his head to the side and raise his brow. With the way he smiles and says, “Gladly.”

The man eventually leaves with a frown on his face, the champagne leaving a bitter taste down his throat. Sunghoon deviates his warm hands from your waist. “Are you okay?” He asks.

“Yes, I had it under control.”

“I know.”

“Why did you step in?”

Sunghoon frowns, crossing his arms. He’s facing you now, “Was that a problem?”

“No, it’s just—”

“I was only doing my job as your boss.” Sunghoon intervenes, the tone of his voice shot straight through your chest. It had felt like he was raising his voice at you.

“Are you mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“It feels like you’re mad.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Mr. Sunghoon.”

“Ms. Y/N.”

“Sunghoon.”

“Is that any way to talk to your boss right now?”

“What?” You rub your temple, gazing around the banquet hall. Luckily, there was no one who had interest in snooping in. “I can’t believe this.”

“What?”

“Just tell me if you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad, I’m just worried.” Sunghoon says, grazing your arm and gently making you face him. “I know that guy, we used to go to the same highschool. And he’s—” Sunghoon puts his hand on his hips, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Dangerous. As much as possible I don’t want you going near him, I know how he works.”

“I know how men like him work.”

You open your mouth, then close it, then open it again like a fish. Now, it had made sense. “Oh. I see.” You nodded, “I’m sorry if that’s the case I didn’t know.”

Sunghoon shook his head, “It’s alright, just—” and by some unexpected air in the wind, he subtly rubbed the small of your back.

“Just be careful, okay?'

By some odd reason, Park Sunghoon couldn’t get his eyes to pierce away from you.

If the sole reason was because of your encounter with the man earlier, it didn’t really explain why his gaze looked… Like that.

From the corner of your eyes, you see the way his gaze lingered just a tad bit longer, or the way his eyes would droop down to yours, down to the curves of your lips. And as the night shifted and the event eventually wrapped up, you find yourself in a turmoil on the way back to your room, walking alongside him. Complete, utter silence.

And once you reach the room of your door, exhaustion hitting you faintly, Sunghoon stood in front. He didn’t speak on the way back, he kept his works at a minimum at the banquet. “Thank you, you should get some rest for tomorrow, sir.”

You referred to him with the formalities, if Sunghoon noticed, he doesn’t argue. “Mmh. You should go inside.” He says, but your feet don’t move. “I really should.”

You really should.

“Yeah.”

And Sunghoon should really turn around and go to his room.

But you both don’t.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

“Say, um—"

“Hey—”

Sunghoon beat you to it, “You go first.”

You really shouldn’t be making such an offer, but you do. “I have some wine that I brought, I see you hadn’t had a drink at the banquet earlier.”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He says, crossing his arms with a smug grin; he was surprised you even noticed. “We can toast if you want? For today’s event, I mean, it’s okay if—”

“I’d want that.” Sunghoon intervenes, taking up the offer with much enthusiasm. You nod, turning around to grapple your door with sweat and clammy hands, wishing, hoping, he doesn’t hear the nervous beating of your heart. It wasn’t your own home, but you felt conscious of it. Had you left any underwear lying around? Is your bed fixed? Did you make sure to organize your stuff?

Fortunately, your room was neat and tidy. Sunghoon enters, his presence looming behind your back. It was the tension you’d felt at the latter part of the gathering just minutes back— thick and strained. You only hoped it was just you who felt that way.

Your back was turned on him as you approached the refrigerator door, reaching for the wine you’d brought along the trip. One of his favorites, on work days Sunghoon requested wine early in the mornings rather than coffee. The moment you had a chance to open the door however, Sunghoon’s long arms and hands closed them for you. Both of his arms situated at either side of you, ultimately trapping you. “I thought we would—”

Something shifts.

And a subtle weight was placed upon your right shoulder. His hair tickled the nape of your neck ever so slighty as he mumbled, “I lied…”

Confused, you utter, “What do you mean?”

“I’ve had my share of alcohol back at the banquet, I don’t want anymore.”

Oh, so that’s why his breath smelled like slight cherries.

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could have—”

“Can you turn around, please?” Sunghoon whispers, “Wha—"

“Please?” He now begs.

So you do, moving like an animatronic that had no mind of its own, coming face to face with Sunghoon just inches away from your face. His arms still trapped you in the door of the fridge, refusing to let go. His eyes were that of softness mixed with endless nights of no sleep.

His subtle laboured breathing and the slight flush of his cheeks was enough of a hint.

He looks at you– thoroughly looks at you with the same eyes you’ve seen him draw before.

… Fondness.

“Are you okay?” You quietly ask him, hands flaunting around in an attempt to do something. Sunghoon grins, tilting his head to the side like a lost puppy at your words. “Mmh, you’re so…” His fingers took a strand of hair, twirling it around.

“Pretty.” Sunghoon doesn’t hesitate to answer. He knew he drank something, but he wasn’t drunk, neither was he tipsy. “Looking so dolled up there, y’know, I almost lost my shit.”

You were left speechless, strangled by his unexpected confession. “Almost.” He laughs, shaking his head more so as if he was talking to himself. “You’re so not making this easy for me, baby, just…” Then his fingertips trailed from your hair, to your shoulder, to the base of your chin, grasping it gently and making you look at him and not anywhere else.

He’s not making this any easy on you, either.

“Can I kiss you?”

You almost choked.

What?!?!

“Sunghoon, are you drunk—”

“No.”

“Then why—”

“I just want you, is that bad?”

No it’s not. It’s terrible. Absolutely terrible, devastating, catastrophic. How were you supposed to remind him that he’s your boss and people in such position don’t usually say things like that? Do things like trap you, hold your waist, your hair— and most of all, how were you supposed to say to him that enjoyed it, too? That you quite literally soften and cave in to his touch, making you feel like putty?

How were you supposed to tell him that every thing he’s been doing to you, albeit it being the most smallest thing ever, has you blushing and losing your mind? You’d want him just as much as he’d want you. As simple as one, two, three. But you’re just his secretary, and he’s a man of high value and respect. So no, it wouldn’t make sense, nor would it be right to do such a thing.

“But I’m your secretary, Sunghoon. It really wouldn’t be right if—”

“Do you want me too?”

“Wha— Yes, but—”

“Then it’s okay, right?”

Sunghoon insisted of his soberness, but right now his words felt drunkenly. He never spoke like this. Can you really indulge yourself in such an act?

“Sunghoon…”

The man sighs, caressing your cheek. In a split second, somehow— he regains his senses as his fingers twitch beneath. His eyes sparked, hand pulling back, “I’m sorry— fuck. Why did I ask that….”

The shame in his voice was evident, pain tainting each and every word. He creates a distance, rather, he tries to.

“No, it’s not like that, hey—”

“It’s okay it was a mistake on my part, I’m sorry, I—”

“Stop—”

Well fuck it.

You pulled his collar and smashed your lips against his. Hard, rough, passionate.

It wasn’t any kiss, it felt needing, deprived of something far greater. With no questions needed, Sunghoon kisses back with the same rhythm, pulling you— Closer. Closer. Closer.

Only then when the two of you run out breath pull out, heaving breathless gasps as your breath mingled with his. “So sweet…” Sunghoon whispers, gliding a thumb across your bottom lip. Fuck.

“Sunghoon are you sure of this, I—”

“I want you.” He says breathlessly.

All walls crumbled down. Suddenly, this very moment in the dim lights of your hotel, did you feel the need to disregard all sense of formality and professionalism you had for Sunghoon. It was driving you insane. With the way his fingers carved its presence on each and every detail of your body, the way his gaze felt needing of something, the way his lips felt so perfect and ripe against yours.

It didn’t matter now what the consequences would entail later.

Because what more could you possibly want more than this?

The soft morning dew cascaded through the soft, thin fabric of the curtains. A gentle reminder that the morning has come to greet you as the rays of the sun hit the corner of your eyes.

You winced visibly, blinking through the light that had come to disturb your peaceful sleep. The sheets were as soft as ever, plush, and encompassing against your body. Your naked body—

Fuck!

Quickly, you flung your eyes open, feeling the sensation of the cold air hitting the crevices of your breast. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

You shifted slightly, trying to make sense of the situation at hand, only to feel a strong sensation on your waist, pulling you closely to something warm and hard. You weren’t going to pretend it was nothing, because it was definitely Sunghoon.

The more likely solution? You were going to pretend you were asleep.

You know what went down last night. The intense hunger and ravishing desires from the two of you, the touching, the teasing, the banters, the actual thing.

“Mmh.” A mumble can be heard from behind, tickling the base of your neck. His grip on your waist tightens, spooning you in the most oddly comfortable position ever. Sunghoon was still asleep.

Quickly trying to get the senses to stand up, you unwrap his strong arms from your waist, but he wasn’t budging!

Something shuffles, and then all of a sudden, you feel his lips come into contact with your ears, “Good morning…”

His morning voice slips through you as Sunghoon’s fingertips caressed the area just above your belly button. Unlike you, he was calm and still. “G-good morning…” You mumble, still unfamiliar with his touch on you.

This is really happening, Sunghoon clasping you in his arms and you, bare and naked.

With a soft sigh, Sunghoon’s strong arms gripped your waist and gently turned you around to face him. The sight that greeted you was heavenly with his slow blinking eyes and the light grin that adorned his features. Given that the sunlight had its trajectory over to your bedroom space, the sunlight hit his face in such a manner that it looked like he was glowing.

God, you felt your knees tremble.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks, letting his hands run from your waist to your hair, gently removing the strands of hair. You nod, “I did, what about you?”

Sunghoon nods, ”I did too.”

Acting on impulse, you let your fingetips touch his cheeks, carving little moons on them, down to the mole that settled beneath his eyes. You settled in the tranquil, just the two of you, feeling the need to not say anything at all. Sunghoon hums as you explore the depths of his face, and you smile as you remember each feature of his.

It felt too good to be true.

“What time do we have to go back to Korea?” You ask all of a sudden, retracting your hands away from his face. Sunghoon felt a sense of coldness from the lost of touch as he answers, “Around lunch. We have much matters to attend to back there.”

You nod, feeling glad to be back in your own safe space. As much as Paris had felt like the biggest dreams for you, you were starting to feel a little homesick.

Something then rings from the bedstand, garnering your attention away from each other. It was Sunghoon’s phone and he answers it after you urged him to do so.

“Hello?”

“Hello? Sunghoon?”

“What is this for? Who are you?”

“Ah! I’m so glad I got through, your father gave me your number. He said you’ll be back from France in a bit, then we can discuss over some things after you’re here.”

“Who is this?”

“Don’t you remember me? I’m Kim Sohee! Gosh, I missed you! We have so much to catch up on.”

You know for a fact that some things are only temporary.

At age ten, you lost your favorite toy over to the neighbor’s son. At age fifteen, your bestfriend of years had left you to go study overseas. At age nineteen, you chose a course unrelated to what you had now, only to shift because you felt uninspired.

At age twenty-three, you felt like you were on a very tightrope.

Like there was a piece of line connecting your desire and the fear you felt from those desires. It was a thin rope, barely hanging on. Yet, you keep jumping around it regardless, always loving a bit of the challenge it gave you. But that tightrope was already there for years on end, and frankly speaking, it was about to break any moment now.

“We have to go back to Korea straight away, sir. Some things can’t be kept waiting.”

There was bitterness in your voice, a hint of pain and sadness lingering too. You refused to let your voice crack, refused to let Sunghoon see the expression in your face as you stuffed some of your clothes into your luggage.

“We don’t have to, my father said—”

“What your father said is right. It’ll be perfect for the company’s name.”

Finally, you had the guts to look at him. Just barely.

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says, frustrated. He pinches the bridge of his nose, “Why’re you acting like this?”

But deep down, Sunghoon knows why.

“Like what, sir? I’m completely fine. Please, get your things packed, it’s already past lunch and the driver is waiting for us outside.”

“Y/N, I—”

“Please.” You now beg, looking at him as a whole now. You felt the tears trickle down your face. “Just go.”

“Listen to me, Y/N. I didn’t want this to happen, okay! I tried talking to father about it, and—”

“So you knew for weeks that you were getting married?” You scoff, “and you refuse to tell me and chose to do this instead?”

Sunghoon’s eyes shifts, he swallows the dryness in his throat. “I didn’t know father would take it seriously. Listen, I refused the absurd idea when he told me before and he seemed okay with it.”

You shook your head, “He wasn’t okay with it. You thought he was, but you know how this industry works, Sunghoon.”

The weight of your words felt heavy on Sunghoon’s shoulder, he couldn’t utter a single word, only watching as you haphazardly fix your things, your luggage, your clothes— everything. Like you were showing him that traces of you were never meant to be here in the first place.

And for the worst part? Sunghoon knows you’re right. He knows something like this— whatever you had going on, would never slip by in such a world where power was everything and you had none of that. At least, neither in money nor in status.

You were just his secretary.

And he was someone so high up that it hurts.

Sunghoon knows he couldn’t do anything about it either, because the marriage was in two days time. Unbeknownst to him, his father has already organized and planned out everything behind his back.

Unbeknownst to him, he was getting married for the sake of family business all against his own will.

And you knew, too that Sunghoon is just your boss, nothing more, nothing less. Someone deserving of respect and none of this. Your awful, tainted desire of wanting him. The hesitant gazes and touches, none of the office romance you’d always read and watched in movies.

Sunghoon just stood there, unresponsive. He stood with a frustrated gaze and a heavy heart as he watched you pack. “Just leave, sir. Please.” You beg for the last time.

And Sunghoon listens.

He leaves.

The ride on the way back to Korea felt exhausting to say the least.

It was silent yes, with the way neither of you spoke a word and let the silence hung in the air. But it was an uncomfortable silence, the kind that was dreadful and undesirable.

Sunghoon did not bother to speak at all, neither did he try and resolve the problem. And although it stung, it had to be for the best.

After all, are there any more solutions left?

It had been some time in the afternoon when you arrived back to Korea, opting to go to the company first to attend to some business at hand regarding Sunghoon. The said business being his marriage preparations. Ironically enough, you were in charge for the preparations and the designing of the venue itself.

His father was there, his sister, his mother, the woman she was to marry— Kim Sohee, and her relatives involved in the matter.

It was a proposal of marriage, all for the game of business and wealth. But Sunghoon knows Sohee, and she knows him too. They’ve been close enough since they were little, after all.

Sohee’s eyes, though, are different towards him.

The woman felt and looked like one of stature, keeping her head up high and her words crisp and straightforward. She kept her guard and her image well put, yet she had that strange look towards Sunghoon whenever he gazed over in her direction, must be love or something like that.

As for Sunghoon? You couldn’t bother— couldn’t bear to see what his expression would hold.

The meeting ends on a peaceful note, with Sunghoon going along with what was planned for him and you, trying to keep everything professional all in the name of your job. But every minute you hear the word marriage, it had felt like torture on your end.

“The honeymoon must be held in Italy! It’s surely such a beautiful place.” The mother of Sohee spoke, she was a bit of a nagger, too enthusiastic for this entire ordeal. Park Sungwoo, Sunghoon’s father, chimed in, “No, no. I was thinking of France. You know? The city of love, it is very worthwhile to spend their moments there as a newly-wed couple.”

You physically feel your eyes roll. How fucking ironic.

“Secretary Y/N? I entrust the matters of the preparation to you.” Sungwoo says, nodding with enthusiasm. He knows of your capabilities as Sunghoon’s secretary, but he doesn’t know what you’ve done with Sunghoon. He’d be sad if he ever hears about it, honestly. You nod, attempting to feign innocence and professionalism. “Yes, leave it up to me, sir.”

You feel a pair of eyes slice you in half but you ignore it regardless. It didn’t matter now, at least, not anymore.

The two days of rushing the preparations back and forth proved to be much troublesome than expected.

Weddings take months, if not, years to prepare. Doing it in a day was torture, absolute fucking hell. From venue, to designs, food and other paraphernalias, sleeping had barely been an option anymore.

Spending late nights over at the office had once again, become inevitable. During office hours, you raked through paperworks. The hours following it, consisted solely of wedding planning.

Each task felt heavy and long when it came to the latter part. Time passes by so swiftly whenever you worked on paperworks. But for this? It’s like time wasn’t moving at all. Like right now, a particular moment late at night. Twelve hours before the ceremony, you were busy working your ass off for the guest list. Much aid had already been handed out to you from your previous department.

You were a perfectionist at heart. Refusing to let your feelings get the best of you, and ensuring that each and every aspect of the ceremony was spot on.

“Yes, yes. 9AM tomorrow if it’s possible, I’ll send the venue over.”

The clicking of your keyboard reverberated throughout the room, you squeezed your phone in between your ear and shoulder.

Part of you hoped Sunghoon would swing by and perhaps stay a bit longer like he’d used to.

But he didn’t do so yesterday, so it was highly unlikely he’d do it right now.

Yet you hoped, you wished for him to stay a little longer despite all the pushing away.

“Thank you, I’ll give the complete details tomorrow.” You end the call on your end, feeling a bit of the weight sliver away from your shoulder. It was 1AM now, office hours had long been gone and it was just you inside the office and the dim lights from your table.

You stretched your arms over your head, yawning as you did so.

A soft thud can be heard and suddenly, a small bottle of coffee and a sandwich was placed in front of you; the kind of coffee that’ll have you awake for hours and the kind of sandwich that’ll have you full for a while. Surprised, you looked behind your back only to see him. Arms crossed, leaning in one of the spare tables.

Park Sunghoon.

“Sir, what’re you doing here?”

He nods towards the coffee and sandwich, “Go eat. You haven’t eaten.”

“I’m fine.” You nudge the food away.

“Still so subborn? I said just eat.” Quickly taking it upon himself, Sunghoon unwraps the sandwich and he prods it towards your lips. Your eyes scan over his features, he was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. He probably came home first, then came back here to give you this.

You don’t open your mouth, mainting politeness and pushing his hands away. Still so soft and gentle. “I’m not hungry, sir. I’m fine.”

But as if he was some sort of fortune teller, he holds your chin and opens your mouth to push the sandwich in. The moment you took a bite, your stomach grumbled and Sunghoon visibly smirked. Embarrassed, you chew on the sandwich with a slight frown, taking the food from his hand.

“See? I told you.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s past office hours, what are you still doing here?”

“Why? Can’t I be here at my own company?” He says, clearly amused.

“No, it’s just that, you know, you should be sleeping and preparding for the big day and all that.” You had to give yourself a pat on the back for letting that slip out so smoothly.

Sunghoon doesn’t respond for a couple of seconds, contemplating whether or not to tell you. That he tried to go to bed early, convincing himself that everything was for the best. That all it ever led to was him waking up in the middle of the night, only to imagine you laying in his sheets, body wrapped with his.

That all he ever thought of the duration of his so called wedding preparations was you and you alone.

That he told his father about this whole thing and it had led them to fight and end up in an intense disagreement, only for his father to be ever so stubborn but understanding at the same time.

That his father understood where he was coming from but still decided to push the marriage regardless because it’ll solely benefit the company.

That at the same time, his father and Sunghoon had come on a mutual agreement on marrying Kim Sohee in name only and parting ways after because the woman too, had someone for her own.

That in the end, all you ever thought of were the negative outcomes, thinking it was beneficial for the two of you, not knowing there was a solution.

So Sunghoon doesn’t speak, choosing not to overwhelm you. Instead, he watches as you take small bites of the sandwich and small sips of the coffee.

“Is it good?” He asks, clearly not having to with the way you inhaled the food. You nod, “Thanks, I hadn’t had lunch yet.”

“I know.” Sunghoon still looms over you, his fingertips coming contact with the side of your lips as he sweeped off a piece of the food you ate. You were given not the chance to respond as the moment came all too quick.

“You’ve been overworking.” He mumbles, crossing his arms once more as he observed the way you fumble with the things you needed to prepare. You nod, “I have to make sure your wedding is perfect. I can’t let it fail.”

“Why do you care so much?”

His sudden question caught you off guard, a heavy weight bears on the air as he awaits for a response. Barely looking at him and focusing on typing instead, you heave out a sigh.

Because not caring will make your growing feelings have the chance to prosper.

Because not caring will truly reveal your desires of wanting him, needing him.

And you don’t want that.

“What do you mean? I’m your secretary, sir. It’s only my job to care.”

“Really?”

But Sunghoon knows deep down that wasn’t the case. “Y/N.” You don’t respond. Sunghoon repeats his words with more force, “Y/N, can you look at me?”

You look at him, hoping the vulnerability in your eyes don’t show. “Do you think that time at Paris, the things we did were all a mistake?”

You were quick to answer, “No. I would never think like that. Would you?”

The response that came next came was a surprise.

“I didn’t lie when I said I want you. And I still do.”

“You just want the idea of me sir. When I can’t give anything anymore, things will be useless in the end.”

“That isn’t true.”

“Then tell me what is.”

“I can’t.”

“Why? So it’s really true then?”

“I can’t tell you right now.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Cause—”

“Why, Sunghoon? Because if you’re telling me you can’t tell me because of your feelings, then what about mine? Have you ever thought about mine?”

“Cause it’s all I fucking think of Y/N— Your feelings, my feelings. Us. This. Shit.”

A heavy silence hung in the air once more.

You couldn’t speak. It didn’t help that Sunghoon was there, waiting for a reaction, waiting for something, anything. And when he realize you wouldn’t, he sighs and rakes his hair with his hand, “Do you fucking trust me?”

“It’s hard.”

“Will you try?“ Sunghoon offers a hand, hesitant and doubtful, you take it. “Please?”

And for once, he pulls you to his chest.

He kisses you.

“Please? Just trust me this once?”

It didn’t take long before the ceremony was over and everything was closing its doors.

It’s all a marriage of convenience, Sunghoon reassures you.

Months past, and even through the honeymoon trip set up by their families, Sunghoon reassures you. Through the places they go to, the sites they saw and admired, Sunghoon reassures you that everything he shared, he treasured most with you.

He returns from his trip, greeting you with a boquet of pink lillies in the office door. He’d brought it on the way to his office, countless gasps and stares came his way, assuming it was for Kim Sohee.

But it wasn’t.

It was for you and you only.

Kim Sohee respects this fact, there was no need to argue over such things given that she too, had something of her own. Assumptions were made on your part and you internally had to apologize for being so quick to judge. It was all a mutual agreement, that upon public name, the two were married. But in private, the two had romantic matters of their own.

On your end, it was better that way.

There was no prying nor discrimination with your relationship with Sunghoon, no snoopful ears to disrupt anything you had with him, no jealousy nor bashful comments towards your way.

It was a particular moment months after everything had begun between the two of you, behind closed doors, or particularly, inside Sunghoon’s office— you frequented the place more than usual. You have lunch there, you spend a little more time there during moments where you had nothing to do, you spent late nights working at his office rather than your usual table.

Sunghoon loved the company you gave him. Often times, stirring off work and observing everything you do instead, or getting a bit too nosy and sticking his nose in your tasks.

Like right now.

“Sunghoon, I promise this’ll be the last part. Can you let go for a bit?”

Sunghoon sat beside you, right hand behind your back as the other entertained itself by aimlessly roaming around your thigh. His head nuzzled itself on your shoulder, nose inhaling your scent. H

Contrary to others’ beliefs and assumption, Sunghoon was clingy and stuck like glue whenever no one else was looking over your way. He acted like he wasn’t your boss. He had this habit of touching you discretely, and you bet on hell that he must be some koala during his past life.

Because when he wasn’t touching you or grazing his hand over you, he was staring at you instead.

“I can’t, you’ve been working for hours on that thing. How long will will that end?”

He mumbles, peppering soft kisses down your neck and down to your shoulders.

“In a bit.”

“You said that an hour ago.”

“Really? Did I?”

“You did, can you stop working now?” Sunghoon’s voice sounded like a bit of a whine on your part. You liked him better this way, so attached to you like a little kid, so devoid of his snarky responses and mean comments. Different from the Sunghoon you’ve come to know him from.

Choosing to finally follow his constant whining, you closed your laptop and faced the man who had a slight pout etched upon his features. “Are you always this clingy?” You quip, allowing Sunghoon’s arms to wrap around your waist. You held his face in your hands.

“I’m not, don’t tell anyone.”

“What if I do?” You tease him. Sunghoon tickled the spot just below your chest. “You won’t.”

You laugh uncontrollably as Sunghoon tickled you in places he knew you were ticklish in. A soft grin escapes his features as your laughter continues to bubble from his constant tickling. “Sunghoon— stop!” You laugh.

He grins, making you think he had stopped by pulling his hands away momentarily, only to attach itself back to you.

The ruckus eventually dies down though, and Sunghoon retracted his hands back and settle them on the curves of your waist. The large grin that adorned his features was inevitable, it felt like he had stars in his eyes.

“You done teasing me now?” He says, you laugh. “I wasn’t teasing you! Only stating facts.”

“Oh, but you were.”

“Wasn’t.”

“Were.”

“Wasn’t.”

“Were.”

“Wasn’t—”

Soft, plump lips crashed itself upon yours. He shuts you up with a kiss, the impact causing you to stumble ever so slightly.

He really just knows the effect he has on you.

Sunghoon pulls back, connecting his forehead with yours.

“Can you say that again?”

You pout, defeated by his tactics of getting through your heart. He knows the right tactics, the right time and place to make your heart jump out of your chest.

“Whatever, have some little respect to ypur secretary.”

And you? Well, let’s just say you had the secretary weapon to use on him.

Sunghoon chuckles, caressing your supple cheeks with a large smile.

“You’re so cute, baby.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ END *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

EXTRAS!

“I think a touch of pink would go best with your skirt.”

“No, peach would definitely be better.”

“Baby, what’s the difference, exactly?”

Piles of fabric lay within your fingertips, a pastel color for each their own. Blue, green, pink— aha!

“See? Peach looks much lighter, while pink is just, well, pink.”

“Very detailed description.”

Sunghoon turns to the small little figure, staring at the two of you with clueless eyes. She tilts her head as her eyes feigned curiosity as to what the two of you were arguing about.

Cuteness agression much?

“Jimin, which one would you like best for your skirt? The peach or the pink one?” You hold two pieces of fabric in fronf of you, expectant that she’ll choose yours, because you refuse to lose to Park Sunghoon.

“Purple, I want purple, mommy.”

Oh.

Sunghoon laughs exasperatedly, clutching his stomach as he pointed at you, “See! I told you our choices wouldn’t matter!” He quips. You frown, “This isn’t funny.”

“So purple it is? Are you sure?” You talked to the child— your child in a high pitched voice while Sunghoon gets one of irritation. Jimin nods, “I don’t like pink, or kroral.”

You smile, thinking of exactly the same thing as your husband: so fucking cute!

Suddenly, soft wails and cries could be heard from your shared bedroom. It was your son, Park Junsoo, awake from his usual nap. You and Sunghoon looked at each other, before eventually, he’s the one that loses the staring battle and he goes to the bedroom to pick your son up.

He comes back with a wailing little baby in his arms, gently cooing until he calms down.

“This little guy’s such a crybaby…” Sunghoon mumbles, rocking the baby in his arms, side to side, back and forth. The little stars that adorned his eyes were evident as he looked at his son with much love and adoration.

Park Jimin, your daughter who is seven years old, had facial features similar to you, but her personality came from Sunghoon. Calm, collected, and composed. While Park Junsoo had gotten his face from his father, but from the way he whined and clinged, you could tell this child was going to become a bit of a nagger, much like you.

“I wonder where he got it from.” Sunghoon teases, looking over your direction.

“Oh shut up.” You roll your eyes at him.

This was your little family now.

A home filled with so much love and gentleness you wouldn’t have things any other way.

And truth be told, this was the thing you love most about Park Sunghoon. Always so patient, so kind and gentle— the epitome of the perfect everything.

Before, you always used to think he was some sort of spoiled brat who wanted everything to go his way.

But now, he is the father of your two children, sacrificing most of his time and effort despite coming home from work exhausted and tired. Just to see you smile, just to see your family smile.

Life is beautiful on your part, so, so, beautiful.

For years on end, you no longer survived on cup noodles or anything instant, constantly living in life of luxury as Sunghoon spoils your family to death after inheriting the family business.

Park Sunghoon knows the way to your heart, to everything about you, down from the tips of your toes to your whole entire soul.

“Finally got them to go to bed, god.”

It was past midnight now, Jimin had finally run out of energy to stop jumping around bend and close her eyes. While Junsoo had stopped his little fits of crying and dozed off. It was exhausting, taking care of two kids at the same time.

Most days, when Sunghoon was at work (you had to stop momentarily to take care of your younger), the routine was ten times harder. Constantly in a back and forth motion to tend to your childrens’ wants and needs— it was an endless battle in an entire day.

But when Sunghoon was with you during the weekends, taking care of your children became much more bearable and somewhat enjoyable. Partly because the task was split and partly because you got to spend time with your husband.

“I think we need to go to sleep now. I’m tired from all that.” Sunghoon agrees, tiredness also evident in his features. The two of you proceeded to your nightly routine in silence, battery recharging bit by bit.

Then, you settled down in your shared bed with his arms wrapped around yours.

It was cold, but the warmth of the blankets and his body heat gave you a sense of comfort and reassurance, the kind that had your eyes blinking in utter drowsiness. “So warm…” You mumble in his embrace as Sunghoon traced circular patterns around your back.

He lifted your pajama shirt just slightly, allowing him to grasp the exposed part. “Thank you, baby.” He whispers, kissing your forehead ever so gently. “Mmh? For what?”

“For this. I’m grateful for you and this beautiful family we’ve built.”

You smiled, “Are you happy to have me?”

Sunghoon nuzzled his head in your neck, inhaling the fresh soap you’d showered with. Then, he peppered soft kisses to your shoulder, down to your collarbone. “More than. I love you so much.”

“Sunghoon, just wondering…”

Sunghoon hums, you feel the drowsiness start to make its way to his features. “Those days at the office, you know, when you were being mean and an ass and all that.”

Sunghoon chuckles, nuzzling his head in your neck as you tease, “Why’d you suddenly become all nice and offer a ride home?”

“I’m not a complete ass you know.”

“Well, you were.”

“I was but—” He chuckles, pulling away from your embrace slightly and pecking your forehead, your nose, your lips. “Yeji kind of beat me to reality with treating you properly.”

Surprised, you ask, “Yeji? She did that?”

Sunghoon nods, “She said she saw how you looked when you left the company and it made her feel bad.”

“How do I look then?”

“Tired. Anxious. You know, stressed from dealing with my stuff.”

“Ugly?”

“Mmmmm, never ugly baby.” Sunghoon’s lips ghosted above yours, and it didn’t take long before he kissed you with such love. The kiss was slow, careful, and filled with sleepiness that you chuckled in the midst of it.

“Always pretty.” He mumbles. You grin, “Always pretty?”

Without any more words said, Park Sunghoon nodded and soon dozed off to sleep with a large grin adorning his features. He relaxed against your touch and your touch alone, no longer was he the Park Sunghoon that had the entire weight of the world on his shoulders.

You shared that weight with him.

So you kissed the top of his head, ruffling his soft hair within your fingertips.

“I love you too.”

[ingredientsonline]

Top Trends in Plant-Based Ingredients

[pearlsmith25]

Frozen Processed Food Market Wonders: Elevating Everyday Dining Experiences

Frozen processed food includes ready-to-eat meals, pizza, meat products, fish products, frozen desserts, fruits & vegetables, potato products, and soups. These foods allow consumers to prepare complete meals with minimal preparation time. Growing urbanization and changing lifestyles have increased the demand for convenience foods. Consumers prefer frozen processed foods owing to their long shelf life and easy preparation.

The frozen processed food market is estimated to be valued at US$ 167115.0 Mn in 2023 and is expected to exhibit a CAGR of 4.8% over the forecast period 2023 to 2030, as highlighted in a new report published by Coherent Market Insights. Market Dynamics: Increasing number of working women population in developing countries is driving the market growth. Frozen processed foods save time required for cooking and are easy to prepare even for busy individuals. According to recent surveys, over 50% of women in urban areas are working professionals which has increased the demand for convenience foods such as frozen processed meals and snacks. In addition, rising disposable income is another major factor fueling the market growth. Higher spending power allow customers to spend more on processed and ready-to-eat foods. However, increasing health awareness regarding usage of preservatives in frozen foods may hamper the market growth. Customers are shifting towards fresh and homemade food products. SWOT Analysis Strength: The frozen processed food market has high convenience as these foods have long shelf life and do not require refrigeration at consumer end. It saves time for working professionals and families. These foods are readily available in stores and online. Weakness: Processed foods are high in preservatives, salt, and fat content which can negatively impact health. These foods also tend to be more expensive than fresh foods. Opportunity: Rising health consciousness is increasing demand for frozen foods with no preservatives and labels such as organic, vegan, gluten free. Focus on innovation can help companies launch new product lines catering to evolving consumer needs and tastes. Threats: Strict regulatory norms can increase manufacturing costs. Growing adoption of fresh and unpackaged foods also poses threat to sales of frozen processed foods. Key Takeaways The global frozen processed food market is expected to witness high growth, exhibiting CAGR of 4.8% over the forecast period, due to increasing demand for convenience foods among working professionals and families with hectic schedules. The market size is estimated to reach US$ 167115.0 Mn in 2023. Regional analysis North America dominates the global market and is expected to continue its dominance, accounting for around 35% market share in 2023. This is attributed to increasing popularity of refrigerated snacks, appetizers and other frozen foods. Asia Pacific is anticipated to register fastest growth owing to rising disposable incomes, growing middle class population and shifting preferences towards Westernized diet in countries like China and India. Key players operating in the frozen processed food market are Nestle S.A., ConAgra Foods, Inc., Kraft Foods Group, Inc., Mother Dairy Fruit & Vegetable Pvt Ltd, BRF S.A., General Mills, Inc., Maple Leaf Foods Inc., Tyson Foods, Inc., and Unilever Plc. Players are focusing on strategic expansions, new product launches and adoption of sustainable packaging to strengthen market presence and cater to rising demand from health-conscious consumers.

[sunflowerdigs]

Writers generally write plots in order to take a character from point a to point b. For instance, for Buck's bisexual discovery episode, rather than thinking "I'm going to have Buck meet this hot pilot and see what happens", Tim probably thought "I want Buck to come out as bisexual. How do I believably do that?"

People keep saying that if 911 is going to move forward, it needs to start bringing on new blood and integrating it into the cast. Well, this season, Ravi has been spotlighted multiple times. But in order to bring on someone new, someone else has to leave or fall back a bit. Technically, Tim could move one of the younger characters to another shift, but I doubt any of the younger actors want their screentime cut. However, Peter has stated that he's not into doing all the stunts anymore (and he looked super miserable shivering under a towel shooting the cruise line story) and that he might want to spend less time shooting generally. After all, he's getting a nice, fat producer cut now. He could probably shoot part-time and still make the kind of money he wants, and that would free up some budget for another character.

Additionally, unlike all of the other characters, Bobby has options that would keep him within the world of the firefam and would give 911 the opportunity to explore new parts of the first responder world. He is senior enough to run or be nominated for a senior position in LAFD, one that operates more behind the scenes, structuring budgets, communicating with news outlets, creating trainings, etc. That's a whole new world for the show. It keeps Bobby in the mix enough that we could occassionally see him show up at the firehouse for dinner, but creates a much less demanding shooting schedule for Peter.

But Bobby would never go for that. He would have to retire and then get bored. So, the question becomes "How do we take Bobby from gung-ho fire captain to someone who voluntarily gives up his post?" After all, s7 ended with him finding new energy for the job. A near-death experience like the one with the car pile-up wouldn't cut it. Because Bobby has faced those multiple times over the course of the series and hasn't considered giving up. It just wouldn't be believable to the audience and wouldn't be dramatic enough to cause the kind of shake-up that Tim wants to do. So, what would be?

Well. What if Bobby and everyone Bobby loves had to think he was dead for multiple days? What if the audience had to think that? What if viewers and the firefam had to watch Athena and her children (including Clifford) grieve him? If Bobby came back after something like that, absolutely, both the audience and the firefam would buy his wanting to finally retire. Especially if you throw a dream house into the mix? And Bobby suddenly desperately wanting to live as he's dying? Folks may end up messaging Tim on Facebook demanding that Bobby retire RIGHT THE FUCK NOW.

So. That's just some food for thought as to why Tim might do a death and resurrection. Additionally, whenever any character has a drawn out near-death experience it gives the writers permission to make big character shifts very quickly as characters process their grief. Characters are allowed to look at their lives, realize tomorrow is not promised, and choose things they may not have before the death. Those changes are even more believable if the audience has to mourn the character who almost dies with the characters experiencing a shift. So. You know. If, say, the show was going to have a character, I don't know, recontextualize his relationship with his best male friend and realize that choosing him would be choosing joy? Or if another character who had never stood up for a leadership position before were to suddenly want to do that? A major death that the audience felt alongside those characters might ease those transitions.

Think about it.