#little blind Leo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovelyhan · 2 months

Text

— melting point ⟢

rumor has it that icy department head of pledis insurance has something going on with her loyal secretary, wonwoo. well, she does—it's just not the kind of behind-closed-doors business one would expect for them to partake in.

★ FEATURING; secretary!wonwoo x afab!oc

★ WORD COUNT; 12.3k words

★ TAGS; coworkers to lovers, revenge fic, angst, smut

★ WARNINGS; blackmailing, manipulation, mentions of past bullying, graphic sexual content (MINORS DNI)

★ NOTES; hi... it's been forever, hasn't it? i missed tumblr a lot, and have decided to grace the tags with this fic after months of radio silence heheh ! this was a commissioned piece on twt which i tweaked to fit my tumblr audience better! cheers to 5k followers even in my absence t__t you guys are the best!

★ PS; i'm sorry i can't be bothered to dig up my taglist and tag those who filled it up T T

There’s a saying in PLEDIS Insurance that goes: enjoy your coffee early because once the Ice Queen is in, it’ll turn just as cold as she is.

Of course, the words were merely thrown around in jest. Something that bored employees come up with in the break room whenever they’re careless enough to think their little jokes won’t reach said ice queen’s ears. But still—they’re just jokes. As long as they worked enough to satisfy their salaries’ worth, Emma the Ice Queen would always turn a blind eye. She might be cold, but she isn’t completely heartless.

Most of the time.

“Good morning, ma’am,” her secretary, Wonwoo, greeted with a curt nod as she entered her office.

Emma scoffed before setting her things down on her work desk, the frown on her face only worsening when she sees the elegantly wrapped gift box in front of her. “What's this?”

Wonwoo swallowed thickly, like he was nervous. Wonwoo never gets nervous.

“We have an...unforeseen circumstance,” he prefaced before tapping away on the iPad in his arms. “Sir Leo from the Choi group wants to pursue you.”

“Unforeseen?” Emma repeated. “Wonwoo, this is completely foreseen. Isn't it our from the start is to make them fall in love, only for us to expose their dirty secrets in the end?”

He looked as if he wanted to agree. But after turning the screen of his iPad so Emma could see the article written on some shoddy newsletter, her brows furrowed together in confusion.

A Race for the Inheritance: How the Choi Group’s Next Generation of Ambitious Youngbloods Will Do Everything to Get Their Fill of Old Money.

The title itself didn’t give Emma much context of what exactly was making Wonwoo—her ever-composed secretary—lose his composure. It’s natural to see the sons and daughters of a powerful business conglomerate fight each other for their rights to the family inheritance. But after reading through what the rest of the article had to offer, the pieces of the puzzle suddenly started to fit.

“They're seeing who gets to get married first?” Emma laughed incredulously before handing the iPad back to Wonwoo. “Does Leo really think he can get me to become his lover—even more so his wife—after everything he did to me in high school?”

Wonwoo breathed in deeply. “Miss Emma, we both know the answer to that. If it were all up to you, you could easily put him to shame and reject him. But his interests somewhat align with the director’s interests as well…”

Ah. Her father’s interests.

“No,” she answered sharply. “Even if he kicks me out of my position, I’m not going to be wed to that prick.”

“Are you sure about that?” Wonwoo sighed before adjusting his glasses. “Miss Emma, we both know you love your work more than anything. And you're chronically attached to this company even if you despise the executives. Sir Leo has good leverage over you, sad to say.”

There was something irritating about hearing Wonwoo call his ex-best friend Sir, as if he was underneath some scumbag of a human being like Leo. But then again, years have passed since then. Lots of things have changed.

But Emma’s grudges hold steadfast, still.

“Hmph, whatever.” She dismissed the matter with a nonchalant wave before unwrapping the gift box in front of her. “Was this from Leo, too? Is he on a deadline or something?”

“Hmm, first one that gets married before December gets the rights to the inheritance,” Wonwoo informed her as he picked the clutter of ribbons off Emma’s desk and pocketed them in his coat for later disposal. “Do you want me to look up the progress of his siblings and cousins? We can sabotage him while it's still early.”

Emma didn’t respond right away—preoccupied with unwrapping Leo's so-called gift. But when she sees a red velvet box with an engagement ring and a folded letter inside, she begrudgingly realized that Leo wouldn’t be as easy a target as her other high school bullies.

No, this man really was rotten to the core.

By the time you’re reading this, I’m sure you already heard the news. You know what to do, right, Emma?

Or should I say, wifey? ;)

“Send this back to him. Now.”

Wonwoo nodded obediently as Emma pushed Leo's cursed gift box away from her. “Alright. Anything else I can do for you? Like…have someone plant a snake in his bedroom or something?”

Despite the sour mood that Leo undoubtedly put her in this morning, Wonwoo's little idea of a joke made the corners of her mouth turn up into a small smile. The offer was tempting, but in the end, she shook her head and booted up the PC on her desk instead.

“As much as I want his death by a snake bite to headline the news, Leo doesn’t deserve to get out of this the easy way.” Emma muttered as she started browsing through the hard-drive she’d hooked up onto the computer. “And lucky for us, I finally got the evidence to send his suspiciously prosperous career down into a spiral.”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow before taking a peek behind her. “What's that? Money laundering records? Tax fraud?”

No. It was really something as simple as—

“Footage of a mass orgy he participated in,” Emma casually told her secretary as she clicked on the only video on the hard drive. “Might not look like a big deal compared to what we had to go through with Ezra, but Leo belongs to a family of devout Catholics. Good thing your contact from Leo's favorite bar had some use. All I did was ask around and he quickly spilled all the details with the right amount of money.”

Wonwoo chuckled as he flashed her an impressed look. “As far as I know, I’m the one who’s supposed to do the dirty work for you. Why are you directly involving yourself in matters you can leave to me?”

The lewd video continued to play on her screen—muted, of course—and one could easily make out Leo Choi's face amongst the crowd of sex-depraved freaks. Once they sent this over anonymously to each and every person who might think that scumbag deserved to inherit his family’s wealth, it would be all over for him.

“‘Cause we’re a team, Wonwoo,” she chuckled. “You’ve done your fair share of work when we took down Gavin and Ezra. But admittedly…I've got more bones to pick with Leo. I think it’s only fair for me to orchestrate his downfall with my own two hands.”

“Right…” Wonwoo agreed with a hint of fondness in his tone that completely went over Emma’s head—far too triumphant with her newfound ammunition.

“We’re a team.”

But it wasn’t always that way.

Wonwoo was actually more deeply involved in Emma’s mission to exact revenge on the people who’ve wronged her years ago than one would otherwise expect. He’d been best friends with Leo since they were kids, and when they eventually met Gavin and Ezra in their high school basketball team, the four of them were quite inseparable.

But despite being his best friend, Wonwoo knew that Leo could be quite…off-putting with his behavior sometimes.

“Hey, look at that,” Sixteen year-old Leo scoffed before gesturing towards the loud girl earning amused stares in the cafeteria. “She's so fucking loud. Is she the new transfer student?”

Gavin snickered as he took a bite out of his lunch. “How'd she even get in here? Our tuition isn't a joke, and she doesn't really look like she can afford it. The kid of a maid, maybe?”

“Or she could be one of those financial scholarship kids,” Ezra pitched in with a shrug. “Though she doesn't look very bright if we're being honest.”

Wonwoo didn’t offer anything to the conversation, merely eating his food quietly as his friends talked smack about the new transfer student in their class. Emma Rodriguez was like a piece of meat thrown into a pit of vipers. Some might like her—like the classmates who were howling with laughter because of her antics—but others looked at her with disdain.

She didn’t belong to any wealthy well-known families like every other kid in their grade. The girl simply popped out of nowhere like an eyesore, according to Leo. Wonwoo didn’t really mind her presence though. She made the boring monotone of his school days a bit more bearable with her energy.

But what Wonwoo thought was just his friends’ surface-level dislike for a girl who behaved differently from the others in their grade turned out to be something else.

Something worse.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew what bullying was, and was well-aware that what his friends constantly did to Emma wasn’t something that normal high schoolers did. Leo was the most vicious about it, and Wonwoo never really got to know his reasons for doing all those horrible things.

But whenever they spotted Emma horsing around in the hallways, Leo would always be the first one to come up to her—calling her names like fraud, gold digger, and the like. Gavin and Ezra followed each and every time, and they were usually the ones who pushed her around for no real reason.

And Wonwoo? Wonwoo was the one who always stood a few feet away every time his friends decided they were in the mood to pick on the transfer student. The one who always stayed quiet and pretended nothing unsightly was happening in front of him.

The one whose gaze Emma always tried to silently catch, hoping he’d be the one to stop his friends from harassing her.

But he never did.

That cycle of three boys bullying a once bright and bubbly transfer student became commonplace. Before their third year in high school came to a close, Emma suddenly vanished off the radar. She didn’t attend their classes, nor was she there in the completion ceremonies at the end of every school year.

Most of the kids around Wonwoo didn’t really give two shits about her sudden disappearance. Word around the street was that she transferred out because of the heavy harassment she was getting, not just from his friends, but also the rest of the students from their grade. They didn’t think Emma was funny because of her silly antics and loud jokes anymore.

Everyone started to collectively think of her as a nuisance, and the fact that she had no familial connections to protect herself with only fed into the senseless yet oh-so popular trend of crushing Emma Rodriguez’s hopes and dreams into the ground.

It was almost like Wonwoo was the only person in their entire grade who felt the tiniest bit of pity for her. But he told himself long ago that someone like him had no right to feel sorry for someone he never bothered trying to help.

The years passed by in a flash. After Emma’s disappearance, Wonwoo quit the basketball team and completely cut off his friends and everyone else who actively hurt her. He didn’t really know why either—all he knew was that he couldn’t stomach the idea of keeping those connections despite what they drove Emma to do.

Of course, he knew he wasn’t completely innocent either. But it wasn’t too late to be a decent person, right?

Wonwoo simply went through the motions of graduating high school, then college, before pursuing a career in the vicious world of the corporate hierarchy. But instead of gunning for executive positions like his fellow fresh grads dared to dream, he worked his way up without using his family’s prestige to his own advantage.

In fact, Wonwoo realized he liked working closely with his bosses. That’s why he became the designated secretary to all the finance department heads who walked through the doors of PLEDIS Insurance. He was content with being a jack-of-all-trades kind of guy who’s at the beck and call of someone else—a tool who worked on the sidelines. He never really wanted to be the face of any company anyway.

But then, in his fifth year on the job, he was told that there were a couple of changes in PLEDIS’ executive board. The boss he’d been working under was set to retire and he’d be replaced with a new one—someone younger and full of promise, as the head of human resources dramatically explained to him.

It wasn’t really a deal breaker or anything. As long as Wonwoo got paid, he’d gladly work for even the most terrible of people in this industry.

But on the day his new boss was set to start, he was haunted by a ghost from the past instead.

Wonwoo hasn’t spared a single thought for Emma Rodriguez in God knows how long. Yet the moment she stepped into the office, he recognized her almost immediately. There was no trace of that girl people called gold digger and other derogatory names because of her appearance. This was a woman with her head held high—someone who oozed confidence in every stride with a gaze sharper than her winged eyeliner.

Yet Wonwoo couldn’t be mistaken. This really was Emma Rodriguez.

He wondered if she remembered him, too. The boy who kept quiet about those who bullied her in those few crucial years of her life. Wonwoo even considered apologizing for not doing anything to help her when he should have.

“Ah, Wonwoo Jeon?” Emma repeated his name with a dismissive air, almost like she was wholly uninterested in him. “The one who just watched when Gavin Kim pushed me in the muddy courtyard at school? The one who pretended not to see when Leo Choi splashed paint all over my uniform? Of course I remember you.”

God. Was this her exacting retribution?

For the next few days since she came into the office, Wonwoo helped Emma get used to the feel of things in the Finance Department. At least, that was his intention.

From the looks of it, Emma already knew the ins-and-outs of managing a company’s cash inflow and outflow, as well as the other gritty, more technical details that came with accounting for each and every cent. She managed to prepare and present several sets of data that his previous boss had trouble organizing to the current board of directors within two days’ time.

Her work ethic was admirable—she got the job done quickly and efficiently, and that made her earn the respect of her subordinates faster than Wonwoo had seen them warm up to their previous bosses. It would have been the perfect relationship between the new department head and her employees, if it weren’t for Emma’s stone cold behavior towards other people.

Not only did she look different from the Emma he knew in high school, but she acted differently too. Wonwoo couldn’t picture this Emma purposely making a fool out of herself just to make the people around her laugh. This Emma wanted the entire team to get the work handed to them done as soon as possible, and if they did, the most they’d receive in return is a mere nod in approval and nothing else.

It was for that reason that employees would start calling her the Ice Queen. Though she wasn’t some tyrant that gave people an unreasonable workload—she was actually very lenient and fair about the division of tasks—her people skills needed a little work.

That or Emma was purposely shutting everyone out with her chilly attitude.

Wonwoo had a few clues as to why she’d want to do that, but he’s a secretary, not a therapist. The only thing he could do about it was to keep his silence.

But then came a day when Emma asked him to come into her office to do something he completely expected from her but didn’t at the same time.

“Are you still in touch with Leo, Gavin, and Ezra?” she asked him, not even bothering to look up from the report she’s reading off her PC.

The question caught Wonwoo off-guard and it was obvious Emma caught on to his reaction if the tiny smirk that curved across her lips was anything to go by. Still, he took it in stride—breathing in through his nose as he thought about his answer.

He hasn’t been in touch with any of them since his high school graduation. All their attempts at reaching out to Wonwoo to invite him for a quick game of ball or a round of drinks somewhere in the city were all ignored. Not even turned down—ignored.

Leo was the most persistent about it. After all, they were best friends. But after several years of Wonwoo not even bothering to give their invites a single glance, Leo stopped reaching out altogether. Wonwoo's life became a lot more peaceful since he cut ties with them, and he never really regretted the decision to do so.

But perhaps the universe really was telling him to pay the price for his past inaction now that Emma was bringing up the past on a regular Wednesday afternoon.

“No, ma’am,” he told her honestly. “Do you want me to reach out to them? Their contact details are pretty easy to get our hands on.”

Emma sighed quietly before meeting his gaze, an unreadable look hovering across her face. “Mmm. Yeah, I’d like that. But aren't you going to ask why I want to contact them again?”

He wanted to, but Wonwoo learned that in his line of work, the last thing he should do was ask questions. It made him wonder if Emma was purposely setting him up on some sort of conversational bear trap, but seeing as he didn’t really have anything to lose by giving, he chose to relent.

“...Why?”

The silence of her office rang in his ears as Emma typed away on her keyboard. It was a mechanical one with tactile switches that matched the color of her desktop wallpaper. He didn’t take her to be someone who cared enough about aesthetics to that degree, but then again, Wonwoo never really got a chance to get to know her back then.

He was too much of a coward to do so.

Once she was done, Emma got up from her ergonomic chair (which also matched her desktop setup), leveling her gaze with Wonwoo's even if the latter was easily a head taller than she was. Something about the glint in her eyes made him swallow the lump in his throat. Not to mention that sweet yet chilly smile that graced her bright red lips.

“It’s really simple, Wonwoo,” she told him with a laugh.

“I want revenge.”

And that’s how their little team was formed.

It was a two-person job. Emma entrusted Wonwoo with digging up the information she needed about the three men she wanted to bring down, all while she was in charge of putting their plans into motion by heading over to the front lines.

Gavin was an easy target. Unlike the other two, he’s the only one who pursued professional basketball and for a while, he amassed quite the number of fans and admirers because of his outstanding plays. What’s more was that he managed to wife up a beauty queen who’s already conquered the international stage a few years back. Now with their first baby on the way, one would think that Gavin Kim has a picture perfect life.

But further down the road, talk about how he’s actually a womanizing wife beater started to seep out of the cracks and crevices of the athletic industry. The allegations were serious, but no one really bothered batting an eye. It’s normal. Lots of athletes are like that. We can't do anything about it.

It was easy to get a hold of which gym Gavin frequents to maintain his physique. He preferred working out in public facilities instead of the one provided for his team because it gave him all the freedom to ogle and flirt with other women who just happened to be hitting the gym on days he was on the prowl.

Wonwoo even added a little footnote in the file he prepared that said likes to engage in post-workout coitus in the shower rooms. Emma rolled her eyes in disgust when she read it, but made sure to keep it in mind.

The day finally came when she’d collect enough evidence to ruin Gavin’s career. Emma hasn’t dropped by the gym in a while—work having sapped her energy too much to let her psych herself back into working out. But she realized she didn’t have to act out too much because the moment she started operating the treadmill right next to Gavin’s, he was already checking her out.

He didn’t seem to recognize who she was, unlike Wonwoo. But then again Gavin was easily the stupidest out of her trio of high school bullies. This man was all brawn and no brains, which was why it was all too easy for Emma to seduce him in the showers of this shoddy gym not thirty minutes since she’d arrived.

It wasn’t the most pleasant experience. The last thing Emma wanted was to have this idiotic man inside of her so she offered to go on her knees and blow him instead—something that Gavin was all too happy to relent to.

He didn’t even boast a cock of considerable size. It probably wasn’t any longer than her middle finger, and for a split second, she wondered why his beauty queen wife stayed with him despite having a cock that didn’t back up his cocky attitude. It was probably the money.

Emma didn’t waste much time though. Wonwoo visited this gym only a few hours prior to plant a bug somewhere inside the specific shower stall they were currently occupying. She just had to hope she and Gavin were positioned well enough so the camera would get a full view of what they were doing.

It was the longest twenty minutes of Emma’s life, and she had to go home right away to disinfect her mouth about ten times, but hey. All in the name of vengeance, right?

At around eight in the evening on that same Saturday, her phone lit up with an email notification from Wonwoo.

From: Wonwoo Jeon Subject: CLASSIFIED Good evening, Miss Emma. I hope this message finds you well. I retrieved our bug from the gym earlier today and extracted the videos taken before properly disposing of it. Attached to this email is the MP4 file of our evidence against Mr. Gavin Kim. Around the time this message arrives to you, I have simultaneously sent said evidence to Mr. Kim’s managers, sponsors, teammates, other colleagues, and of course, his wife. The only difference between their emails and yours is that this is a self-destructing message. Once you’ve closed this window, it will be deleted from your inbox without a trace. So if you are interested in watching the video below, best save it to your device of choice for better perusal. If you have any further questions and concerns, I am merely a text message away. Regards, Wonwoo Jeon Secretary, Finance and Logistics Department PLEDIS Insurance

Like hell she was going to watch it.

The moment Emma finished reading through Wonwoo's overly formal email, she quickly exited the window and, true to his word, the message itself had disappeared. Despite being a fairly new player to the game, she had to commend all the precautions Wonwoo was setting to make sure her plans were a success.

It made her wonder if his previous bosses have also asked him to do shady things under the company’s nose in the past. Whether or not that's true, she was reaping the benefits of his expertise, so she had no room for complaints.

As long as she had Wonwoo, she’d get to punish everyone who wronged her without fail.

Gavin’s downfall followed soon after.

Tabloids were their best friend in that scenario. The thumbnail of the video that Wonwoo spread around like some virus that wouldn’t stop replicating headlined every single paper, talking about how one of the most promising basketball stars of their generation had fallen prey to his own vices.

It was a good thing that not only was Wonwoo careful enough to not leave digital footprints as he sent out those emails, but he also edited the video to keep Emma’s identity a secret. As Gavin’s world started to crumble before his eyes—him being kicked off the starting roster of the team, his wife leaving him behind, and the public execution of his reputation—Emma simply shared a bottle of aged wine from Tuscany with the man who helped her pull off a wonderful performance.

“You’re not too bad,” she mused as she took a small sip, crossing her legs from where she’s seated unceremoniously on the edge of her desk. “You're surprisingly more on-board with this plan than I thought. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were never friends with Gavin in the first place.”

Wonwoo retained his stoic demeanor, not having touched the glass Emma offered him simply because it was against company regulations to intoxicate himself on the job. “If my boss tells me to ruin someone's life, I'm mandated to do it. I’m just doing what’s written on my job description, ma’am.”

Emma’s lips stretched into a grin as she threw her head back with a laugh. She leaned in closer to Wonwoo, who seemed wholly unfazed by the fact that the gesture granted him an ample view of her cleavage through her blouse.

“Does your job description cover watching and editing your boss' sex scandal so you can mass send it to hundreds of people?” She giggled before leaning back to take another sip of her drink. “You’re in the green for now, Wonwoo. Keep it up and I might just have a pay raise arranged for you with HR if our next escapade is a success.”

He hummed in understanding. “Who’s next?”

In usual Emma fashion, she didn’t give him a straight answer right away. Instead, she hopped back to the carpeted floor of her office—not even wobbling in those thin heels she’s wearing—before rounding her desk to access her computer.

“Have you been watching TV lately? Primetime soap operas?” she asked him as she clicked away on her screen.

Wonwoo shook his head. “They don’t really interest me, ma’am.”

“I figured they wouldn’t. But this might.”

Emma gestured for him to peer at her monitor and Wonwoo wordlessly followed suit, getting up from his seat and standing behind her. Flashed on the screen was an article from a more reputable news outlet that featured two co-stars who played the main couple in a popular network’s newest drama.

“Ezra Lee and Alaina Park…” Wonwoo muttered under his breath before his eyes flickered to Emma. “You have any leads I can work with?”

His boss chuckled before looking up at him with an expectant smile. “Someone's determined. I never thought I’d get to see someone so eager to do the dirty work for me.”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Miss Emma, I'm not sure if you're aware but desk work gets boring sometimes. You’re right. This is a lot more interesting.”

“Alright, then,” Emma chuckled before retrieving both of their wine glasses and handing Wonwoo's back to him. “Unlike Gavin, I don't have a lot of surface-level leads with Ezra. He’s a celebrity—their reputation needs to be squeaky clean, so it makes sense why I can’t dig up anything about him through regular means. But this should be a piece of cake for you, right?”

Wonwoo stared at the bright red liquor inside the expensive glass, gaze darting to the wicked smile playing on Emma’s lips. If he looked a little closer, he would be able to tell that the shade of her lipstick matches the color of the liquor in her hands.

He took it from her grasp with a sigh, clinking the edges of their glasses together before downing the entire thing in one fell swoop. The wine was aged well, and had somewhat of a sweet aftertaste, but despite the appealing flavor, Wonwoo reminded himself to never drink on the job ever again.

“I’ll get back to you once I have the information you need.”

Wonwoo swiftly left Emma’s office after that little victory party. Even with his new sideline of being his boss’s lead henchman, he still had a lot of work to do for PLEDIS Insurance. And that included telling the other employees to quit horsing around in the break room when their designated lunch break ended hours ago.

“Sir Wonwoo,” one of said employees, Soonyoung, snickered before throwing an arm over Wonwoo's shoulders. “You've been hanging out in Miss Emma's office pretty frequently. Is there something going on? You became close real quickly.”

“Yeah” said one Seokmin, who’s still snacking on a wafer despite Wonwoo's scolding. “Boss, we know you're not the fuck-your-way-up kind of guy, but who knows, right? But with your position right now, do you really need it?”

Seungkwan, the last member of their unruly trio, slapped Seokmin’s arm with a scowl. “Hey! Do you really have to say it to his face? Oh, boss, if you make a report about these two, please know I have nothing to do with whatever they're saying.”

Soonyoung snickered. “Are you sure about that? Weren't you the one who first noticed that Sir Wonwoo was stepping inside Miss Emma's office more frequently—”

“Hey! Boss told us to scram, didn't he?! Let's go.”

Seungkwan quickly ushered his two friends out of the break room, scolding them in a hushed tone before they all went back to their respective cubicles. Wonwoo shook his head with a sigh, muttering something about inevitable rumors as he made himself a cup of coffee.

Was that how they perceived Wonwoo’s sudden closeness with the department head? That he was fucking Emma in the solitude of her office? Well, the idea of a boss having illicit relations with their secretary wasn’t too far-fetched. He’s heard about how the head of the Advertising Department gets frisky with his secretary through the corporate grapevine. But just because it was a popular trope among the employees’ strange fantasies, it didn’t mean it applied to himself and Emma as well.

They were strictly professional: he did the dirty work and she paid him in full. That was all there was to it.

(But what people don’t know was that editing Gavin’s scandal wasn’t exactly the walk in the park Emma thought it was.

Despite being one of the most indifferent people in the company, Wonwoo was still a man. Seeing his boss, whose body would be coveted by anyone who dared to want her, in such a compromising position excited an…unexpected physiological reaction out of him.

His resolve was as sturdy as steel, however. Instead of taking care of the obvious problem in his pants as he edited the scandalous video, Wonwoo dealt with it by taking a long, cold shower until all the blood that rushed down south started circulating properly again.

He told himself not to think about it come morning.)

“A drug den?”

Even Emma was baffled by the news that Wonwoo brought her the following week—a scowl of disbelief permanently etched on her face as she scanned the file her secretary prepared for her. Wonwoo merely stood at her side, waiting for her to finish going through the data he’s gathered.

And he sure hoped she understood every single word printed on it. He practically risked his life trying to investigate Ezra’s secret business. No wonder it was so hard to dig up any dirt on him—dead men tell no tales after all.

“This is…” Emma swallowed thickly before continuing, “way above my expectations. If he was just getting faded on his own with a private dealer, I'd understand. Lots of celebrities do recreational drugs. But for him to head an entire operation? Where'd he find the time on top of his taping schedules?”

Wonwoo sighed. “I would’ve been able to investigate further if his men weren't so meticulous. They're fiercely loyal to Ezra. Couldn’t bribe him like we did with Gavin’s gym coach.”

“And you made sure to keep your identity under lockdown?”

“Positive.”

Emma drummed her fingers across the smooth surface of her work desk—brows furrowed as she stared into nothingness. Though they’ve only been working together for roughly six months at most, Wonwoo knew her well enough to realize she hit a wall.

It made him wonder if this was where she would draw the line. Their success with Gavin gave them both an unexpected high, sure, but Wonwoo recognized that this game they were playing was a dangerous one. The people they were trying to take down had more money and connections than the two of them could ever hope to get their hands on.

But one thing that he failed to recognize right away about Emma was that she’s always been grossly ambitious.

“The file you gave me also mentioned na he was hoping to insure his new house in Incheon,” she pointed out. “Care to tell me why you decided to include that?”

“I know you told me not to involve the company in this as much as we can, but I couldn’t think of any other way to penetrate into his circle.” Wonwoo adjusted his necktie, suddenly feeling like he’s being watched by the hawk that was his boss. “I’ve been told that he’s wary of people. Side effects of the cocaine, probably. Though the info broker sounded like he was joking, it’s best to be wary of him. If he can hide behind the protection of his management and his family, we need to play our cards right and protect ourselves, too.”

Emma took a moment to process what her secretary just told her, nodding slowly before closing the folder containing Ezra’s file and locking it inside a hidden drawer beneath her desk.

“Oh, Wonwoo. If only all men were as intelligent as you are,” she sighed, getting up from her seat before pinching his face. “Good work. Let's go out for drinks later. My treat.”

Wonwoo's face twisted with confusion. “For what? Doing my job?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “For going above and beyond every single time. You think you're only good at doing dirty work? At being my errand boy? You never fall behind your quotas here in the office either, you know. I think that in itself is a cause for celebration.”

Now that she’s reasoned it out, Wonwoo was even more weirded out by this strange turn of events. In the six months that Emma Rodriguez has spent as the head of PLEDIS Insurance’s Finance head, she never failed to uphold that arctic cold façade. She treated both executives and regular employees with the same degree of cut-throat harshness.

And that’s when Wonwoo realized that she didn’t really treat him the way she treated them.

Huh. Did the Ice Queen have a melting point after all?

Despite his extensive protests, however, Wonwoo let Emma rope him into grabbing dinner and drinks at a food hub several districts away from their office. The fewer people who could recognize them outside, the better. Of course, he pleaded and reminded her several times that she was his boss and she really didn’t have to—

“Hey! Keep drinking!” Emma slurred with a huff, face red from the alcohol as she pushed another pint of beer into Wonwoo's face. “Why aren't you drunk yet, huh, Wonwoo Jeon? Are you God? Maybe that's why you're so good at obtaining information for me. Ah! No! Maybe you're the devil! Right, what we're doing isn't exactly good nor is it legal…”

Wonwoo exhaled long and hard as his boss continued blabbering nonsense across from him at their shared table. One glance at the smartwatch on his wrist told him that it was near midnight and that he should probably bring Emma home before she could make a scene.

But…maybe they could stay for a few minutes more.

“Miss Emma? Are you sleepy?”

“Hm? Why would I be sleepy? We're drinking, aren't we?”

“You're half-asleep on the table, so.”

At the prospect of being called out, Emma quickly shot into an upright position—looking around to see if anyone caught her drooling. When she realized she was in the clear, she narrowed her eyes at Wonwoo.

“Not a word about this in the office,” she warned, using one of the finished barbecue sticks on their empty plates to threaten him. “But...yeah. Alcohol makes me sleepy. Drive me home.”

Not even a please. This woman was really shameless even when drunk.

Not a peep of complaint was heard from Wonwoo when he drove Emma all the way to her condo unit in uptown Poblacion. Though he had to practically carry her inside and even help her out of her clothes and into her pajamas (at her request, not his own initiative), he simply told himself this was all part of his job.

When his boss was safely tucked in bed, he was ready to bid her farewell and head back to his own place to catch up on some sleep. But for someone who was intoxicated beyond belief, Emma was still quite aware of her surroundings. The moment Wonwoo took a step away from her bed, her hand shot out to grab ahold of his wrist, making Wonwoo look back at her with an eyebrow raised.

“Wonwoo,” she murmured, face still smothered in her pillows despite her tight grip. “Can you stay?”

“There's nowhere for me to sleep,” he chuckled. “I should go.”

“Then sleep next to me.”

The furrow on his brow merely deepened. He’d ask her to repeat what she said, but Wonwoo could recognize that Emma wasn’t really in the headspace to be reasonable right now. So instead of refuting her wish, Wonwoo carefully pried her fingers off his wrist so he could take off his work coat and fold it neatly on top of her vanity table.

This is all part of the job, he told himself.

Wonwoo laid on his boss’ duvet perfectly still. He didn’t want to make the mistake of touching her when he didn’t have explicit permission to do so. He was merely told to sleep next to her after all—nothing else.

But about fifteen minutes after he lied next to her, Emma shifted on her side of the bed—turning to him with a sleepy look in her eyes.

“You know,” she whispered, so softly, he would’ve missed it if he wasn’t as observant as he was. “I hoped...so hard back then that you would help me when I needed it. But you never did.”

Emma probably won’t remember what she mumbled in her drunken stupor in the morning. But the sadness and honesty that underlined her words sent him back about ten years into the past. To a time when he was a much greater evil than those who directly wronged her.

An apology sizzled across the tip of his tongue—something that’s a decade overdue. But before Wonwoo could hope to let her hear his piece, Emma’s breathing had become even and shallow.

She was already fast asleep.

He sighed, staring up at the dainty ceiling of her bedroom as he chuckled helplessly to himself.

“That’s why I’m making up for it now.”

If Gavin’s case was a walk in the park, Ezra’s was an Olympic-level marathon.

Wonwoo didn’t want to dwell on the details anymore. To cut it short: he was going to cross out ‘exposing a notorious drug lord’ off his bucket list without thinking of doing it again ever. While he managed to get out unscathed during his investigation, it just so happened that their final altercation with Ezra ended up putting Wonwoo in the hospital.

But so what if he fractured a couple of ribs trying to save Emma from being killed by that drug-addicted lunatic? As long as their goal to bring Emma’s enemies down was achieved, he’d gladly sustain any life-threatening injuries.

Which was, admittedly…strange.

Long before Emma came into the picture as his boss, Wonwoo never would’ve pictured himself risking his neck for the benefit of someone else. Though he had an entire arsenal of skills and knowledge at his disposal, it would take more than just his generous salary to get him to put them to good use.

But with Emma, he found himself utilizing whatever means to help her exact her revenge—on people he once called his friends, much less.

He must be going insane.

“Wonwoo…?”

Funnily enough, he ended up recalling everything that happened over the past two weeks first before recognizing that he was just regaining consciousness in the intensive care unit. Wonwoo's eyes hurt because of how bright the fluorescent lights were overhead, but for some reason, he didn’t flinch away from her relieved smile when it was a million watts brighter than the hospital’s indoor lighting.

“Good…day, ma’am,” he croaked out awkwardly, belatedly realizing that he didn’t know what time it was. “What day is it? Did someone fix your schedule for today? Did someone go over your meal plans in my stead? Were you—”

His endless stream of questions was interrupted by hacking fit—making Emma scramble for a glass of water on the table by his hospital bed, a concerned look lining her gaze.

“Don't talk too much,” she scolded him as he finished his drink. “You’ve been out for two days, idiot.”

Two days?

Needless to say, he couldn’t do a thing about it once his boss started fussing over him. She called over doctors she personally knew and handpicked only the most competent of nurses to look after Wonwoo. How Emma could be the judge of that, Wonwoo wasn’t very sure, but he gladly let her take care of him for a change.

After all, they successfully concluded another chapter in Emma’s little revenge story.

“When are we going to start with Leo?”

Wonwoo brought the matter up about three days after he woke up, right in the middle of eating the stale hospital food served to him for dinner. Emma, who was snacking on some takeout fast food, hummed before tossing a french fry into her mouth.

“You're not even healed yet, and you're thinking about work?” she sighed before pointing a fry in his direction. “I’m still paying you your regular wage even if you're stuck here. You don’t have to worry about making ends meet so much, Wonwoo. You just need to rest—”

“But I don’t want to rest, I want to be useful to you,” he interrupted her gruffly, which was strange of him because he never interrupted his employers.

For a moment, Wonwoo thought he’d be on the receiving end of a verbal lashing even if he was still recovering. Emma never let other people talk back to her without consequences. But instead, his boss threw her head back with a laugh that bordered on a snort. It’s a look that Wonwoo had seen on her time and time again—a look that he noticed Emma only showed to him.

Back then, he didn’t really think of her smile all that much. But now…

“You’re being useful enough just by being alive, Jeon,” she reassured him, that grin of hers unwavering. “Enough questions about Leo. I'm not even thinking about him yet because compared to the previous two? He’s a lot easier to track down.”

Wonwoo shot her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

“Same approach lang with Ezra.” She flashed him a toothy smile. “We’re going to get him to insure some of his properties under PLEDIS. But instead of us going to him, he'll be going to us instead.”

“I…? Sorry, ma’am. I don’t follow.”

Emma stifled a soft laugh behind her palm, unwrapping the burger included in her takeout meal before taking a bite of considerable size. “The Choi Corporation is expanding a chain of shopping malls somewhere in Jeju. Leo Choi personally contacted our CEO and there we have it: another big shot client.”

Another person to drag down to hell.

“Is that good enough for you?”

Wonwoo was still processing the news as they both finished up their respective meals. He should probably be glad that Emma didn’t decide to put their secret operation on hold just because he was out of commission. But something about how smoothly they’re progressing into the next phase of Emma’s big revenge plan that made him wary of treading any further.

He felt like he was being paranoid—probably the aftermath of almost crossing to the other side because of what happened with the Ezra incident. Wonwoo couldn’t help but be wary of any and all threats to both his life and Emma’s, and it was for a good reason.

“Okay,” Wonwoo breathed, wincing a little when he felt the spot where his ribs broke ache at how fast he inhaled. “What do you want me to do for now? Investigate? Trace his whereabouts?”

Emma’s smile suddenly turned ice cold. “I want you to rest, Wonwoo. Do I have to keep repeating myself?”

“But—”

“No buts. Boss’ orders—I'm your boss, right?”

Ah, there’s the Ice Queen they all knew and loved.

Fine. Maybe he could use a break from all that quote-unquote field work he just did. But one thing about his entire hospitalization still remained unanswered.

“What did you tell HR? About…this?” Wonwoo gestured towards his battered but healing body. “You’ve got the charisma, but I’m pretty sure it’s difficult even for you to go into cahoots with the other employees of PLEDIS. Much more, our human resources head.”

Emma waved away his concerns with a shake of her head. “You're so persistent, aren't you? Don’t think about HR. Or Leo. Or the rest of our plans. Can’t you be a normal salaryman and be happy that you have a break from all the things I make you do?”

“I told you, Miss Emma. I just want to make myself useful.”

“And I told you that you're the least useful in your current state. So give. It. A. Rest,” she threatened, putting emphasis on every syllable.

But behind her intimidating façade was someone who actually cared for him. The details were still a bit muddled in Wonwoo's head, but he remembered being rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. Remembered how Emma never let go of his hand as they made the trip all the way. And how he heard her pray for him to make it out alive despite being a well-known agnostic.

Once their conversation had mellowed down, he laid back against the steady elevation of his bed, watching the scenic city lights glimmer outside the window of his hospital room—just behind the woman who made his life a lot more interesting.

He couldn’t wait to be useful to her again.

“I hate this. I fucking hate this so much.”

Wonwoo spared his employer a quick glance as she practically glared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. He’d been browsing through a sports car catalog tucked underneath the hotel’s coffee table, but watching Emma have a furious meltdown about her wedding was more worth his time.

“You're the one who said that there'll more benefits if you accepted the marriage proposal,” her secretary reminded, crossing his legs as he leaned back on the couch he was sitting on. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Of course I was just…gaslighting myself about this entire fucked up situation!” Emma growled as she stomped over to him with a scowl. “Can’t fucking believe my dad agreed to marry me off just like that, too. After all his talk that I needed to love whoever I'm supposed to marry...”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Anyone can be blinded by money—especially if it's from the Chois.”

“Even you?”

It’s a question that sunk into the room with a rhetorical implication. Emma was quick to exchange the earrings her stylist chose for her with something more suited to her taste—a pair that didn’t sparkle all that much but was worth more than six months of Wonwoo's salary. In her reflection on the vanity mirror, he could clearly see the way her red lips parted in concentration as she clipped the earrings in place.

“No,” Wonwoo responded even if he knew she wasn’t looking for an answer. “I’m more easily blinded by other things, ma’am.”

Emma glanced behind her with a puzzled look, not getting his drift. “Like what?”

Wonwoo didn’t dare think twice.

He got up from his once comfortable position on the couch, closing the distance that sat between him and Emma in long, calculated strides. She didn’t seem fazed by his sudden need to walk over, but the moment Wonwoo was behind her, she stiffened when he reached a hand in front of her face. Then, with a firm yet featherlight touch, her secretary wiped off the lipstick that stained past her lip line with his fingers—not once breaking eye contact with her in the mirror.

“It wouldn’t be fun if I told you, now would it?” He smiled before pulling his hand back. “I need to keep you on your toes sometimes, too, Miss Emma.”

He half-expected her to scoff and brush off his attempt at being smart with her. Emma was a no-nonsense kind of person, and with the wedding happening soon, Wonwoo understood why she’d be more high-strung than usual.

But instead of acting the way she always did with him, Emma took Wonwoo by surprise when she fisted his silken necktie in her manicured nails, tugging him down so that their eyes were leveled with each other. Normally, that wouldn’t be enough to wrestle Wonwoo into complete submission, but this was his boss they were talking about.

There’s a glint in those sharp eyes of hers that had his heart beating off the charts. This wasn’t the gaze of someone entitled the Ice Queen of their office. No, there’s something warm in there—borderline sensual. And before Wonwoo could even hope to figure out what it was, Emma was already closing her eyes and sealing their lips together like some unspoken pact.

It’s an inconsequential kiss. Wonwoo has made out with both men and women alike—all desperate gasps and lust-fueled passion—but somehow, none of those experiences could hold a candle to the way Emma Rodriguez pecked his lips for a fraction of a second before pulling away.

“You're getting more and more insufferable,” she muttered, resting her forehead against his. “You were never this cheeky before. What happened?”

You, he wanted to tell her. You happened.

At that point, Wonwoo's brain was merely operating on carnal instinct alone. He lunged forward to capture her lips again, making her gasp in surprise as he snaked a strong arm around her waist. Thank fucking god Emma’s wedding dress had a simple design—no pretentious frills to obstruct his movements.

Despite the fact that this woman—his boss—was getting married in less than two hours, Wonwoo couldn’t even give a damn. He swiped all the makeup boxes and accessories off the vanity table, propping Emma up on the horizontal surface as he kissed her until she saw stars.

“Wonwoo,” she sighed against his lips, thighs inching apart as he bunched the long hem of her gown up to her waist. He wondered distantly if Emma was going to ask him to stop—to see reason. But the glazed look in her eyes told him otherwise.

“More.”

Wonwoo wanted nothing more than to give her more. He’d do everything she could ever dream of asking him. Never mind the fact that it was more than a little messed up for him to consider fucking his boss right before she’s married off to the man who tormented her endlessly at sixteen.

Nobody else mattered—not Leo, not the director, not even Emma’s intricate revenge plot that was years in the making. At that moment, only the two of them existed, only separated by a few layers of clothing before they could finally become one.

But Wonwoo was abruptly reminded why he always chose reason before ambition long before he met Emma. Dreams and delusions were bound to end when you least expected them to. Reality, on the other hand, would always remind you of life’s harshest truths.

“Miss Emma?” They both could hear the voice of Leo's personal assistant outside the door to the hotel room, preceded by a few short knocks. “It’s time for your prenup shoot. Director Rodriguez is also looking for Sir Wonwoo. Is he in there with you?”

Whatever dream the two of them have fabricated only minutes ago had been erased from existence—all that was left was a bride-to-be with her dress ruffled in all the wrong places, and a pitiful secretary with red lipstick stains adorning his face.

“Yeah, he’s here with me,” Emma yelled over to the doorway, eyes refusing to part from Wonwoo's. “We’ll be down soon. Thanks, Christina.”

“Okay, ma’am. I'll just wait for you in the lobby.”

Wonwoo counted to ten before peeling himself away from Emma, quickly striding towards the bathroom to get some tissues both for himself and his employer. But while he was wiping off the lipstick on the corners of his mouth, Wonwoo immediately noticed the shift in the atmosphere.

Emma was already busy straightening herself out—smoothing down the creases in her gown and retouching her makeup as best as she could without her stylists. Wonwoo wouldn’t have minded the silence, it’s exactly the kind of setting he preferred working in.

But just when he thought he’d managed to melt the Ice Queen’s heart over the past year, she turned arctic cold all over again.

“After the wedding, tell my driver to accompany me to Leo's penthouse. Though I despise the idea, we have to go home together to keep up the act for everyone to see.” She gave her orders the same way she used to tell Wonwoo to sort the company’s financial reports—straight to business with little room for playing around. “Other than that, I don't have any more orders. You can rest easy for the day, Wonwoo.”

He felt like he should say something to address what just happened between them five minutes ago. To ask why she was pretending as if they weren’t breathing each other in like all the oxygen on the planet had gone in a flash. But Wonwoo wasn’t some desperate fool that overestimated his place in Emma’s life.

“Duly noted, ma’am,” he muttered with the same degree of aloofness she’d just given him before tossing the soiled tissues in the trash. “I’ll be waiting for you outside.”

Emma didn’t even break face as Wonwoo's footsteps resounded on the carpeted floor. She didn’t even spare him a second glance. But then again…

He was her secretary, and she was his employer.

That was all there was to it.

Much to Wonwoo's surprise, Leo's case was closed much sooner than he thought it would be.

Before Emma could even make it to the cathedral, the commotion had already started. Wonwoo had arrived earlier in the venue with Emma’s father, the director of PLEDIS Insurance, and were just about to take their seats among the other principal sponsors when the television screens mounted all over the church suddenly started playing a video.

A video that Wonwoo has already seen before.

He didn’t have to glance at Leo to know that he was sporting the most horrified look he could muster upon seeing one of your many sex scandals having an impromptu screening at the cathedral. Collective gasps and disgusted remarks were heard in a chorus of murmurs that reached all the way up to the high ceilings.

Wonwoo could hear Leo's assistant, Christina—who turned out to be part of the sex parties her boss secretly indulged in—barking orders for the church staff to cut the feed. But it was too late. Those who needed to see the truth have already gotten their fill.

Recognizing that his daughter couldn’t possibly be wed to a man with a reputation that’s been tarnished in a church, of all places, Director Rodriguez ordered Wonwoo to contact the bridal car driver and tell him to send Emma straight home instead. It’s a job that Wonwoo got done fairly quickly, and despite the numerous text messages that Emma sent him demanding answers about what happened, he didn’t respond to any of them right away.

After a few hours of digging around, Wonwoo eventually found out that one of Leo's cousins was behind the public exposé. Apparently, said cousin was able to obtain the same footage that Emma acquired and was able to sabotage Leo's attempt at seizing their family riches before Emma could even put her plans into motion.

Well, at least someone else already did the dirty work for them.

As usual, Wonwoo collated all the information he’s gathered in a concise email. This was how he kept Emma up to speed about their progress—through self-destructing emails. He informed her about the involvement of Leo's cousin and how the trash had taken itself out, ensuring that Leo Choi had fallen from the false pedestal he’s clung onto for years.

Their behind-the-scenes mission has been fulfilled.

While he didn’t expect Emma to respond enthusiastically, receiving radio silence in return wasn’t something Wonwoo had anticipated either. But he opted not to read into it much. She must’ve been royally pissed that Leo's demise wasn’t brought about by her own hand, and Wonwoo respected that.

The following Monday after the canceled wedding, however, he ended up finding out the reason behind her silence.

“Boss,” sobbed Seokmin when Wonwoo timed in at the office. “Please don't leave!”

Immediately backing him up was Soonyoung, who didn’t hesitate to hug Wonwoo, even giving him a few pats on the shoulder as if they were old drinking buddies. “It's okay, Sir Wonwoo. You've been here long enough. Maybe it's about time you found your path elsewhere.”

…Huh?

“What are you talking about?” Wonwoo voiced out his confusion. “You’re speaking like I got fired.”

As if on cue, the third member of their trio walked in on the conversation as he sipped on his usual iced americano. Seungkwan stared at Wonwoo with a puzzled expression before saying:

“But weren't you fired, sir? Miss Emma announced it this morning, but I think she left right away after, too.”

Not privy to the way the pieces started to click in his head, Seokmin and Soonyoung kept consoling Wonwoo as he made his way to his (old) cubicle. Emma had been one step ahead too—someone already having packed away most of his belongings in storage boxes. Not to mention the notice of contract termination sitting on his desk. Effective immediately, it says.

“I really don't get it though” Seungkwan droned behind him. “You? The best secretary in the city? Fired just like that?”

Seokmin nodded. “I don't understand it either. You two were business-as-usual after the wedding. Miss Emma must've been so pissed that she didn't get married that she laid off the boss here.”

“True,” Soonyoung agreed with a snicker. “Boss, maybe Miss Emma's just being unreasonable. I bet she'll be begging for you to come back in a few days' time.”

Yeah. That’s what the situation would seem like to an outsider. But Wonwoo knew perfectly well that Emma wasn’t bluffing about this. She fired him for a reason that’s been stewing for more than a decade. Even if Gavin, Ezra, and Leo have had their taste of justice, Emma’s revenge plot wasn’t finished like Wonwoo thought it was.

Because Wonwoo was one of her targets all along, too.

I hoped...so hard back then that you would help me when I needed it. But you never did.

“Where is she?”

Seungkwan perked up. “Uh, maybe she went home? She told us something about feeling a bit under the weather?”

Seokmin nodded. “She's probably in her penthouse or something. If i were you, I'd start making it up to her.”

“Hey, you're talking like they're actually dating,” Soonyoung scolded with a laugh.

Not even bothering to thank them, Wonwoo turned on his heel and made a beeline for the office entrance—dead set on doing exactly what Seokmin jokingly suggested.

This is why I'm making it up to you, he mused with an exasperated air as he buckled up in his car.

Can’t you just let me in?

Emma spent her first Monday after the entire wedding disaster with Leo holed up in her unit—stuffing herself full of ice cream. The only reason she bothered going to the office today was to formally announce that her secretary Wonwoo Jeon was fired—just like she’d been planning since the moment she met him again as her secretary after all these goddamn years.

Her high school bullies have been put in their place. Her fifteen-year revenge plot was finally over.

But why did she feel so fucking depressed about it?

She sighed pitifully when she realized she’d already emptied her tub of double dutch ice cream, finally deigning to get up from the couch to deposit it in the kitchen for later disposal. But just when she was about to continue moping in her living room, the doorbell to her unit buzzed from the entrance, making her glance that way curiously.

It could be her next-door neighbor. A kind, elderly woman who lived with her daughter. She borrowed Emma’s rosemary spices yesterday—something that she barely used because she often opted to go for food deliveries instead of whipping up her own meals.

With that reasoning in mind, she didn’t bother checking who was at the door through the peephole. She simply undid the locks before opening the door—only to come face-to-face with—

“Hey,” Wonwoo sighed as he jammed his foot between the door and the doorframe. “Ma’am, please talk to me first. Did you think I wouldn't catch onto what you were trying to do?”

“Why do I have to explain myself to you? You’re fired, right?” Emma growled as she pushed the door with her back, but sadly, Wonwoo easily overpowered her. At least he was decent enough to not let himself in—he simply lingered out in the hallway with a placid look on his face. “What?”

“Emma,” her ex-secretary addressed her for the first time without any formalities. “If you fired me as vengeance for not helping you all those years ago, I get it. I deserve it, even. But after what happened sa hotel…

“You can’t convince me there’s nothing between us anymore.”

Her breath hitched, face growing warm at the reminder of that intimate moment they shared hours before she was supposed to get married. Whenever she closed her eyes, she could still feel Wonwoo's mouth on hers. But that wasn’t a thought that was healthy to entertain at the moment.

“What are you saying? That was all part of the plan, you know?” She bluffed with a mirthless laugh, fully turning to face him as she crossed her arms. “Make you smitten enough with me to let your guard down. Look, you didn't expect me to fire you, did you?”

“No, but you can’t fool me, Emma,” Wonwoo chuckled with a self-satisfied smirk. “You wanted me too—that was real. If I’m mistaken, then make me leave. Call security on me. If I’m the nuisance you so desperately want me to be, then get rid of me here and now.”

The silence was thick between them. Emma was practically shaking with frustration as Wonwoo stared down at her with that overconfident look on his face. She wanted nothing but to punch him, hit him, slap him—

Kiss him.

Maybe Wonwoo was right. Maybe Emma did want him more than she led herself to believe.

Because why the hell did she fist the front of Wonwoo's work shirt before pulling him inside her penthouse? Why did she slam him against the door, earning a sexy groan from him as she crushed their lips together?

Was this a healthy way to deal with your current predicament? No—definitely not. But it felt too fucking good to pass up on.

Wonwoo, however, was all too quick to regain control—hooking one of Emma’s thighs around his waist as she gasped into his mouth. She could practically feel him smirk against her lips, and though she’s loath to admit, it only made her want him even more.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he chuckled before peppering her neck with love bites. “You might need to kill me first before I stop pursuing you.”

Emma spared him a breathless laugh that quickly melted into a moan when Wonwoo's hand found itself inside her oversized sleep shirt. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were obsessed with me, Jeon.”

His fingers were warm against her skin, and Emma couldn’t help the full-on shudder that racked her body when Wonwoo grazed her bare nipples. The smile on his face was wicked—dangerous, even.

“Maybe I am,” he chuckled, his breath fanning against her flushed face.

“What would you do if I was obsessed with you, Ma’am?”

Emma was well aware that Wonwoo knew the answer to his own question. It was obvious in the way he quickly picked her up from the floor, fully wrapping both her legs around his waist as he carried her towards her bedroom. But despite the carnal urgency in his grip, Wonwoo was awfully gentle as he laid her down on the mattress.

“Last chance to kick me out,” he murmured against her ear as he started unbuttoning his shirt. “You could exact your revenge on me even better, ‘no? I’m giving you the leeway to frame me for forced entry…among other things.”

God. She knew Wonwoo was a little crazy when he accepted Emma’s orders to help her make his old best friends suffer. But the way he looked at her with such crazed desire further confirmed her suspicions.

And she didn’t want her men any other way.

“Fuck me, Wonwoo,” she told him clearly before stripping her own clothes and laying herself bare for him to feast on—eyes lidded, desiring him just as much as he did her. “That’s an order.”

He shook his head with a chuckle, and Emma had to force herself not to drool over his perfectly built torso. If she had more patience, she would’ve taken her time worshiping every inch of Wonwoo's body, but he’d already set a fire in the pit of her stomach. One that she fully expected him to deal with sooner than later.

“So wet for me,” he observed with a lopsided smirk, pressing their foreheads together as he lathered his fingers with her slick. “Have you always wanted me this way? Do you touch yourself to the thought of me, Miss Emma?”

Yes. Fuck, yes.

“That’s none of your business, Jeon,” Emma stubbornly insisted, keeping herself from moaning when his lips descended onto one of her hardened nipples.

Wonwoo made good on the opportunity, using the fingers he’d used to feel up her slick cunt to rub her essence across the other bud he wasn’t suckling on. The effect was near immediate—Emma throwing her head back with a pretty little whimper as Wonwoo started to massage her breasts.

Fuck. He’d always dreamed of getting to smother his face between them.

“Wonwoo,” she gasped out loud, hips bucking desperately when he bit down on her sensitive flesh. “F-Fuck me. Now.”

“Demanding.” He pulled away from her sensitive nipples with a pop, staring up at her with a lustful gaze. “You enjoy ordering me around too much, you know?”

“You enjoy being ordered around, too,” Emma pointed out with a scoff, trying her best not to moan too loudly when Wonwoo's fingers started to toy with her leaking cunt again. “Just—I need you. Please.”

Ah, he never thought the day would come when he’d hear Emma Rodriguez begging for his cock.

“Okay, Ice Queen,” he relented with a playful laugh, kicking his underwear and trousers off as he pumped his already hard length. “Since you're so eager for me to fuck you, I’m not going to prep you anymore. You better not cry when my cock splits you open, okay?”

Hearing him talk so lewdly to her made her pussy gush with excitement. What’s more was that, not only was her secretary blessed with a face and body that gods would covet, but his cock was something she was afraid she’d keep looking for even when he was done with her.

He was awfully careful when he first pushed inside of her, sharp eyes riveted on her face as it twisted with both pain and pleasure alike. His size was something that one needed getting used to, and he wasn’t about to make his first time with Emma uncomfortable for her.

No, he wanted her to keep thinking about him even after they’ve had their fill of each other.

“Squeezing me so fucking tight,” he rasped against her neck, licking a long stripe along the column of her throat to make her shiver. “Too bad you already fired me. I always wondered what it would feel like to bend you over and fuck you in your office.”

He could feel her pussy squeeze his cock even tighter at the shameless image she put in her head, making Wonwoo smirk with pride as he started to move. Emma mewled his name, grabbing his face as he chased his lips. He was all too willing to give her what she wanted, meeting her with an open-mouthed kiss as their tongues clashed together in time with his thrusts.

“W-Wonwoo,” she moaned into his mouth, hips eagerly meeting his. “Deeper. Fuck me deeper.”

And fuck her deeper, he did—Emma’s got him wrapped around her pretty manicured fingers, after all.

Wonwoo was relentless with the way he pounded her into the bed, the sound of skin slapping against skin ringing much too loudly in his ears. But he didn’t fucking care. The feel of Emma’s velvet pussy walls pulsing around his cock sent his mind into a frenzy—fucking her until the bedframe creaked, until Emma was begging him to give her more, more, more—

All of a sudden, she gasped, “Coming, coming—!”

If being inside her was life-changing, feeling her cum around his cock sent Wonwoo straight to heaven. Her cunt spasmed deliciously as Wonwoo helped her ride out her high—lips locked together as they breathed each other in.

“Cum inside me,” she murmured deliriously into his mouth, practically rubbing her breasts—sensitive and littered with all the marks Wonwoo left on them—against his toned chest. “Make me yours, Jeon.”

He didn’t have to be told twice.

“God, I love you,” he sighed a little mindlessly, and those carelessly uttered words made Emma’s eyes widen with surprise before losing herself to the feeling of delirium.

Wonwoo spilled his load inside her quivering cunt with a long-winded moan, feeling like he’d been shot through the head and was experiencing a level of euphoria that bordered on illegal. Emma moaned at the feel of his warm cum filling her to the brim, bringing him down for another sloppy kiss as the heat of the moment started to dissipate in the quiet atmosphere of their bedroom.

As their breaths started to settle, Emma was the first to glance at him—to meet his eyes. Wonwoo couldn’t find any trace of the arctic cold Ice Queen that practically told him to scram the other day at the hotel.

No, it was just Emma.

His Emma.

“Can I still take back my verdict?” she muttered softly, inching closer to bury her face in his chest. Wonwoo instinctively pulled her in for a tender embrace, kissing the crown of her head with a smile.

“You mean the contract termination?” Wonwoo chuckled. “Take it up to HR, Miss Emma. I’m just a lowly secretary.”

All of a sudden, Emma rolled over so that she was seated upright on the bed. Wonwoo had to keep himself from groaning at the sight of her—hair disheveled and body sporting all his marks. Seeing her freshly fucked by him was doing things to his libido.

“You’re not just my secretary, Wonwoo,” she sighed, twiddling with her fingers awkwardly. “I…I wasn’t going to fire you anymore. I got used to your company. I…

“I fell in love with you.”

The words floated between them like a cloud that couldn’t easily be swept up by the wind. Wonwoo offered her a comforting smile before pulling her into a firm kiss.

“Yet you fired me anyway,” he pointed out with a laugh. “Why? You couldn’t deal with the fact that you fell in love with one of your high school bullies?”

That earned him a punch in the shoulder. “You’re not one of them. You’re different.”

“And you’re in love with me too, no? You said it yourself. Since when?”

Shaking his head, Wonwoo then pressed a soft, featherlight kiss on her nose—one that had Emma’s heart fluttering like she was a schoolgirl.

Gosh, this man. He’s fifteen years too late.

“Maybe I’ve always been a little in love with you. Who knows?” Wonwoo spared her a Cheshire cat smile. “There’s more where that came from though.”

Emma punched him in the chest this time—a bit too close to the spot where he broke a few ribs months prior. But he didn’t care.

She could send him to hell and back and he’d do it for her in a heartbeat.

From: Wonwoo Jeon

Subject: NOT-SO CLASSIFIED

Good evening, Miss Emma. I hope this message finds you well.

I heard that you dealt with quite a stressful client today. I’m very sorry that I wasn’t here to help you with the matter as I was given tasks to do elsewhere. In order to make up for this lapse on my part, I am cordially inviting you to dinner at 7PM tonight after work.

Rest assured, the expenses shall be shouldered by me and your only job is to sit and look gorgeous as I wine and dine you for the evening. Sincerely hoping for your most favorable response.

Regards,

Wonwoo Jeon

Secretary, Finance and Logistics Department

PLEDIS Insurance

Your boyfriend :)

end notes: this wasnt thoroughly proofread so if you spot some strange errors (aka sentences in a different language bc this fic was partly in filipino) here and there, pretend you didn't see em! as always, ur feedback means everything to me so scream in the tags or my ask as much as you want ^__^

#svthub #seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo fanfic #lovelyhan #full-length fic 📚#wonwoo x oc #wonwoo x reader

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mediumgayitalian · 1 month

Text

———

“Hm,” Piper says, fingers steepled. She looks very intently at the air in front of her. “Hm.”

Nico scowls impatiently. “Feel free to be helpful at any given time. Now, even, if you’re so inclined.”

“Have you considered that the reason you’re so infatuated with Will is because you may be blessed by Apollo?”

“I’m infatuated with Will because he is the physical manifestation of everything I value in a person,” Nico says automatically. Then he frowns, processing the rest of Piper’s sentence. “Wait, what?”

Nico understands his error as the grin on her face stretches into something truly grotesque. “I was going to make a joke about your drama levels, but thank you for that. I’m really looking forward to telling several dozen people and delighting in the knowledge that you’re going to curl up into a bundle of humiliation under your bunk tonight as you think about it.”

Instead of answering, Nico decides to walk away. Since there is so much blood concentrated in his skull, resting mostly around his face region, he takes two steps and begins to pass out, but luckily Piper has followed him and impedes a head injury by gripping his arm and merrily forcing him forward.

“So,” she says, steering them towards the amphitheatre, “what’s Plan B?”

“Bold of you to assume there was a Plan A.”

“You like Sunny Boy way too much to walk in there blind.”

“…Touché.”

She’s smug enough to be silent, slinging an arm over Nico’s shoulders as they walk. The closer they get, the harder Nico is forced to grapple with just how godsdamn much he’s softened. I want you to be happy, Father had said. Camp will be good for you, Chiron had agreed. You’re a little twit and need socializing, Mr. D had snipped.

Nico needs a better father figure. He wonders if Paul Blofis’ offer is still open.

The amphitheater is not, of course, empty when they arrive, because Nico knows the Fates personally and each of them despises him. The actual training part is empty — unsurprising — but the stands are moderately filled, with people gossiping, braiding hair, and if Nico is not mistaken, a small, pop-up nail painting salon. Mitchel lifts a purple-smeared hand in an absentminded wave as they step onto the packed dirt.

Nico ducks under Piper’s arm, turning to face her. “I need to fight you,” he informs her. “For my own personal pride.”

She nods thoughtfully. “It does indeed need restoring.” He curved, icy blade gleams in the early afternoon sun, mirroring her dangerous smile. “Square up.”

Since honour is for nerds, Nico doesn’t bother waiting. He simply attacks, lunging for the left side Piper always leaves open. Unfortunately for him, her recent meddling in his love life means her mother has blessed her with a little sprinkling of extra verve, and she dodges easily and cheerfully.

He sends a glum mental prayer down to his father.

Anytime you’re feeling generous, Pop, he grumbles, I would love a boost.

There’s an actual rumble to the ground, as his father laughs at him.

“Real kind,” he says out loud. “Dick.”

“I wonder if you would have more success in the wooing department if you had conversations outside of your own head,” Piper says sweetly. She spins her sword in a neat little circle by his face. “All bay brooding makes you look so…broody.”

Nico scoffs at her. “Will seems to like my broodiness. For some reason. So there.”

“And yet…” She trails off, shooting him a teasing look. Nico is unfortunately very easy to tease (thanks, Bianca) (and for that measure thanks, Hazel) (Reyna too, probably) (and honestly Annabeth) (gods, and Percy) (don’t even get him started on Leo) (really, it would be more prudent to name the people who do not take sick pleasure in driving him up the wall) and as such succumbs easily to her tormenting, taking a hard hit to the side when he’s too keyed up to avoid her spinning slash.

“Note to self, don’t let the monsters know about big embarrassing crushes,” she muses. “They make Nico sloppy and will get him killed in battle.”

She mimes writing something down. This, thankfully, leaves her distracted enough that Nico gets his sword levered against hers, twisting until she’s disarmed. She lifts both hands up in surrender when he points a sword at her throat, but remains entirely unaffected by his glare.

“Pride re-instated?” she asks.

Nico huffs. “No.”

…Yes.

“You’re such a grouch,” she says fondly. She tries to ruffle his hair and is forcibly stopped by his jab to her ribs. Unfortunately, Piper McLean takes no shit sitting down, and in a minute they’re on the floor, getting caked in dust, trying to see who can leave the most bruises on the other. Nico would wager that they’re just about tied.

“You have a list,” Piper grunts, muffled as she bites his bicep. He shouts, wrenching his arm away — she is pointy. “I have no idea what you’re all mopey about.”

He digs his knee into the small of her back. “I gave him flowers! He made a poultice out of them!”

“Technically, you made the poultice.”

He elbows her in the stomach. She shrieks and jabs her knuckles right under his eye.

“You’re so annoying!”

“Ugh!”

Every part of Nico’s body aches. So badly. He’s not sure which one of them won their brawl, if either, but he knows for sure that he is actively turning purple. He feels like the first time his nonna gave him a hammer and a piece of cutlet — he was maybe five years old — and told him to flatten it. (He remembers, now, the look on her face as she wiped pulverized chicken flesh from her eye. Oops.)

“Go to Will and get healed up?”

Nico huffs a laugh, immediately wincing at the strain on his tender ribs.

“Yep. Let’s go.”

The walk is miserable and bruised. And slow, since both of them are limping. Several campers walk by snickering, since apparently Saving The Entire Damn World, For Real And Actually, You Ungrateful Brat, Should I Just Destroy It Again Then earns you no permanent respect.

It’s not too bad, though. Nico would rather chomp on concrete than admit it out loud, but Piper isn’t horrible company, and she hums when she walks. Bianca did the same thing. For once, it’s a pleasant reminder, although he does wonder if Nico will ever be able to look at the women in his life and not think of her.

(In all honesty, probably not. He sees her in the clouds, in the gnarled bark of the trees; feels her in the warmth of the sun; hears her in every snorting laugh. He likes to imagine how much she would love these women, though. If she were alive they would be her friends first. He knows she was happy with the Hunters, however briefly. He thinks he can maybe forgive himself if he thinks of her without weeping.)

“Least it doesn’t look too busy today,” Piper comments. She purses her lips at the Big House, which for once seems quiet. Perhaps Will made good on his threats and finally dosed the Hermes’ table breakfast spread with Benadryl. Nico would be proud. He deserves a day of peace.

“Great. That means we get the full force of Will’s bitching on us alone.”

Piper scoffs. “Please. You like it when he yells at you.”

Nico almost kills her for real. By the time she manages to kick him off of her, still snickering to herself, they both have a new layer of bruises on top of the old ones.

“Gods, di Angelo, you make it so easy —”

“Shut up,” he says hotly. “You are literally the most annoying person in this stupid camp.”

She sticks her tongue out at him. He scowls, kicking a rock to avoid kicking her and setting both of them off again. It rolls over the grass, pinging off the side of one of the many braziers and rolling finally to a stop back at his feet. In its new position, it perfectly catches the brightly shining sun, refracting the light in a dandelion-esque burst.

“Huh,” he murmurs.

Wincing at his stiff joints, he crouches, vaguely registering Piper pausing somewhere to the left of him. He scoops the little thing up, bringing it close to his face to inspect.

It’s roughly cut, so it’s not anyone’s jewel or anything. Some of the pieces are textured with tiny little divots, like a regular stone, but some are straight and flat and catch the light. Some kind of crystal, then. It’s dense, about the size of a walnut, and shaped kind of like a brain. It is a very familiar shade of blue.

“Holt Hades, you are sappy.”

Nico flushes, shoving the rock into his pocket. “Nobody asked you, Piper.”

“I asked me! I am always asking me.” She jogs to keep up with his suddenly speedy strides, gripping onto the elbow of his shirt when he tries to move faster. “Is this Plan B? Little gifts.”

“It’s a rock,” he says shortly.

“Diamonds are rocks.”

“I didn’t get him a diamond.” He pauses. “Should I get him a diamond?”

She shrugs. “I dunno. I’m not the one in love with him.”

“Who said anything about —”

“Nico! Piper! Hey!”

“Notice who he called first,” she whispers, right in his ear. She grins over at Will before he can say anything. Or curse her. “Hey, Will! How are you?”

It is unfair for a person to look good in mint scrubs. They don’t even suit him, not really, but he still looks — well, he’s beautiful. His hair is poofier than usual and sticks out like he stuck his finger in a socket, and his beam is so bright Nico has to genuinely squint to look at him, and how is it, honestly, that his freckles look like dappled sunlight? That’s not normal.

“I’m okay.” He waves them inside, not bother to close the door behind them — it’s nice out, and Nico knows he prefers the breeze and sun. “Bored.”

“Not enough ocular surgery to perform?”

Will’s grin turns wry. “Nope.” He reaches out to brush his thumb across Nico’s eye scar. He freezes, holding his breath, hyperaware of those callused fingers as they approach the ever-warming skin of his face, heart galloping in his chest. As soon as Will makes contact — because of course the touch was to get his vitals, c’mon, Nico, head in the game — he frowns.

“Why are so many of your capillaries burst?”

Piper smiles guiltily, holding up a hand.

“I beat him up.”

“Wha — you did not!” He turns to Will, indignant. “We beat each other up! She’s lying!”

Will sighs. He glares at them both for a full forty seconds, then turns his face up to the heavens, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like I do not deserve to be surrounded by this kind of dumbassery. Send lightning through the sky if I should let them suffer.

Nico waits. No lightning comes forth.

Will sighs. “Cot, let’s go, y’all know the drill.”

Piper mouths y’all as she sits down. Nico mouths eat dirt back at her.

“Now, I could hum sum’n and —”

“Sum’n,” Piper whispers delightedly. Nico ignores her.

“— get y’all fixed up good, but y’all’ve pissed me off good —”

Nico takes the initiative to pillow-smack Piper in the face while Will’s back is turned. Luckily, it muffles her shriek.

“— so I’m not gonna do all that.” He closes the cupboard with his hip, hands full of vials. “Ain’t even gonna waste ambrosia on y’all, honestly. Y’get some bruise ointment and a Tylenol ‘cause I know y’all were up to shenanigans.”

He puts a lot of emphasis on ‘nan’. Nico knows he is trying very hard to be stern, but he is in fact very cute, and Nico is putting a lot of his brainpower towards memorizing the specific wrinkle pattern that Will’s nose gets when he’s annoyed. If he says that Will looks like a bunny he might actually get shot, no matter how much Will allegedly seems to like him, so he manages to choke down the sentiment. But it is indeed there.

“— and take it easy, y’hear? Bruises don’t heal in a day.”

Gods, his eyes are really, really pretty. He’s almost tired of thinking it, but they match the sky exactly, all the time. Poets write about sparkling eyes and pretty faces all the time, but all of them can choke because all of them are liars. Will Solace has the prettiest eyes of anyone who has ever lived. They are indeed the windows to the soul, and his soul is just —

“This is for you,” Nico blurts. Essentially acting on its own, his hand slips in his pocket and draws out the blue stone, holding it out. “Um. I saw it and —” He glances at Piper, panicked, and she kicks him in encouragement. “Thought of you. So.”

Will stares at the stone for a moment. Nico sweats.

“Nico di Angelo,” he chides, hands on his hips. The panicked look he flits in Piper’s direction grows tenfold. He is not at all comforted by the grimace she sends back. “Do you think I’m so corrupt as to accept a bribe?”

“Um.” Nico hesitates. Piper smacks her face onto her hands, groaning. “That’s not what I —”

“Well, you would be correct.” Quick as a bird, Will darts out and snatches the stone, sliding it into one of his many (many) shorts pockets, nodding in approval. “I don’t have any aventurine. I’ve been looking for it. Good bribe.”

He sets down the ointment and Tylenol, gesturing for Nico to hold out his hands. Nico sighs, then complies.

“I mean, he didn’t destroy it, this time,” Piper whispers as he begins to sing, enveloping Nico’s body in a warm, golden glow. “So…progress?”

“Progress,” Nico agrees. He glances over at Will, eyes squeezed shut in focus, and rolls his eyes fondly. “Who knew it would be so hard to convince someone who already likes me to go out with me.”

———

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lumosinlove · 3 months

Text

Vaincre

June part ii

Maybe Finn couldn’t play, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t gift himself fifteen minutes of watching Leo lay out on the mat and use a foam roller to stretch out his back.

“What you think you’re staring at?” Leo had his eyes closed, back arched over the roller, hands above his head. He’d turned the lights off for Finn’s sake.

“I don’t know, I think I might have a crush on you,” Finn said.

Leo laughed, a little out of breath as he bent his knees to moved the roller up near his shoulders. “Oh really?”

“Yep.” Finn adjusted his sling against his neck. “Pretty sure.”

“I thought you liked that Tremblay guy.”

“Who?”

Leo smiled and reached blinding for a resistance band to throw at him. “Stop your flirting. I’m trying to focus.”

Finn just rested his head back against the wall and grinned.

He should be more nervous. Game seven, enemy crowd, their entire season on the line. But it was different, being hurt and watching everyone else out on the ice. Something had gotten tangled, some tethers had twisted wrong, and suddenly there was a pane of glass between him and the game.

“Sorry,” Finn said. “Let me just reel in my adoration.”

Leo hummed and kept his eyes closed. He let out a breath when the roller hit a knot near his shoulder and kept it there, pressing down.

Finn let himself close his eyes for a few moments, too. He wasn’t sure when he would get the chance again without it looking, to any camera, like he’d fallen asleep watching the game. He could see the Instagram posts now, the tweets.

“Fish.”

“Yeah?”

He opened his eyes when Leo didn’t reply. Leo was staring up at the ceiling. The foam roller had become more of a neck pillow now and his hands were folded across the Lions logo on his sweatshirt.

“I’m scared,” Leo said softly.

Finn sat up. He looked hard in the dim room at Leo’s expression, but it wasn’t changing. He appeared calm. As calm as his voice sounded. These words—I’m scared—didn’t even sound small in his mouth. Finn would never have admitted to fear so easily, so cleanly. He—and Logan, he suspected—would have never let those words free on a day like today.

Finn pushed himself up from the wall and knelt across the mat until they were laying side by side on their backs. Leo ditched the roller and pushed their shoulders together.

“I don’t want it to be Logan,” Leo whispered. “I don’t want it to be Logan who gets through.”

Believe me, Finn thought to himself. I know.

“Who says anyone will?” he said aloud.

“Finn…”

“You’re so, so good, Le.”

“I—yes. I’m good but…”

“I know that doesn’t make Logan easier.”

Leo hesitated for a moment. “I almost thought it would be easier if we weren’t…if we weren’t on the best terms when this game happened. After the stuff about you and everything. I thought—I think maybe that’s why I was okay leaving without saying goodbye to him. Maybe part of me thought it would make this not so awful.”

And it was awful. They’d been trying not to call it that—who wanted to call reality awful?—but they missed Logan like air. And Finn, despite the concussion being minor, had been as terrified as everyone around him. And Jack had put pressure on them like an ocean current.

Finn watched the way one of the ceiling lights flickered. “Only Lo is one of the sweetest creatures.”

“Exactly.”

“God, he’s so nice to you, what a dick.”

Leo laughed and slapped him in the chest, avoiding his sling. Finn turned his head and found them nose to nose. He smiled at Leo’s smile and brushed the tips of their noses together.

“For the record, I think you’d be a truly insane person, not just a crazy goalie, if you weren’t nervous for a game seven.” He reached out his good hand and Leo put his own into it. “But you’ve done it before, baby. You’ve won it before.”

Leo nodded. His eyes darted around Finn’s face, as they sometimes did.

“Yes, I do have freckles, thanks for noticing.”

Leo laughed again and, with a groan, rolled into Finn’s side.

“Floor snuggles in the gym.”

Leo nodded closing his eyes. “Just for a second.”

Finn placed a kiss in Leo’s hair. “Wish I could have your back tonight. I really do.”

Leo picked his head up, hand on the lapel of Finn’s game-day suit. “You do. You always do. And you’re wearing the tie I bought you.”

“I am.”

“And you do look very nice in your suit.”

“Thanks, Butter.”

Leo groaned as he pushed himself to his knees, like he didn’t want to get up. “C’mere. Let me kiss your head Finn O’Hara.”

Finn laughed as Leo put his palms on each of Finn’s temples and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Why did you say my name like that?”

Leo bent farther and kissed Finn’s mouth quick. “Cause I got a wicked crush on you.”

The soft sound that came out of Finn’s mouth was was not one he recognized, somewhere between a laugh and a hum.

“Text me when you find Logan,” Leo said as he rose, then ducked out of the room to jog a few laps around the arena. Finn let himself lay on the floor for a moment, smiling, before getting up, too.

So, it wasn’t all bad, being with the team but not having to get ready for the game. He and Kasey sat in their stalls anyway, suits and all, and watched the locker room chaos. Sirius barely said a word to anyone besides Remus whenever he passed him by. He was locked in, and that sight was almost comforting. Finn could tell that it made the rest of the room feel more ready, too.

They had called up a kid named Hugo Holm as Leo’s back-up, and he looked like he was thinking about making a run for it. Leo didn’t seem to mind. He was being his usual, friendly self, but Finn could tell he was proud that he was the one keeping his cool.

Finn wandered around, too—he never could be still for long. MSG had interesting plaques on the walls. Famous concerts, famous athletes, and other celebrities who had made history there. He was stopped a few times by press, and once by Marlene who gave him his pass up to the players and families box to watch the game, but other than that, he kept his mind clear.

And looked for Logan.

He found Luke first. He was coming in from sitting out on the bench in his sweatpants and sweatshirt, blue-on-blue, and looked surprised to see Finn walking towards him.

Finn put his hands up. “I know, I know. Enemy territory. Just boyfriend-seeking.”

“It’s all good.” Luke took both of his AirPods out. “He’s probably—”

“About to sharpen his skates,” Finn said. Maybe he felt a little flare of competition. Luke was a good line-mate for Logan. He was. But he wasn’t Finn. “It’s that time of the evening.”

“Right.” Luke nodded. “You’d know.” He cleared his throat. “Hey, how’s the head?”

“Fine, thanks,” Finn said. “Third time’s a charm, right?”

Luke winced.

“Sorry.” Finn laughed. “That was supposed to be a joke.” He flexed his fingers on his sling side. “It’s really just this that needs to heal up, so. But at least I can take the sling off more now. Itches.”

“Right.”

This was awkward. This shouldn’t be so awkward. Finn wasn’t awkward, and yet here he and Luke Deveaux were, sizing each other up like they were on the ice.

“Well, glad about the head,” Luke said. He had ducked his chin a little and was fiddling with his phone in a way that, Finn realized, reminded him of Logan. “Um—”

“Thanks,” Finn heard himself blurt out.

Luke’s eyes darted back to his. “What? Oh, yeah. Sure.”

Finn shouldn’t feel competitive. He’d never thought of himself as jealous, but maybe that only applied to Leo.

“No, I mean…Thanks for Logan.”

Luke tilted his head. “What do you…”

“I mean, look, the trade was really…” Finn didn’t stumble over his words. Usually. Something about Luke’s intense steady gaze made him do that now, though. It was like trying to gauge Logan, in the early days at school. Trying to read what he was thinking. Finn took another breath. “It was hard. I’m just trying to say you sound really great. And he talks about you a lot. And I’m glad he has you. You know. Over on the dark side that is not Gryffindor.”

Luke had looked vaguely uncomfortable under the praise, but he cracked a smile. “The dark side, huh?”

“I said what I said.”

Luke smiled more fully and ducked his head again. “Well, that dark side’s gonna beat you thanks to your boyfriend—among other things.”

“We’ll see.”

Just then, Logan appeared from the Rangers locker room, on his way to the equipment room with his skates. He was wearing a backwards blue hat and a tight, gray undershirt that outlined every single muscle in his chest and stomach. He had a piece of rainbow sour strip candy dangling half out of his mouth.

Finn rubbed a hand against his jaw, trying to hide at least some of the shameless expression Luke must’ve seen on his face because he turned to look.

Logan did a double take, then broke into a grin.

“Un intrus,” Logan called around the candy.

“Whatever you say, 71,” Finn replied.

“Sirius, send happy emoji!” Logan shouted back, and Finn extended his slinged hand’s middle finger as he walked towards him.

He turned back to look at Luke. “Good game.”

Luke had a funny expression on his face, but he covered it with a brief smile. “He called you an intruder, by the way.”

“Oh, I bet he calls me all sorts of things.”

Luke just scoffed and put his headphones back in.

Finn didn’t see Logan as he entered the equipment room—he was typing out a quick text to Leo—until two hands grabbed his suit jacket and pushed him—gently, mindfully—up against the wall by the door.

“Wow,” Finn said, looking down into Logan’s green eyes. The candy was gone. “Hello there.”

“Stupid sling,” Logan said.

“I agree.”

Logan had deposited his skates near the sharpener and had his fingers in Finn’s hair, combing it back at the sides. “You come looking for me?”

“No, I wanted to get Luke to sign my chest.”

Logan made a face. “Shut up.” Then he kissed him. Sour-sweet. Finn let Logan take away the tension in his neck and jaw.

His green eyes were happy when he pulled back, if not a little tense. He was thinking about the game. He was still stroking Finn’s hair like he was trying to distract himself.

“You okay?” Finn asked softly, rubbing a hand down his side. Logan’s finger caught a slight knot and when Finn winced Logan switched to petting his good shoulder.

Logan pressed his lips together in a gesture that reminded Finn of Noelle. “Did you already text Leo?”

“You’re petting me like a dog.”

“You like it.”

“Well, damn, truce.”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Sorry,” Finn said. “I can’t hear anything over your abs.”

Logan pinched his side. “Shh.”

“Of course I texted Leo. Did you hear what I said?”

Logan was frowning like he was working up the courage to answer Finn’s question, when his eyes caught on something in the hallway.

“Le,” he called. “In here.”

Leo poked his head in. “Oh. Fuck, I almost just walked into your locker room. That would have been terrible.”

“Luke said he’d sign my chest,” Finn said. “Bet he’d do yours, too.”

Leo’s eyes turned bewildered. “Excuse me?”

Logan slapped a hand over Finn’s mouth. “He’s stupid.”

The hand went back to combing through Finn’s hair seemingly against Logan’s will.

Leo just shook his head, smiling, and leaned against the wall beside Finn. “You know, Lo, we technically outnumber you. You should be the one in enemy territory.”

Finn raised his eyebrows. “Knut speaks the truth. The Knuth.” Leo’s eyes turned imploring. “Sorry, this is my first time outside in a while.”

Logan spread his hands. “You could have texted me! I was just here and—Finn appeared!”

Finn clicked his tongue. “You know, I felt a little more welcomed when I was being pushed up against the wall.”

Leo laughed. He reached out a hand and pulled Logan to him in one smooth motion. Finn liked watching them always, but especially lately. They had to be so careful with him just now and he liked seeing the easier, more reckless touches.

I’m scared, Leo had said. Finn saw it still in the way he arched his neck down to press his forehead against Logan’s. Logan must have felt it, because his green eyes looked at Leo’s shut ones for a long moment, before closing, too.

“I hate this,” Leo whispered. Finn put a hand low on his back.

“Je sais,” Logan replied, so softly that Finn’s chest hurt. “Me too.”

Finn held himself back. He knew this was between the two of them.

“One of us keeps going, or not.” Logan’s voice was low and sweet. “Still get to come home to you.” Then he said, even more quietly, what Finn had been someone shamefully feeling. “I almost don’t care about anything else but another summer with you two.”

It made Leo let out a surprised laugh, and Logan smiled, pleased with himself.

“Almost, I said.”

Finn had to leave them to it eventually. He made his way up to the box and narrowed in on Natalie and Noelle with their elbows on the railing. They each wore their half Gryffindor, half New York jerseys and had cold plastic cups of beer in their hands. Finn wrapped his good arm around Noelle’s shoulders in lieu of announcing himself.

“Hey Harz,” Noelle smiled.

Finn had always liked the way she looked at him—well, not always. There were those few summers, and that awful period of being a Lion with Logan but not being Logan’s. Noelle hadn’t glared at him, exactly, but she hadn’t not glared at him, either. It had been a soft, pitying sort of glare. A get your shit together sort of glare.

Now, she wrapped a hand around his waist. “You feeling alright?”

“Yeah,” Finn said. “I mean, my boyfriends are about to go head-to-head in the most important game of the season, but I’m super.”

“Don’t use the phrase head-to-head,” Natalie said with a wave of her manicured hand—red and blue. “It’s too on the nose for you.”

Finn snorted. “Very funny.”

In truth, he’d probably have to take a little break from the lights at some point. At least, those were some of his instructions. At least his shoulder didn’t hurt. He sighed and went to the bar to get a water, giving Julian Lupin’s hair a tussle along the way. Was this really how he thought of his life now? In terms of it could be worse?

He hoped not.

New York’s lights went down with a down-spiral, bass-filled sound. The players below became silhouettes. Blue or red—they looked surprisingly similar in the semi-darkness. Both faded into something like purple. Finn leaned his good forearm on the railing beside the girls and resigned himself to being able to do nothing but watch.

Sirius did everything he usually did. The pull, the need to not mess up made everything feel like a mess up in itself. He didn’t like the hum of the New York crowd. They shouldn’t have sounded so sure of themselves, not in the murmur of so many voices, not in the twang of their feet against the stadium stairs.

When the lights went down and some opera singer was announced to sing the anthem, they shouted out for their team over the lyrics like the fate of this game was unavoidable. Unstoppable. He could see many red jerseys that had made the trip to New York, but not enough to compete against the let’s go Rangers chants.

He would win the first face-off. He would set them up right. He wouldn’t think about the fact that they didn’t have Kasey or Finn. He caught a flash of sandy hair before being shaken out before it was covered by a number six helmet.

He had Remus.

A number seven jersey was talking a mile a minute at Alex O’Hara from one still dark bench to the other.

He had James.

If MSG did one thing right, it was the a pump-up. Lasers, blue and red, danced over the ice. It flashed against his gloves, momentarily making the black take on a blue-ish tinge that felt like a stain. He tucked his gloves closer to the red of his jersey, as if he could fight off the blue, and looked up towards the Lions’ box. He couldn’t see much, but he knew Regulus was up there. Remus’ family, too. Julian.

He knew it was just a cup made of silver. It didn’t do anyone much good. It was heavy and bulky and merely a representation of something, not a real…thing. It wasn’t victory, he just thought of winning when he thought of the cup. But he still wanted to win it for them. Regulus, Hope, Lyall, Julian. Remus. James. Leo. Finn and Kasey. Logan.

Himself. Even himself. That was new. Remus caught his eye and gave a firm nod. He wanted a lot of things for himself it turned out. That had taken the place of the nervous, horrifying need to win it for his parents.

Alex got kicked out of the opening face-off, much to the crowd’s outrage, and suddenly Sirius was face-to-face with Logan.

Sirius sighed. “It’s you. Hi.”

Logan smiled. “Are we really speaking English right now?”

Sirius just smiled.

“Well,” the referee said. “I guess I don’t have to tell you two to keep it clean.”

He dropped the puck.

Sirius knew James and Remus would fan out behind him if he won it—and win it he did. He could imagine them back there, the beautiful curves of their skates as they pushed backwards. He sent it right onto Remus’ blade, felt it snap there like magnetism. There was no time to look and watch, only to get into position—or, well, this was Remus he was talking about. There was no time to look and watch, only to try and keep up with him. He pushed forward hard as Remus evaded Logan. Sirius hit his stick on the ice and Remus snapped it back to him. Sirius tried not to take a breath as he brought his stick back—

The puck went right past Saint’s shoulder.

Sirius tipped his head back and closed his eyes briefly at the muted roar that followed. Thank you, he thought. Thank you.

He swooped his skates to the side, his feet knowing where the boards curved all on their own, and opened his arms for Remus. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe he was just in love, but he ducked down, visors clashing, and kissed Remus’ grin.

He wanted that photograph on the front page of every newspaper in the entire world, and he wanted a copy of each one.

Finn got a little choked up, watching that replay. The goal was in the first minute. The goal was just one goal. The kiss was everything.

Noelle rested her head on his shoulder briefly, and then put a hand on one of his cheeks and kissed the other.

Remus looked so surprised, and not so surprised. Sirius just let Thomas and James crash into the embrace and listened to his heart in his ears.

“All I gotta know,” James shouted right in his ear. “Is if that’s a new team superstition!”

Sirius just laughed, and James knocked their helmets together. He didn’t take his eyes off of Remus, who was still smiling, delighted. Remus brought his glove up and gave Sirius’ helmet a little shake. I love you, it said.

The first period stayed like that. Miraculously. Strangely. So unusual for the play-offs. Sirius didn’t feel any momentum shifts. The goal, gorgeous and quick as it had been, felt almost non-existent. It could hardly be called a lead and they were all playing like they had everything to lose—which they did.

The hits got worse, too. Kota had taken Logan out against the boards twice. Sirius wasn’t upset at Kota…both times had led to amazing chances on goal. Neither James or Thomas had been able to finish the job. But Sirius was worried. He knew Logan. He could tell Logan was doing his best not to respond in the way he usually would. All bite.

The whistle went for off-sides and Sirius saw Saint pull Logan into the blue paint by his jersey.

“Take the fucking mittens off, Tremblay,” Saint snapped at him. His blocker dug uncomfortably into Logan’s shoulder from Saint’s hold on him. Saint’s eyes were wild behind his mask. “I swear to fucking God. Forget them. You have to forget them right fucking now.”

Logan felt sweat dripping into his mouth. Leo. LeoLeo. “I’m trying to keep it a clean game.”

Saint made a disgusted sound and let go.

“Seb.” Luke skated up beside Logan. He had a slight cut on his upper cheek from a high stick. “We got you. It’s all right.”

“I don’t feel got.” Saint pushed his mask up for water as the referee called them to the circle.

Logan clenched his jaw and turned away.

“He just wants this,” Luke said, staying close to his shoulder.

“We all want this.”

“Saint wants it more.” When Logan looked at him, ready to brush that off as bullshit, Luke’s face, the green fleck bright in his brown eyes, was serious. “Saint wants everything more.”

“More than you?”

It occurred to Logan that there were different ways Luke could take that question. Luke didn’t answer any of them.

“Remember,” Luke said softly to him. “If I can, I’ll take the shot.”

The rest of the sentence was left unsaid. Luke turned away and put his mouth guard back in. He tapped Alex’s calf encouragingly as he got ready to face-off.

If I can’t, you have to. You have to.

Leo took some water, then squirted some down the back of his neck. He looked up at the clock. He looked up at the crowd and wished he could find Finn. Logan hadn’t looked at him yet while on the ice, which was probably a good thing. Leo couldn’t handle that green right now. It still took him a moment to recognize the 71 on his jersey.

No breakaways yet, which was something at least. He liked their defense. He didn’t feel that jump in his muscles whenever the puck crossed the blue line like he sometimes did. There was trust in this game, and Leo needed to lean on that now more than ever.

Alex raced towards him after puck drop, the rubber disk on his stick.

Leo watched. That was so much of what he did. Watch. That little black dot. He curled his fingers tight inside his glove and blocker and stayed low, following Alex’s feet, then Logan’s, then Luke’s. Where their feet pointed, they would shoot. It was like the tell that magazines wrote about attraction. The feet went where the person wanted to go.

Logan’s feet were pointed right at him, the hard toes of his skates pushing hard and outpacing Kota—but only just. Leo could have predicted that Kota would steal that puck from Logan, poking it out of his control with his longer reach.

Leo saw Logan’s face tense as he easily swung himself back around, his and Kota’s sticks clashing. Kota had been going hard on Logan tonight, but cleanly, and Leo knew Logan was used to it. He liked it, putting pressure on his opponents and receiving pressure in return. That didn’t mean Leo liked standing there with nothing to do but watch as Logan took a hit from some one who, in Leo’s mind, still looked like Logan’s own teammate. Red. Logan should’ve been in red right now.

The puck went back to Alex around the center line, and Leo watched for off sides, ready to raise his glove in protest, but Alex pulled it off clean. The ref spread his arms to signal it to the rest of the ice. Luke was waiting for Alex, holding his own against Thomas. He acted quickly. No sooner had he caught Alex’s pass as he raced up the ice than did he send it cross-ice to Logan—probably meant to make Leo have to stay up on his feet. Leo knew Logan. If Logan kept it—and he might—he’d stay back. He’d shoot from farther away. Leo edged a little farther out of the blue paint in front of the goal. When Logan passed it back to Luke, he sank back in, the posts coming into the edges of his vision. Luke was about to pass it back, Leo watched his feet, but no sooner had the puck begun its track across the ice than did Kota slam into Logan in a mid-ice hit. Clean. Clean, Leo reminded himself as his heart jolted with fear. No contact above Logan’s shoulders. That didn’t mean it didn’t make him hiss in a breath through his teeth.

The crowd roared again, and then louder when Logan pushed back up to his feet. He looked at Kota and Kota looked at him. Logan said something that had a snarl to it and Leo thought, this is the person who took your place.

They dropped their gloves at the same time.

“Lord,” Leo breathed to himself.

He pushed up and out of position, but kept his mask on. When Logan was fighting, the mask let him watch in private. Kota knocked off Logan’s helmet almost as soon as Logan knocked off his. His dark hair was sweaty and curling, and his fists looked strong as he made a grab for Kota’s jersey and latched on.

“Lo…” Leo whispered to himself. Kota had a good head over Logan, but Logan had him on his back in a headlock in five seconds. Easy. He snarled something else and then got up and skated to the box without any prompting from the timid looking referee. Madison Square Garden was on its feet, and they were about to play their first four on four of the night.

They were still 1-0 Lions as Sirius waited by the door for everyone to file off the ice at the first intermission. Remus came to him last, and Sirius was sure there were about four TV cameras on them, but Remus didn’t even try to hide his smile, or his laugh, happy and tumbling.

“Quoi?” Sirius asked, grinning back.

“Oh. I just wish we had been in a home crowd for that.”

“Don’t worry,” he said as he followed Remus off the ice. He reached up to brush his glove against the hands of a few screaming Lions fans. “We will be.”

Leo was pulled out of the line for the first intermission interview, and Sirius, upon seeing Kasey leaning against the side of the doorway to watch, decided to stop, too.

“How’s the kid?” Sirius asked, even though Leo hardly felt like the kid of the team anymore. He hadn’t ever, really.

Kasey had his hair pulled back into a bun, scruff on his cheeks. He thought for a moment, rubbing at his jaw, then said, “Powerful.”

Sirius nodded. “Looks good out there.”

“Yeah,” Kasey said, then sighed, watching Leo wipe his face with a towel as he listened to the question. “Looks tired up close.”

Sirius wouldn’t have said it. At least not out loud. And Leo was good at hiding it either way. He made Marlene laugh. He smiled and let his blue eyes flash up towards the bright light of the camera in his face. He thanked her graciously and stayed a moment to talk even when the camera had lowered, the feed having cut away.

“But powerful,” Kasey repeated. “Like I said.” He looked over at Sirius. “Nice celly out there.”

“Well deserved,” Sirius said.

Kasey laughed. “Sure thing, Cap.”

Kasey followed him into the locker room and Sirius stripped off his jersey, handing it off to be replaced with a fresh one. He wished it was their home locker room. He wished he knew its every corner. The back and forth to New York lately didn’t even come close to the familiarity he had with Gryffindor.

But Remus. Remus knew his every line and shape. He was standing with Layla near the water bottles. Something about his posture, the way he had his arms crossed, made Sirius feel like he was still wearing his PT uniform, the Lions logo small and over his heart rather than taking up his entire chest on a jersey. Sirius sat down in his own stall slowly. He unstrapped his elbow guards without looking away. He couldn’t entirely believe he had spent so long thinking that this, glimpses of Remus all the way across a room, was as close as he was ever going to get.

Remus felt his gaze. Caught him at it. Smiled.

Sirius had to shake himself. 1-0 was nothing in the first period. He should be thinking about their defense right now. And stupid penalties. Definitely not about that ring tattoo he had promised himself. Definitely not about summer.

He sighed, briefly wondering why everyone thought being the captain was so great, and pushed himself back up. He pulled his shoulder and chest pads over his head and dumped them in his stall before striding towards Kota.

Kota had the decency looked a little worried. He knew that he’d pulled them down a man twice, nearly back to back. He knew they were starting the second period four on four because of him, plus an extra two for roughing. The Rangers would have the advantage for two whole minutes after resting for a whole fifteen. Logan would be pissed. Alex would be pissed. Montague would be really pissed.

Kota pulled his headphones out of his ears. “I know, Cap. I know.”

Sirius nodded slowly. They didn’t know each other that well—not compared to the other guys—but Sirius appreciated a player taking responsibility when he saw it. He didn’t appreciate the way Kota looked like he was going to spend the fifteen minutes until they were back in the tunnel kicking himself.

“I know you know,” Sirius said. “And those were clean. I’m just saying…unless you think a hit will draw something, let’s keep it even strength.”

Yeah,” Kota said. “I know…You’re right.”

“Look. I’m not—I didn’t come over here to tell you that you messed up.”

Kota sighed. “Well. Thanks, I guess.”

“Just…try to reset.” The words felt ridiculous, coming from him, and Sirius swore he felt Remus look at his back, overhearing. “It’s a new game next period.”

Hypocrite, he could hear Regulus say. Like you’ve ever reset after a period in your life.

What did he do then? Saying being up one in a knock-out game was nothing was anything but a reset. God, he just kicked himself and kicked himself until he forced the good in him out. Until he played well.

“It’s not, though,” Kota said softly.

Sirius huffed out a laugh, tasting the bitter sound. At least he wasn’t the only one.

“Non,” he conceded, and set a hand on Kota’s shoulder. “Stay out of the fucking box.”

Kota smiled a little. “Yeah. That’s more what I thought you were gonna say.”

“I was trying to be nice.”

“I wish Tremblay would try to be nice.”

Leo, sitting beside him, laughed out loud. “Good luck with that, K.”

Finn had tried his best to not miss any of the action, but he needed a break when he needed a break. He never wanted to be back in a place where the lights took on a glare at the edges, colorful and impossible to look at. He had memories of Logan from Harvard haloed in strange glows. Kissing his cheeks and neck in that dim fuzzy light. He wasn’t sure which ones were dreams.

He waited, at least, for a TV time out, and watched Leo and Logan skate to opposite benches for water before pushing out of his seat. He found a section of the inner hallways that was dim and quiet and tilted his head back against the wall. His sling was digging into the collar of his shirt and he sighed. He wished for sweatpants and a bed, or a jersey and the ice.

Finn didn’t realize Natalie had followed him into the dim hallway until she cleared her throat. He opened his eyes just as she leaned on the wall across from him, crossing her thick-soled, dark red combat boots.

“Just a little light sensitivity,” Finn said. “Supposed to take breaks. Maybe I could wear tinted glasses inside? Don’t know how I feel about looking like a shitty rock star.”

Natalie smiled. “I think you could pull it off.”

“No, you could pull it off.”

“Well, I won’t argue with that.”

Finn smiled. His eyes had dropped to the ring on her finger, holding a glare of its own, and she must have caught him at it because she began twisting it. Almost nervously. And Natalie didn’t get nervous.

“Very shiny,” Finn said. “I mean, I think that’s probably, like, a requirement with rings, but damn. That thing got a light bulb in it or something?”

Natalie raised unimpressed eyebrows at him. “Just say it, Finn.”

“Say what?”

“I’m very versed in O’Hara maneuvers. Just. Say it.”

Finn’s mind began trying to jump ahead. Trying to figure out, as it always seem to, what she wanted him to say. The best way to say it.

He ended up with the truth, blurted out and soft. “You’re not going to marry Kasey and then suddenly decide…” He thought of Alex’s small figure, down below on the ice.

He didn’t know why he was choosing now to be worried about this. Why she was choosing now to talk it over. Period two was going on and—

The stadium erupted. They both listened until the goal song played—The Rangers had scored, then. Leo, was his first thought, and then Logan?

“1-1,” he said, he pushed up from the wall. His head still hurt but he wasn’t sure how to talk about this. Yes, maybe he was worried about Alex. But that wasn’t because of Kasey and Natalie. It was because Alex would do anything for anyone.

“Are you going to suddenly ditch Leo?” Natalie asked.

Finn shot her a disgusted look. The announcer, echoing over the ice said, Rangers goal by number 10—Finn’s heart stopped before he remembered that wasn’t Logan’s number anymore—Artemi Panarin! He let out a relieved breath.

“Well then don’t ask me that question if it’s so fucking absurd.” Natalie pushed up from the wall, too. “What the hell, Freckle?”

“Okay,” Finn said. “All right. I get it. I’m sorry, I just…”

“You just. I’ll tell you what you just. You O’Haras just sure like the feeling of the entire world on your shoulders.”

“Not really.”

Natalie looked at him for a long moment, then sighed. “Yeah.”

Finn watched her as her gaze dropped to her shoes. He’d seen Natalie at parties, whirling on the dance floor. He’d seen her on stage, performing small venues packed to the brim with people that adored her—one time waltzing around stage in nothing but a Winter jersey and tiny, tiny shorts, and knee high boots. He’d never seen her looking down like that before. It made her hair fall in her face, sort of the way Leo’s did when he was down. And he’d been down so much lately.

Another goal horn. Another goal song. It was the Rangers again. 2-1. Finn closed his eyes. The Lions were behind, scored on nearly back to back, within minutes of each other.

“It was Kasey and I for a long time,” Natalie said. “You know?”

“I do and I don’t.” Finn put his hand into his pocket. “It was Logan and I for a long time…but it also wasn’t. You know?”

Natalie nodded. “I know. I know what you must be thinking but—God, Finn. I do love your brother.”

“I didn’t mean to make you think I didn’t know that.”

“I know.” She held out a hand, lips pressed into a melancholy smile. She shook her blond hair out of her face and tilted her chin up. The way Leo did when he was proud, or winning. God, please let him win. Logan, I love you, but please.

The announcer, deep and booming, said goal by number 71, Logan Tremblay!

“Fuck,” Natalie said softly, looking towards the sound of the crowd. “Logan. Leo…”

Finn couldn’t say anything. This was awful.

“Come on,” Natalie said. “We’re missing all the action. Just a little longer and one of us will have one boyfriend each back around the house again.”

Finn sighed. “That’s good for no one but us.”

“Then we’ll keep our glee to ourselves and kiss them until it feels better.”

Leo threw off his top pads and jersey and went to the restroom mostly to have a moment by himself. The cool air in the hallway made goosebumps raise over his bare, sweat-slick shoulders and chest, and he pushed into the bathroom to run warm water over his hands, then ice cold water on his face. It was an old trick of Kasey’s. He’d told Leo about it just a few days into his first season. Leo wasn’t even sure what the trick was, but it helped. Maybe it was just because Kasey Winter had told him he did it.

Sirius had called for players only in the locker room, but he needed a minute. Just one minute. He tried looking at himself, but that felt like too much and so he closed his eyes, hands braced on either side of the sink. 2-1. He’d let in back-to-backs and one of them had been from—

Two arms suddenly went around his bare waist and his eyes opened, looking forward into the mirror.

Logan’s green eyes looked back at him from around his shoulder. He dropped his gaze for a moment, nervous, then looked back at Leo and turned his face against his bicep, lips brushing the skin. He was still wearing his undershirt and shoulder pads. They scratched against Leo’s back. Logan’s body felt hot from skating, but his hands were freezing against Leo’s stomach. His dark hair was a dripping sweaty mess all over Leo’s shoulder, his knuckles were busted and had dried blood on them…Leo couldn’t have loved him more.

Leo turned in Logan’s arms and leaned down until he could bury his face against his neck. Logan said something soft, maybe more of a sound than a word, and held him tighter. They were quiet. Leo wasn’t sure what there was to say. An apology felt wrong. It was all just part of the game. They also didn’t have the time. He had to go back in. Listen to Sirius. He had to get dressed, the buckles and the straps and the tightening. Logan had to get back to his locker room.

It was all the game—all of it except this. Logan letting Leo pull back. Logan’s eyes falling closed as Leo pressed a kiss to his forehead. Logan pressing a kiss right over his heart. Logan letting Leo leave the bathroom first before following. Logan looking back at him as he walked away and catching Leo doing the very same thing. That moment hadn’t been the game. That had been just for them.

Coach hadn’t resisted when Sirius called for players only during the second intermission. He’d simply taken his clipboard and his staff and left the visitor’s locker room to Sirius and his boys.

It wasn’t quiet, exactly. No one was speaking, but it wasn’t quiet. There was a thrum, energy mostly. Dissipating, then building and dissipating again as if with each player’s breathing. Sirius could feel every single one of them around him from his place in the center of the room. Like rays of heat, coming towards him. Leo had his eyes open, staring up at the ceiling without an expression on his face. Thomas had one earbud in. Pascal had ice on his thigh. James had ice on his shoulder. They were beat up. It had already been a long season and they weren’t finished yet. Each and every one of them was feeling that. Sirius knew. Remus had his eyes closed, hunched over with his elbows on his knees and his fingers locked. He looked like he was praying, but Sirius knew better. By the slight flick of his eyelids moving, Sirius knew he was rehearsing.

It was a show as much as it was a game. It was a plot, and everything was twisting, changing, always.

Two horrible goals let in by sloppy playing. Sirius wanted to grab that moment by its very fabric and rip it away, bundle it back in to where no one could see it. It had happened so fast. He saw, in Remus’ face, when he reached that point in his mental image of the game. His mouth pulled tight and he winced, sitting up and opening his eyes with a harsh exhale.

“I used to wish I could rehearse it,” Sirius said, keeping his eyes on Remus. Remus’ eyes softened. They said, of course you knew.

“Alors,” Sirius sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked behind him and found a stool. It had wads of used tape on it, misses from one of the garbage cans, and he brushed it off and sat, right there in the center of all of them. “Just—rehearse it and then do it. Playing well. Playing right.”

He looked up again and realized it was quiet now. Silent. Quieter than he’d ever heard their locker room. He looked down against a burst of hesitation. One of the stick tape balls had latched onto the bulk of his padded pants and he picked it up, mostly just for something to do with his hands. He knew he should be looking at them. Looking around the room.

Look up when you are speaking, Sirius. His mother’s voice came to him suddenly and his flinch was as exposed as Remus’ had been about the game. His eyes, involuntarily, darted to Pascal. Yes. He had noticed. Sirius looked back down. He didn’t have to look to see if Remus and James’ had.

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” James’ voice came and Sirius nearly closed his eyes he was so grateful. He had always been grateful for James.

James smiled at him from across the locker room, elbows on his padded knees. Sweat kept his hair out of his face and he had his contacts in. It made him look entirely different, Sirius had always thought. But not when he smiled. Then he became himself again.

“Ouais,” Sirius said with a slight smile in return. He looked down at the tape sticking and unravelling then reforming into a ball between his restless hands. “Yeah.” He took a breath. “Listen, part of me still feels weird, doing things like this. I didn’t say more than three words to half of you when I first came and I was a dick to the other half.” That got him a few laughs. He risked a glance up at Remus, who was suppressing a smile. “And it’s not like this is some speech and then we go out there and get the Cup. Non, we go out there and get to the next round which gets us to the next round….And it feels long this year.”

Some murmurs of agreement. Pascal shifted his ice to his other thigh—no, his hip. Sirius wanted to take all the pain from them and press it into himself.

Again. His father’s voice. Again, again.

“We’re one behind,” Sirius said. “It’s not much. The Rags are down the hall right now thinking about how dangerous a lead that is.”

“So, let’s be dangerous.” Thomas smiled wide.

“We are dangerous, T,” James said.

“If we are, we’re not playing like it,” Sirius said. “And none of us are okay with that, right? We have to fight harder.”

“Montague has an emotional game,” Leo said suddenly. “If you keep crashing the net, something’s going to piss him off and he’ll miss something.”

Sirius’ eyes went to Kasey, who looked back for a moment before returning his gaze to Leo. Tired. Powerful. He thought of Logan’s tipped-in goal, and how he’d stared after the puck for a moment as if he hadn’t meant for it to go in at all.

“I want to win back to back,” Sirius said. “Who else?”

Thomas, predictably, was the first to shout. He rose and pounded three times on the side of his stall. James laughed, Evgeni let out a loud shout—maybe something in Russian—and then they were chaos. All that quiet energy being let out as they made their way back towards the ice tunnel. Coach didn’t say a word to him, but when they had skated a few laps to the riotous sound of Madison Square Garden, Coach didn’t even look down at his line-up card before putting Sirius, James, and Remus out there first.

Logan’s wrist tweaked every time he turned it just so. Luke had gotten his cheek stitched up before the start of the third. Will had iced his shoulder until the very last minute after a solid hit by Evgeni, and Saint had kept his eyes closed nearly the entire intermission, zoned out to anything but the game. Crazy goalie, Percy had said as he passed him, but the words carried no real heat. They were banged up and tired, but the adrenaline filled the ice like water. Logan didn’t even try to keep his head above it. He breathed it in so that he didn’t think too hard, and so his body didn’t dissolve into any post-game pain.

He’d held Leo for a moment. That was what mattered as they stepped back out onto the ice for the third period. He’d scored on Leo, and Leo had still let him take him into his arms.

Alex skated up beside him and Logan knew he had something to say by the set of his mouth alone. It was very Finn.

“I know, O’Hara,” Logan said, but he sort of thought he needed to hear this anyway.

“If—let’s just say, if the opportunity presents itself…” Alex winced but continued. “You should probably try to make it seem like you meant to score this time around.”

Logan had heard it on the Rangers intermission report on TV, the commentators having a bit of a laugh at his expense. Sure enough, the game video showed him—and they had put it in slow motion, thanks a lot—blinking down at the lit up goal as his teammates put their hands up in celebration, as if he hadn’t remembered it was there.

“Shut up,” Logan said, but he really meant I’m trying.

Remus was aware of the ache in his muscles, but only barely. He was aware of the crowd, but only in the same way he became aware of their air conditioner in the first moments of waking up. A sound that meant nothing. It was just noise.

The force of his own body colliding against the shuddering glass thanks to Percy Marshall brought it all back into focus. The crowd roared with the hit, and Remus forced the breath out of his lungs. He ignored the fear—the phantom twinge in his shoulder and neck. He dove back for the puck.

He couldn’t watch himself lose this game. He couldn’t allow it. And yet, he had a sliver of control over it. He could pick the puck right off of Percy’s stick, but whatever greater force there was didn’t stop Luke Deveaux from being right there to block the lane he had thought was clear. He was pushed back behind the net, behind Leo, who turned towards him without taking his eyes off of Luke.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” Remus said, then did his best to push into a burst of speed.

It worked for a second. He blew past Luke, who he heard curse as he skated hard backwards before turning to race after him.

“Re!” He heard Sirius’ stick tap twice on the ice and Remus passed. Sirius caught the puck in the cradle of his blade and then Remus was swinging his skates around with a sharp sound. His back was to the net, waiting for a pass back while also wanting to keep Luke in his sight. They crossed center ice cleanly, but Remus could almost feel the moment Logan got on the ice. The crowd changed, hoping—or maybe even expecting another goal from their newest member. Remus wondered if Leo’s posture had changed in the net.

He watched the way Sirius fought through it, the energy shift. His grey eyes were clouds and steel as he pulled his stick back. It should have sent Luke lunging forward into his path. Instead, when Sirius faked and passed to Remus, and when Remus got down on one knee to slap it hard towards the goal, Luke jolted the correct way. Even as Saint’s glove raised too slow, Remus’ shot hit Luke squarely in the shin and then rolled harmlessly until Saint covered the puck with his glove.

The whistle went and Luke stayed on his hands and knees, grimacing. Remus stopped hard inches from him.

“You okay?”

“Fuck, Lupin,” Luke groaned.

Saint was in his face in a moment, shoving him back, eyes hard behind his mask. “Can I fucking help you?”

“Whoa,” Remus put a hand up. “I—”

“He’s checking on me,” Luke said, pushing to his feet. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Are you?” Saint turned to look at him. His eyes raked up and down, checking.

“Yes,” Luke said, and it was much more gentle.

Remus tried to catch his breath as he turned. He caught Logan’s eye for a moment, but they both looked away.

He looked up at the big screen to see the reply—to see what had given him and Sirius away. He only caught enough in time to watch Sirius’ face fall, in slow motion. Eyes closing, mouth forming a thin line of disappointment.

They weren’t getting through. They just weren’t.

Sirius skated beside him, taking his mouthguard out. “It was my fault.”

They skated to the bench together and Remus reached for the iPad once they were in their seats. “I missed the replay, so we’ll see about that.”

But he didn’t have time to look. Thomas slugged him hard in the arm and, when he looked up, it was to find Pascal alone in front of a gassed Fox and Lindgren. He’d broken away. He was headed right towards Saint.

“Merde,” Sirius breathed from beside him. “Please…”

Pascal faked one way, then the other, beautiful, smooth skill that Remus had admired for years.

Then Pascal took the puck, as if it were part of his own body, and put it right under Saint’s left pad.

Remus heard Sirius and his own shouts mingle as they rose to their feet, sticks raised.

Pascal was grinning by the time he made it back to the bench, glove held up to be bumped down the line.

“I think I still got it, boys!” he called.

2-2. Something had to change.

Logan was becoming increasingly wary of a frustrated Sirius Black. He knew better than anyone what that meant, and it didn’t matter that there was six minutes left on the clock.

He caught a shot of Leo with his mask up on the big screen. He looked good. Anxious, but solid.

“So,” Alex asked as they sat down on the bench, breathing hard. “How was he?”

“Quoi?” Logan tried to catch his breath between drinks of water.

“Secret lover rendezvous.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Alex just shook his head and smiled.

The clock was at five minutes and thirty seconds by the time Logan got back on the ice, and then four minutes and twenty seconds, and then three minutes and fifteen seconds. Still, nothing. Neither team was budging.

One minute seven seconds now. Coach was double shifting him and Luke. There was no time to think. Logan jumped the boards and skated hard to catch up with the action. Will had forced a turn-over and was now trapped between Olli and Pascal. It was a good coaching call. Arthur had obviously thought Logan’s line would rest another shift, but the Rangers hadn’t given him the time to put Sirius and Remus out against them once again. Logan knew they were the better line and that this was their chance to even the score.

The whistle went at forty-five seconds remaining for over the glass deflection right near Saint’s goal. When he looked towards the Rangers’ bench, Coach shook his head. Stay on.

That should have felt better than it did. It should have felt like trust and confidence. Instead, Logan filled with dread.

“Hey.” Luke bumped their shoulders, holding a glove him to his mouth so no camera could read his lips. “Remember what I said. If I can, I’ll do it.”

It was kind, but it was a fantasy. There was no guarantee, and they would both be killed by the coaching staff, not to mention the media, if they over-passed at such a high stakes moment.

“Thanks,” Logan said, because they both knew the truth. Luke’s smile was tight. Logan wondered if some part of him actually did wonder if Logan could follow through.

The thought struck a competitive chord within Logan that he wanted nothing to do with.

Alex got kicked from the face-off yet again—along with a sharp stop mouthing off, O’Hara! from the ref. It left Logan face-to-face with Sirius again, just as he’d been at the very beginning of this game.

They looked at each other. Sirius, who had seen him at his worst and at his best. Sirius, who he’d gone from looking up to, to calling one of his closest friends.

Sirius offered a small smile. “Friends either way?” he asked in French.

Logan nodded. “Toujours.” Always.

Sirius won the puck, but he didn’t hold onto it. It was a strange scrabble. Logan found himself playing from his knees at one point, fighting against Sirius and James’ shoulders and sticks.

“Tremz!” Luke shouted.

Logan shoved the puck towards him in a motion that carried enough momentum to land him sprawled on his belly.

“Merde,” Sirius cursed, and they both scrambled up.

Part of his mind was only on the fact that Luke had the puck and that he hoped the others could keep it if they were going to score. That didn’t mean he stayed out of position, but every part of him fought and wavered. Take the shot. Pass. Take the shot. Luke, obviously, was trying to keep the puck away from Logan, too.

But Percy didn’t know about their pact. When he was cornered by Remus, he sent a clean pass straight towards Logan.

The puck hit his stick blade right in front of Leo—and there was no time. There was no time to look for Luke. There was no space. A pass would send him, and maybe Luke, too, spilling right into Leo’s blue paint and goal. Logan realized he was holding his breath because it felt like the ice was closing in on him, so cold that it burned.

He looked right at Leo. He could hardly see his blue eyes through the mask’s shadow, only the red and gold gleaming paint and the lions teeth drawn around the cage. He could see Leo recognize his movements though. He knew Leo would recognize his movements. He knew Leo’s play just as well as Leo knew his.

Don’t. Every muscle in his body screamed the word. Not him. Don’t do this to him.

But Leo would hate him if he knew he was holding back, wouldn’t he?

Logan would hate himself either way.

There was no time.

Remus could only watch as Logan pulled his stick back. If this went in, it was over. If this went in, the Lions were finished.

“Read him,” he heard Sirius say in a fast rush of French. “Read him, Leo, read him—”

Please, Remus thought. Please.

Please, Logan thought, wind on his face.

Please. It filled his whole being.

Please, he begged, someone, anyone. He didn’t even know what he was begging for.

He whipped the puck forward, right at Leo, and watched it leave the ice, flat disk wavering against the air.

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