#han: whatever average tuesday let's leave

[stealingpotatoes]

hey i said i'd continue the timejump au! I just... didn't say (or realise) it was gonna take me 6 months... [first] [prev]

(commission info // kofi support!)

[maikatc]

Black Sun Tale | First Meal

i kNOW IT’S MIDNIGHT AND IT’S VERY LATE BUT I SAID I’D POST IT ‘TOMORROW’ AND RIGHT NOW ITS TONIGHT I’M GETTING THIS–

that being said, remember that this is a first draft with only minor edits, but regardless enjoy! comments and reception is always appreciated. 

-

A gathering placed itself in the living room on a midwinter’s day. Cups stacked up around each other at the table whilst the group of three conversed together. 

“Now then,” Ayu sat beside Oliver, a cup of apple juice in his hand after becoming a fanatic over it. They both eyed Vittorino in their seats for the new conversation topic. “What are people in your society like,” Ayu asked. 

Oliver never bothered with the question, considering already meeting two of the second eras and never wanting to meet another again. “I think you should know what they’re like, Ayu.” 

“I still wanna know,” Ayu retorted. 

The question still had Oliver rolling his eyes. But he allowed Vittorino to speak for once. 

The teen rolled back on his chair, facing upwards and reaching for what to say. “That isn’t that great of a question,” he said, “they all kinda suck.” 

“Of course, they would,” Oliver commented. 

Ayu sipped on his cup, but continued asking questions. “But, weren’t you basically raised with them?”

He shrugged in his seat. “Sure, yeah. We talk like a normal family almost, but I think we can all agree that we’re all dysfunctional for one another.” 

The interest finally peaked for Oliver, his ears raising, and he asked another question. “How come?”

“It’s just how we were raised,” he answered. “We didn’t have to like people and get along with our situation. Mei-ling never bothered with us; Adeen’s a baby; Orelia’s too mental to deal with; and Hans and Margaret, well, they’re nice to each other, but they’ll nitpick and gossip every little thing about you.”

“… And that isn’t even half of it?”

“No,” he sighed. “There were too many kids that were ditched in forests or being ignored by parents or something back then. There’s still some getting picked up today, but most refuse getting contracts for murder nowadays so that’s good. No more that I have to deal with.” 

Ayu tilted his head, changing to an expression of confusion, but reverted back to drinking. 

“And how do people complain about you?” 

“Easy, I’m apparently a personality-switching kinda guy, and rude both ways. So, people get irritable around me most of the time.” 

Ayu then told him, “You aren’t that annoying.” 

“I wouldn’t deny what they say,” he said, “I’m supposed to be the voices in people’s heads. I’m sure that’d make me a bit of a pest when they want to die.”

“… You know, you’re all mental,” Oliver said. 

And Vittorino only replied, “It’s our specialty.” Then after another one of Ayu’s sips, he reminded him, “It’s about time we get to Alice, Oliver.” 

“Oh right.” He sat up, brushing off whatever imaginary guts he left on his cardigan. Ayu in particular checked for any earlier, but precaution always arrived first for everything. “Guess I’ve been procrastinating for once.” 

“My, what a feat,” Vittorino sarcastically claimed. He jumped up himself from a seat to summon a door. 

Though, before the rush to attend training, Oliver noted to ask Ayu, “Do you need anything for when I get back?”

He set down the cup and answered, “I think I’m fine. I’ll try and make food myself before you get back.”

“That’s good to hear,” he opened the door, “’means you’re listening to my lessons?” 

“Obviously. I don’t want you to cook for me all the time.”

Oliver joked, “What? Makes you feel like a baby?”

His shoulders drooped while he eyed away in a reply, “No… well, maybe– but I just feel bad about you having to be responsible for me.”

A smile crept while Oliver sided his own eyes. “You’re definitely more selfless than most kids our age.”

“I wouldn’t say that…”

“I would.” Oliver let Vittorino pass before he closed the door himself. “See ya later, Ayu.”

The transition from a homey living room to the vast, dead-inside forests of Fowls never flinched Oliver anymore. He stepped out of the entrance, following the routine of his early stretches and a heavy breather for what he could only dream as fresh air. 

Vittorino already wandered off as per usual, and Oliver left himself to his own devices of finding the nearest human in a nature walk. 

The barks on the trees had begun to peek interest to him after the many times of walking past them. Questions spurred his curiosity in tendrils around the wood as he eyed them in a pace for someone else. For, what would those trees be made out of, that had no substance of plastic yet no life of true bark. The feeling of reality, melded with the missing authenticity, brought Oliver to a puzzle and kept his mind off of his lonesome. 

“Oliver!” Alice appeared from behind a tree to even Oliver’s surprised.

He swore, and stumbled back from the flinch of his senses. Retaining his balance once again, Oliver asked with a confusing exhale, “Why meet here of all places?”

She answered, “I knew you’d be here. Vittorino left you to yourself in this forest, hasn’t he?”

The question forced him to nod. 

“Can’t leave you alone like that, now can we?” 

The comment wavered in Oliver’s ears as Alice began walking onwards. He followed, but begged to ask, “Did he tell you?”

“Of what?” 

“Of–” Oliver stopped. The admittance of past desperation from months ago fluttered out of the system, had it not? “Never mind, it was a while ago, I guess.” 

A judging glare from Alice turned to a worriless smile in an instant. “I suppose I should be of concern for it, but it’s likely I already have my sources for it.” 

“And… what’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Oh, simply my usual way of learning.”

The grass crinkled whilst Oliver theorized the many ways the statement alluded itself to. “… Alright.” 

“How has your latest batch been doing for you,” she asked. 

The question Oliver expected still led him rummaging his hands behind him. His gluttony managed to indulge itself in eating the entire bag of meat in one day. However, the heart of a liar never quit. “It’s a pretty good one this week,” he smiled, “Margaret’s got nice catches this week.” And oh, did he hate those words from his mouth. 

While the fib seemed average on his account, Alice still leered at him with her own grin and continued on. “I see… why, I still have a surprise for you after today’s training.”

“A surprise?”

Nodding her head, her hands guided to the exit and entrance to the field. “I hope you’ll like it, but you have to finish your work first, remember.”

A groan almost hefted from Oliver’s voice. “What are we even doing today?”

She pointed towards a stool in the distance with giddy reach and answered, “This.” 

The stool barred a cup, from what Oliver’s perspective held, an average metallic cup without even a shine. Bemused, he asked, “What am I doing with it?” 

“It’s a small subject, but you’ll be making the item invisible today.” 

“Oh,” the difficulty of the subject before irked him at the new idea, “doesn’t seem that hard, but how do I do it?”

They surrounded the stool together as Alice answered, “In all honesty, this is the subject I know least about. Christopher never used it all that much, but it might be of convenience to you some day. All you need to do, from what I can assume, is practice what you have done, just on another object that isn’t yourself.”

Oliver glared at the cup. “It took me three months to figure out invisibility and now I’m off to calculus.” 

“Excuse me?”

“It’s fine. You don’t know useless classes,” he threw off. 

God-fucking-damn it. Oliver groaned at his grass-bed seat. The cup tucked itself within the grasps of his hands; however, his hands were the ones to disappear instead of the cup. Alice already went off to whatever affairs he imagined, perhaps a killing or who knows, abandoning another child into their own devices. How tiring. 

Another tiring factor appeared the more his magic efforts put into his energy, as it all dwindled in his noticeable and reminding stomach. 

The cup still mocked him, rustic and dull in its place, much to Oliver’s annoyance. “Why couldn’t we have done this on Tuesday?” An hour or so had already passed, he assumed. His patience in being left isolated had improved and the forest brought him more comfort in space, but that never fixed anything.  “Can you just work with me here?” 

He glared at the cup, hoping its disappearance would be apparent this time, unlike the multiple other times he used to same strategy. But to no avail, he fell over to the ground. 

The sky irritated him that day, as he stared at it in his frustrations. No beauty was present just like his skills. Though, eventually he sighed, “Hey Vittorino, I think I’m bored this time.”

The sound of a door opening appeared in front of him, only to answer, “Not right now, Alice told me to talk to Ayu.” 

“Again?”

“Yeah, and Ayu’s being a peeve.”

“Alright then,” he sighed. 

In which Vittorino then asked, “Are you dying right now?” 

“Just a little bit mentally.” 

“Nothing serious?”

“Not really.” 

“’Kay, I’ll check in later.” And the door silently closed. 

Back in silence, Oliver wiggled himself in the grass for some time, bringing himself back to his senses. Although a figure interrupted his personal forest ritual. 

“Tired, are you,” Alice asked. 

In seconds, Oliver brought himself up again. “Yeah.” 

“Figured. You seemed paler today if you didn’t think I’d notice.”

He rolled his eyes, “Course, I didn’t.”

With a giggle, she forwarded herself to the cottage. “Here, follow me.”

Drifting off with her, a familiar friend exited from inside and into the porch. She huffed in her plain dress with her coat hanged by the side, and placed her arms tucked together by the door. “You ask me to help you cook when we haven’t done culinary since the 17th century.”

“Is it a bother?”

“Of course, it is,” Eilwen exclaimed. “You’ve seen the amount of times we almost cut a finger.” 

In a retort, Alice continued talking. “Well, we aren’t ones to use blades normally, but is it ready?”

With a nod, Eilwen gestured towards a plate on the outdoor table. 

Alice brought Oliver to said plate and telling the other, “Thank you, it looks lovely.”

Oliver begged the question, with the attractive scent of the dish in front of him. “Uh, Alice? What is this?” 

The small meal contained a slab of meat, with black speckles of char and a shine on the opposite end, and alongside it contained a collage of vegetables and rice. 

They both sat down while Alice explained. “Well, I’ve heard from Margaret that human meat has a similar taste to pork or veal. So, I imagined it would be nice if you were to have a home-cooked meal of deviled pork, with the flesh as a substitute.”

The words brought oddity within Oliver. “Huh…,” he breathed. Poking the food with a fork beside him, he stared at the strange thought of a filling, cooked meal. 

“Don’t forget to eat your vegetables,” Alice added. 

Oh yes, the vegetables. “Alice, that’ll just pass through my system.”

She shrugged, a spoon by her hand and balancing on the table. “Just eat it, it’s average motherly words to tell their child, is it not?” 

Eilwen handed off a bowl to her: a trifle stacked with custard and sweet fruits. She cheered a little at the sight, and made dove into it as it hit the table. 

Oliver lifted his brow at her sugary meal. “Shouldn’t you be a good example by eating some veggies too?”

“I’m an adult, you have no say on this matter,” she retorted while chewing. “My! Eilwen, thank you so much for the help today!”

The woman tossed her apron into the other chair as she gathered her own hair back in place. “Never mind it, this break leads to nothing for ourselves, doesn’t it?”

Alice scoffed. “You’re always such a pessimist, nowadays. You should lighten up again like how we met.”

Oliver caught Eilwen rolling her eyes back at her as she stepped out of the cottage porch. “I’m off now. I hope you two have a fine day,” she sighed.

“You, as well!” A dismissing wave appeared from Alice who continued eating her trifle. Once Eilwen disappeared, Alice turned back to the child. “Now then, go on and eat! You haven’t bitten a thing yet!”

“On it, I’m on it,” Oliver repeated to her. The cut of the meat left it harder for Oliver to cut in its density. Although, after some time of gathering every bite of the meal together with a fork, he bit into it. With a chew, there laid a burnt char on his tongue; with another chew, an array of flavor from the juices melted into his mouth. But the taste brought him not of a crazed or desperate ecstasy and greed, but instead the serene texture of real food. The strange reality of the sense left Oliver blank into space, but he ate quickly out of habit. 

“So,” Alice asked, “How was it?”

In a blink, Oliver glanced back down at his empty plate, with leftover browns and goldens. To imagine that Alice was the one to make the meal for him after all the times she had not, in which it never passed through his mind of depravity. He answered to it all with what he always told: “It was pretty good.”

“Oh, thank goodness!” She laughed. “I was hoping you didn’t hear Eilwen talk more but we had no clue what to do with the meat!”

“Well, uh,” Oliver awkwardly laughed. “It’s always good I guess.”

“I’m only glad you liked it. Now I can say I can still feed other people,” she giggled back with him. 

“Wait, what do you mean from that last part–”

“Here, do you want to try my trifle?” She offered the spoon to him. In which, Oliver obliged. 

And soon enough, he entered a coughing fit of spiting it out. “Holy shit that was sweet enough that I thought it was too much.”

Alice laughed at him, all while taking another bite. “Just remember, Margaret’s sweets and tea has even more than mine!”

***

“Thanks, Vittorino for just the door.” Oliver slammed the exit from Fowls in his living room. And in the slam, Vittorino jumped up from his seat and straightened his coat. 

He excused himself. “Come on, I was finishing up my conversation. I’m about to head out anyways.” The door opened again by him and he jumped through. “See you later.”

“Yeah, bye,” Oliver nodded as he stole the new free seat. The entrance disappeared once Oliver tossed his new bag of food aside on the counter. 

Turning the other direction from the food, and slouching into the couch, he found Ayu staring at him keenly with his journal. 

His legs curled up into his seat with joggers that covered up his healing bone of legs. And his eyes peered with the bright mixture of blue and grey. His hair still flew around as the mess it was, albeit floated like a dark cloud in its disaster. Oliver smiled at him, but Ayu only said, “You can’t surprise me by turning invisible again.” 

“Oh really?” An acceptance to the challenge was immediate by just the flick of his magic. Turning invisible eased in mere seconds despite previous difficulties, though the motivations made the magic strong enough.

Ayu soon blinked around and realized. “Goddamn it,” as he sighed up into the air and sketchbook falling out of the symmetry of his legs. 

In his unseen state, Oliver pranced down to behind Ayu, slowly gaining to behind his shoulder. He allowed himself to be known after saying, “You know it isn’t that hard–”

And that was the moment Ayu literally jumped in his seat, jabbing Oliver chin from the shoulder in the process. 

Oliver stumbled and fell back, the same Ayu-pains stinging in his jaw. 

“Oh fuck.” Ayu crawled and fell out of his chair onto the ground with Oliver. “I’m so sorry again.” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” he hissed. “That was a dumbass move from me; I know you’re jumpy sometimes… Plus, it isn’t that bad.” In hesitance, Oliver let go of the pain. “See? No bleeding, and I’ll ice it right now if it bruises.”

“Are you sure,” he stuttered.

“Definitely not your worst accidental hits.” Oliver whisked himself back up, gesturing to his stomach in reference. “I wonder how you would do with a punching bag, to be honest.”

“Really?”

“I’m mainly joking,” Oliver affirmed whilst opening the freezer. “Actually, there was this one time…” 

And yet again, did Oliver tell of another lovely, mundane story of his younger ages. In which Faustus made a fuss with a six-year-old for both not knowing what to do in a sports store. All of it spoken by Oliver in the most vivid details despite the sameness and the bag of frozen veggies on his chin. 

Ayu seemed to have listened, to Oliver’s pleasure. Faustus’ character still laid as an oddity to them both after two months of Oliver telling his stories. However, it was time for Ayu’s sharing. 

“I don’t think I have much about… punching bags?” Oliver nodded to him. “Yeah, I think the closest thing was this kid breaking a chain of one of em in one of my foster homes.” 

Oliver’s eyes widened. “They what?”

“Yeah it was weird. I think we were trying to see who could punch it the furthest and none of us were winning, but some of us thought we were.” 

“Reasonable.”

“And there was this one kid which others were saying didn’t do anything to it, and we left it for the day. And overnight the kid apparently got one of the kitchen knives, climbed up to the top of the stand-thingy, with only a single small cut and no falling, and chainsaw-ed the heck out of it.”

“How old were they?” Oliver asked flabbergasted. 

“I dunno, maybe six? I was five. But they cut up the chain to where it could snap in a single move, and they did just that the next morning to prove himself.”

Oliver laughed. “And how did the forest-parent react?” 

“Oh, she got mad. Like, made a gate to keep us away from the kitchen mad. And eventually give up foster-parenting.” 

“Holy shit,” Oliver gasped in delight. “How come all of your foster-homes were so chaotic?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I bring chaos with me.” 

Oliver giggled at the comment. But then the chin and stomach began to sting the slightest. The distraction caused sighing. “My god, even after Alice gave me food I’m still hungry… I think the chin is making me more drained.”

“Sorry–”

“Holy shit, that’s a lot!” Oliver grabbed the food-bag, opening it to reveal a plethora of more than the regular. He beamed at the amount and the scent and turned to Ayu, then died down at the realization. He was unreadable, to Oliver’s discomfort. He forced a laugh, and got up, telling Ayu, “I’ll just go to my room and eat some–”

“No,” Ayu stopped him. “No, uh… You can eat here.”

Oliver raised a brow.

“It’s fine.”

“… I think you’ll think I’m weird if you see.”

With a smile back, and attempted rolled eyes, Ayu said, “You attacked me as a werewolf and I already know you’re a cannibal from multiple other stuff. What else could be weirder?”

In a moment of thinking, Oliver sighed. “Ayu, I don’t eat it cooked. I eat it raw.”

And with the statement, Ayu’s eyes widened, and blinked multiple times nonstop. “Oh.” He flustered his words for the next few seconds. “Why raw?”

He shrugged. “Well, for me it never mattered whether it was cooked or not. I wouldn’t need to prep anything either since when it’s raw, it kinda tastes juicier.”

Ayu gulped, staring into the abyss, then shook his head. “Yeah, that’s beyond the point. Just eat. I’ll be… not directly watching.”

Oliver continuously stared back to back from his bag to Ayu. “… I still need a plate.”

Ayu rushed his words. “Yeah, go get that.”

And after the awkward venture, they sat together in silence, bag and plate in Oliver’s hands, and Ayu squirming left and right to Oliver’s own notice. He gulped at the event, “You know, I can really just go to my room if you’re uncomfortable–”

“No,” Ayu said. “I think I have to get used to it by now… we’re practically living together and you have to be by yourself when you eat.” With hesitance, he patted Oliver’s hand holding the plate. 

The slightest tint of red floated on his cheek from the touch, no matter how many times they had clasped in the night. “It’s embarrassing.” 

“It both shouldn’t and should be, so there’s not much to get away from it,” Ayu affirmed. 

“That’s just everything in my life.” Oliver grinned at the comment. Yet, the topic still stood up top of him. Glancing back down to the bag, opening it once again for the stronger aroma. Grabbing the first section, he placed it down onto the plate, with some leftover blood dripping by the side and his wanting to lick it all down. He turned his head back to Ayu, who drew his own eyes away, then returned to the meal. His hands already drenched themselves, and he continued the routine. Out of the plate, Oliver picked up the meat, facing it directly in front of him, the taste already itching in the back of his throat, and he made his first bite against his sore jaw. 

The texture and taste melded into his mouth in the usual satisfaction, nothing much else to say. But, he continued taking bites, staring at the blank television screen in front of him, avoiding Ayu’s eyes at all cost. 

“… Are you feeling better?”

“Relatively,” Oliver chewed. 

The next reply sat there delayed. “That’s good at least.”

Another minute passed by while Oliver ate, with him seemingly forgetting of the one next to him or the anxieties with the subject. 

“So… Oliver.”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’ve been knowing you enough to tell you something… Something I’ve been hiding, really.”

He continued chewing. “Like what?” 

“How the entire black sun thing happened, and how I got here… and the monsters.”

“Oh.” Finally, the questions he had wondered of ages ago. It seemed to have past his mind for the last few months. “Figured you knew something.” 

“Yeah. I did,” he agreed. “I don’t really know where to start but uhm… so, you know how the entire society thing is led by Akeldama, right?”

“You were tricked by him, weren’t you?”

After a few blinks, Ayu whined, “Is it really that easy to figure out?”

“You’re easy to read,” Oliver explained, “That and that’s what happened to the rest of the society, but what exactly happened between you two?”

He sighed. “Okay… Basically, when I was eight, he gave me three wishes, with the deal that I couldn’t wish to undo wishes, wish for more wishes, or bring back the dead.”

In comprehension and analysis mode, Oliver nodded. “Sounds fair.”

Ayu looked down at his seat. “I already made two wishes. I made the first one when I met him: where I wouldn’t die by natural stuff and have powers to fight monsters instead.” He looked at Oliver. “It ended up with the monsters coming to me since I asked for a fight. And even then, my powers are too shitty to fight them back.”

The outcome seemed rough, Oliver could tell. The chewing stopped as he searched for a reasoning. “Well, at least you were just eight…?” An eight-year-old wouldn’t think about mass-murder unless it was me so. 

“Yeah, but I was still being dumb.” The legs curled up again. “I made the second wish a year after… I got lonely pretty quick while being in the alleyway. So, once I was sick of it, I just wished there were people like me so I wouldn’t be alone anymore.”

An instinct kicked in. Despite his bloody hands, Oliver placed his hand onto Ayu’s in return from earlier. 

“Annette came into my life, on June 6th as a birthday present I guess, and an anniversary for when I met Akeldama, but I didn’t really care. I was happy, really happy. I explained everything to her immediately, and I was excited to fight with her when the monsters finally came.” 

He replied to the hand, squeezing it back and staining his own. “They came a while after, and one of her dads was the first to go…” A head tilt down and he told, “It’s my fault she’s in this mess. And it still might just be my fault that you’re a part of this too.”

For a time, Oliver waited for any tears to be shed; however, he was silent, only shaking and squeezing harder the more time went on. A sigh escaped from the last comment. “Ayu, you know that I’m still impossible to exist because of you. Alice was just an idiot and I’m guessing she committed voodoo or some shit.”

He chuckled. 

“And it wasn’t your fault–”

“That’s what everyone says.”

“Because it’s true.” Oliver finally set his food aside, and clasped both of his hands to Ayu. “You were a kid who was just a naïve little mess. We all were. Look at me, I was done with this bullshit since I was nine.” Perhaps that was a lie, who knows. 

“But that’s the problem. –”

“No, it isn’t. We’re all dumbasses that fuck up. Everything in our lives have been through mistakes.”

Ayu gazed at him, lids lowered and position unmoving. He only replied with a silent, “I guess,” and nothing else. 

Ayu remained silent, to Oliver’s dismay. But in dedication of patience, Oliver let it go, returning to his snack. 

“… What was it like to talk to a dictator like that?”

Ayu shuffled his position into laying down on the couch, letting his cold and bloody hand out of Oliver’s. “Weird. He annoys me sometimes in my head and messes with stuff. But who could tell he’d be an asshat when he looks like an albino angel?”

“Albino?”

“Yeah, he has like, really pale skin and white hair.”

“Uh,” Oliver’s own breath heightened in confusion. “Can you describe him a little more?” 

Ayu shuffled. “Sure? He looks around our age all the time. The hair’s messy but neater than mines, and he has a crown thing that has a piece of coal on it for some reason.” 

“Oh god,” he stated. 

“What?”

“… Remember Faustus…?”

“Yeah?”

“Well,” he ticked, “guess who matches the same albino description, and constantly appears and disappears just to mess with people?”

It took a matter of time for Ayu to stare into the abyss and process. “… You’re trying to say that your ghost friend from when you were six turns out to be the bitch that fucked up the entire city?”

“Indeed,” Oliver nodded. 

“What the fuck?” A jump forced the couch to jumble all over, as Oliver shook his plate from the momentum. “Faustus is actually Akeldama?”

“Yeah, I feel dumb that I didn’t connect the dots…” Oliver sat dumbfounded with his recovering food that had almost fallen. “But yeah no, what the fuck.”

“You have been talking to an actually demon-child since you were six!”

“I know!” 

The hysteria dragged the plate to the counter. They both got up and jumped in the couch. “Akeldama’s a faucet!”

“I know!” 

Their peak discovery led them hopping around and yelling at each other. 

“Why would he do that,” Ayu begged to question.

“The hell if I know about that!” He gasped for air. “Wait! I think he talked to me while he was in the dungeon but… fuck, I forgot what he said!”

“That’s not helping!” 

“That’s obvious! But weirdly enough Faustus was actually nice when he wasn’t annoying?”

“Impossible,” Ayu huffed, “Akeldama is never nice.” 

“Well we have proof of a counter-claim!”

“Then what the fuck does Akeldama want if he isn’t just an ass?”

“Do you think any of us would have a clue?”

“NO!” 

They screamed together, and fell over at the revelation, both thumping on different side of the couch. A moment of silence let the hype die down. Only for them to realize the amount of screaming that had occurred in a minute. 

They laughed at it. 

“Goddamn, we’re a mess,” Oliver said. 

“I think that’s all what we’re supposed to be.” 

Ollie sat up. “See? That’s what I’m saying, we’re all fuck ups!” He laughed again. But after the entire fit, Oliver picked himself back up again, and picked up the food and bag by the counter with a relieved sigh. “I really shouldn’t eat the rest of this.”

“Then don’t.”

“That’s the plan,” he said, “I’m just gonna take one last bit and we’re good for–”

“Oh, the door’s unlocked cool.” And then entered a young voice. In the fastest second, Oliver whipped his head to the door in front of him, facing Annette straight to the eye with guts and blood all over his hand. 

They both stared, eyes widened at each other, but it was Oliver to say, “… fuck.”

***

“I knew you had some kind of problem but holy cow.”

After the obligated explanation, Oliver finally packed up his meals, to Annette’s staring.

Ayu told her, with pinching eyes, “To really be honest, I forgot you were coming after I punched Ollie–”

“You punched him?” Annette forwarded her seat. 

“It was an accident!” 

“And it was me scaring him and him jumping up at me,” Oliver corrected. Off in his room, he placed the bag down and brought of notice his stains across his hands and on his face from the mirror ahead of him. His face strewed in the situation. He asked, “Annette, you want me to wash up, don’t you?” 

The frantic nod and smile seemed as something Oliver could visualize. “I’d appreciate it, and Ayu too.” 

The question held in Oliver but not for longer after remembering the handheld support. “Shit,” he muttered. 

They both washed off the blood to Annette’s comfort, clowning and bumping each other in the meanwhile for the humor of it all. And while they entered back, Oliver found a distinct melody to Annette’s patient humming. 

“The Emerald Maiden,” he questioned the song. 

She peered back at them, scanning yet hiding it with a kind gesture. “Yeah, my parents were big 80s junkies.”

Ayu and Oliver sat down together, Ayu’s composition growing drowsy to the other’s notice. “They seem to have interesting taste,” Oliver added. “Birke was kinda surreal back then.”

She smiled in argument, “I think that was the point of the trend.” 

“Well, it wasn’t that good of a trend in the first place.”

“Oh, so you’re declaring war today, I see.” A sleeve was pulled from her dress with a fake fist. Her laugh forced its way while she joked. 

But Oliver shrugged. “Not much of an argument, just a sad counter.”

“What are you guys even talking about,” Ayu asked. 

He answered, “Just some obnoxious music.”

“Excuse me!” Annette objected, “They had some good slappers.”

“Yes, slaps to the ears,” Oliver muttered, to Annette’s dismay. 

“… You know what? I’m not gonna be a part of this.” Ayu rolled out of the couch, crawling back up and into Oliver’s room. “I’m gonna sleep.” 

Again? Oliver asked. “Alright, we’ll try and be quiet.”

“You don’t have to, Ollie,” he yawned. “It’ll just be a quick nap.” And with the comment, the door closed gently from the distance. 

The two, one discovering that their friend is a cannibal and the other being that friend, were then stuck together in the forgotten topic of prior. Oliver quaked at the situation, however Annette created the simplest icebreaker. 

“… He calls you Ollie?”

He shifted, “Yeah, but I think he just does it when he’s lazy.” 

“Do you think I can call you that?” As weird as it sounded, she questioned. 

“Uh… no, I don’t think that would sound right,” he answered, “coming from you.” 

She nipped, “That’s a shame. I thought I would get ‘I just found out you’re a murderer’ rights.”

“… No. No, you don’t.” He set aside the already annoying topic, and moved on. “Anyways, how’s high school for you? You seem pretty busy.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” A groan fell out of her mouth. “Imagine you being an all-A student in middle school and say, ‘Hey, I’ll be fine doing all advanced classes. I always do that!’ And then proceeding to have a nine-paragraph essay due in two days and three other different projects and reports that take up four hours of your time each and you thought you’d be smart about it but you end up–”

“Hold on, aren’t you a freshman?” 

Her head tilted back at him, a mad expression peering from her face. “Yes. A freshman who has made mistakes,” she said. “Don’t make my mistakes,” she said. 

“… Duly noted.” Curiosity poked itself at him, despite his own wondering of his future in school considering new lifestyles. “Is middle school easy then?”

She ticked at the question. “You don’t even have to turn in half the work and you hit a decent B if anything.” But then her body slouched into the coach. “Honestly now with both church and school hitting me under the bus, I don’t have time for anything. It blows.”

“Seems like it,” he imagined. 

A little sigh wavered the room in Annette’s rare leisure. Soon, she added in her time, “But, aside from that, you and Ayu seem to be getting along well, so I don’t think I have to worry about him as much anymore.”

“As much?”

“Well yeah.” Oliver noted her fidgets all over the place with her words. “Before you, he was a kid without any kind of home or anyone to talk to except me… and a few others that just hurt him.” 

The last comment churned Oliver’s guts somehow with only a little clue as to who she referred. 

“I couldn’t manage to take care of him well enough since I had to help my baba after Dad died. Not to mention myself for a bit,” she huffed a laugh. 

The conversation handed little leeway for Oliver in the conversation. “I guess that makes sense… My mom had to counsel a patient’s parents after the kid died from an attack, and she was stressed too since the girl was getting better.”

Pulling back her hair, she nodded. “Guess you didn’t have to deal with losing someone.” And a blink later, he met her with skeptical eyes on the topic. “Right… That wasn’t what I meant to say. It’s just– Ayu just seems better overall now.”

“… You knew about Akeldama, right?”

“I did,” she answered. 

“He talked about it with you a lot, didn’t he?”

Another nod. “It’s rare but he gets more into it the more you hang out with him. It’s weird with how much he insists on how Akeldama is the worst, but he’s one to put himself at fault. If you know what I mean.”

A previous conversation floated in his mind. “Yeah, I think I do.”

An arm rested by the chair as she said, “He’s a good kid. Screwed up along the way but he didn’t mean for everything to turn out this way.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying, though. It’s obvious.”

“Not to him,” she replies. “It’s definitely some kind of… emotional trauma.” Without much else to add, she shifted. “I remember when I met him, he was jumping around like a five-year-old kid. I thought it was creepy at first but it was easy to tell what the issue was… I stuck with him because I knew he needed somebody, and once he told me about the wishes, I knew I was right.”

Oliver listened to her monologue keenly. 

“I used my birthday money for his birthdays, and almost everything else for him. It doesn’t seem like much from how you met him but I tried to help him however I could think of.”

“So, what you’re saying is you were a good person to Ayu,” he summarized. 

“I guess you can say that, but I feel like I babied him too much.”

Oliver tilted his head. “And what do you mean by that?”

Her eyes glanced down. “I tried to act like nothing was really wrong for him. Like, everything was perfect the way it was for the most part.” Smiles peered through her face no matter the tone she made. “I was acting like some manic pixie girl, I guess. But, I think it ended up with Ayu thinking I didn’t care…”

No continuation began, nor did Oliver allow himself to reply. He let the words contemplate in Annette’s mind while the time passed. 

“… Well, I didn’t really get the job done, but you came at a good time.” 

Unsure of the compliment, he replied, “Thanks?”

A soft punch met Oliver’s shoulders to his surprise. Its gentleness seeming foreign. Annette giggled at his face, “Yeah, you’ve probably done a lot better than me.” A whistle blew up quickly, off pitch of whatever went on, but all right he supposed. “How’re his comics doing, actually? I haven’t listened to those in a while.”

“Oh,” he completely forgot about them. “Well, he’s still drawing, but he doesn’t really bring up his stories.”

“Really? He would tell me about it all the time!” 

Ah yes, show off what I forget to ask about. “Actually, I’ve been getting him into writing some more, since he seems to have a knack for it.”

“With his handwriting,” she laughed. 

Oliver shrugged at the question. “He wasn’t that good at drawing either, but his handwriting doesn’t look as bad as some kids in my class to be honest.” 

Her bubbly nature peaked at the seams throughout the new conversation. “It’s a good thing you’re getting him into something new though, he sometimes focused way too much on that comic.”

“Didn’t he not have anything else to do?”

With eyes rolled back, she agreed, “Yeah, you’re right, but that’s why I made game days!”

“Oh, don’t remind me of that Ono game.”

Their conversation continued of that of miscellaneous topics that flowed together with only some effort. However, after some time a mumble caught Oliver’s ears. He turned around to the source and led to his room. 

Standing up, he already figured the occurrence, but Annette, unbeknownst of why, followed. 

Entering into his room, there lied a lump on the bed, a homey one at that. Rummaging around the blanket endlessly and uttering scared words indecipherable to even such sensitive ears, Ayu slept his usual naps, and Oliver went over. 

Oliver whispered to Annette, “Did Ayu talk about this before?”

She nodded, “He mentioned them a couple of times, it’s where he gets half of his story ideas, aside from Lillie dreams–. You know about her, right?”

Shaking his head, he answered, “He’s barely mentioned it; I’ve been curious for a while. He says her name sometimes when he sleeps, and when he thinks he’s alone… I wanted to ask but I could tell he didn’t want to talk about it.”

She sighed, “You’ll have to wait for him, then. It’s not my place to tell.” 

After a moment, Oliver went ahead and poked around at Ayu carefully. “Ayu, wake up…”

The pattern continued with some shivering from the sleeper. Though, once he woke, he jolted with his arm into Oliver’s. 

He winced at the immediate pain, followed by Annette saying, “Yeah this is why you prepare yourself.” 

Ayu blinked at the both of them, and told Oliver, “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay, it wasn’t the bad arm.” 

He still shrank down, to Oliver’s own worries. But instead of anything else, Oliver followed with a smile to him as they were together. 

“Hey Ayu,” he said. “How’re you doing?”

-

Ten Dollars | Bread and Water | Red Eye | Crimson Capture | November 1st | A Mother | A Demon | A Child | The Wolf | Bloody Fingers | A Monochrome World | The Pocketwatch | I’ll Have My Day | Two Weeks | Monsters | Sleepover | Next>>>

[eleanor-writes-stuff]

keep calm and let HR handle it [V/VI]

Rey managed to go a full year without ever directly interacting with her new CEO, but now it seems like he’s dropping by her office every single week.

(Because what else is a love-struck fool to do when he falls for his head of HR other than find reasons to visit her department?)

OR: five times Ben gets summoned down to HR, and one time Rey gets called into the CEO’s office, based on this prompt from @optimisticsprinkles​​: “Rey as the director of HR at [office] and Kylo/Ben starts finding reasons to be sent down to HR”.

In our penultimate chapter, Rey concocts an emergency in order to lure Ben down to her office. But why in the world would she do something like that??

(Hint: 🎂) 

Chapter 4 Also available on AO3. And hey, maybe check out my Twitter and Ko-fi?

To: ben_solo@organafoundation.com From: rey_niima@organafoundation.com Subject: URGENT

Hi Ben,

I’m so sorry about this, but could you come by in twenty minutes? I know it’s almost lunchtime, but something urgent’s come up regarding next week’s staff lunch preparations.

Warm regards, Rey Niima, Head of Human Resources, The Organa Foundation.

 To: rey_niima@organafoundation.com From: ben_solo@organafoundation.com Subject: Re: URGENT

I’ll be there. Is everything okay? And do you want me to grab us something to eat?

Best regards, Ben Solo, Chief Executive Officer, The Organa Foundation.

 To: ben_solo@organafoundation.com From: rey_niima@organafoundation.com Subject: Re: URGENT

It’s not a huge emergency or anything, just time-sensitive. Sorry for sounding so panicky! And this shouldn’t take long, so don’t worry about getting food.

Warm regards, Rey Niima, Head of Human Resources, The Organa Foundation.

 Rey would feel bad about springing an ‘emergency meeting’ on Ben and potentially disrupting whatever plans he has, but she’d already asked Mitaka about his schedule this morning to make sure she wouldn’t mess up his day.

Predictably, Ben Solo has nothing planned for his birthday.

Scratch that, he has one plan: hole up in his office from the minute he gets in to the minute he clocks out, to prevent any unwelcome surprise celebrations. It’s what he did last year, according to everyone else on the 37th floor, even when they told him they had cake in the breakroom. In fact, Poe says it’s what he did for most of his birthdays growing up.

But not this year, not if Rey has anything to say about it. It’s not like she can’t empathize – she’d spent the longest time hating her assigned birthdate as a child, after all – but ever since Han’s anniversary two weeks ago, something’s changed between them. She can’t quite put her finger on it, can’t quite put it into words, but it’s something that tells her she absolutely cannot let Ben spend his birthday all alone and locked away in a darkened office.

He’ll spend it in her office instead, with a small cake that’s really more for her benefit than his and a card she discreetly passed around the office last week and had everyone sign. She would’ve gotten him a gift, but Rey hadn’t even known his birthday was coming up until she reviewed the monthly employee birthday calendar just last Tuesday and realized Ben’s thirtieth birthday was only a week away.

A week, as it turns out, is not nearly enough time to figure out the perfect gift for your boss-slash-friend-slash-person you get way too comfortable around after two drinks. The cake and the card (and the gift of her company, she supposes) will simply have to be enough, especially since Ben’s supposed to be here any minute now.

He’s almost always on time, if not early, so Rey has no qualms lighting the single candle on his cake and carefully picking it up. She secures the cake in her grip before slowly spinning around so that the back of her chair faces the door, and waits for Ben to arrive. Rose and Kaydel have strict orders not to wish him happy birthday or do anything that might give the surprise away, and her earlier ruse apparently worked a little too well because Ben barges into her office after a series of uncharacteristically frantic knocks.

“I know you said not to panic, but is everything– Oh.”

Rey wheels around with a smile. “Surprise!”

Ben closes the door behind him and leans against it, taking in the scene before him with an almost wary look. “Rey… this is really sweet of you, but–”

“You’re not big on birthdays, I know,” she assures him, setting the cake down on her table so she can wave him forward. “Which is why we’re going to hide in my office for lunch so that the others can’t drag you kicking and screaming to your own surprise birthday party in the breakroom.”

At this, the tension drains out of his shoulders and he happily closes the distance between them as a relieved smile lights up his face. “You know me too well.”

“Make a wish, birthday boy,” Rey says with a grin, pushing the cake towards him. Ben acquiesces, but chooses to maintain eye contact with her throughout the slow and deliberate process of leaning down and blowing out his candle.

It’s… quite a moment.

Rey claps to snap them out of it, and retrieves the oversized card from under her desk to hand it over to him. Finn had told her that last year, none of them had known what to write on the card – on account of the fact that none of them had known the man himself, not really – and so they’d all just signed their names around the standard “happy birthday” message that had come printed on the card. This year, though–

This year she watches Ben open the card, and knows exactly why he grows more and more overwhelmed with emotion as his eyes dart from one message to another, all of them sincere and personalized now that everyone’s gotten to know him better through their weekly happy hours.

She notes a little furrow digging into his brow though, and is ready with a smile when Ben looks up at her. “On the back.”

He closes the card, and sure enough there’s her message to him scrawled across the back, the last one to be written:

Ben,

I know this isn’t what you had in mind for today, but you deserve good days. You deserve good things. And I hope this is the first of many good birthdays we get to celebrate together.

Love, Rey.

There’s so much more she’d wanted to write, so much she’s left unsaid, but when Ben looks up at her with a painfully earnest smile and reaches across the table for her hand, she knows she’s said enough… for now.

“Thank you, Rey,” he says quietly, his smile as warm as sunshine as he squeezes her hand. “Really, this is… this is already the best birthday I’ve had in years, if not ever.”

An incredulous laugh bubbles past her lips. “Ben, it’s just cake and a card, I didn’t even get you–”

“It’s not just cake and a card,” Ben corrects her. “It’s… it’s getting to spend the day with someone who actually cares. I haven’t had that chance in a long time.”

After everything else he’s shared with her, this… this really isn’t much. But she still cherishes every single secret he trusts her with, every ounce of vulnerability he’s comfortable showing her. “I… I know what that feels like,” Rey tells him in return. “Believe it or not, I haven’t always been the biggest fan of birthdays myself,” she adds with a little huff of laughter.

Ben’s hand is still on hers, and he moves to lace their fingers together. “Because of…?”

She nods. “They didn’t even bother leaving a birth certificate, or a note, or anything. Just a baby, a blanket, and a basket on the front door of a police station, like something out of a movie.” Rey fights off a grimace at the memory. “Did you know my name might not even be Rey? It was stitched into the blanket, but people who can’t even be bothered to write a note wouldn’t have bothered getting personalized blankets, would they? More likely that they got it from a thrift store, or maybe even stole it.”

The soothing motion of Ben’s thumb running up and down the side of her hand keeps her from getting tangled up in that old mess. “Anyway, the hospital figured I was the size of an average one-month-old, but I was also malnourished enough that I could’ve just been abnormally small for my age. They had no idea what to do, so they just listed my birthdate as exactly a month before the day I was abandoned. You can probably see why that never really felt like cause for celebration to me,” Rey says with a shrug and a little smile, the instinct to fake nonchalance at her past so much a part of her now that she does it even with Ben.

He keeps her hand in his, warm and solid and reassuring. “So when did you start celebrating?” Ben asks, gently guiding her away from the darkness.

This time, her smile is sincere. “The first year of college. Finn asked me when my birthday was one day, just out of the blue, like friends do, and I just… I was so hostile about it. But eventually he pried it out of me, in bits and pieces, and that year he threw this huge party for me, to show me how many people I had in my life now, how many people cared about me. And I’ve been in love with birthdays ever since.”

Ben smiles at that, and lets go of her hand when she pulls away to get two plates and a knife, which she makes a show of presenting to him. He laughs as he takes it, and serves them two huge slices of cake.

“I love how you automatically know to make mine super-sized,” she quips as they dig in.

“Maybe we both know each other too well.” He smiles at the thought, and Rey spends a little too long with a forkful of cake hovering in the air, caught up in his bright eyes. They eat in silence for a moment, until–

“I used to love birthdays,” Ben tells her, between bites. He doesn’t quite look up, so she pretends to focus on her cake as well. “I think I was six, the first time my mom didn’t come home for my birthday. And then the next year, neither of them were there. And yeah, they made sure to call and they left cake and presents and a signed card, but… that just made it worse, somehow. Because none of it meant anything if they weren’t there with me – and they almost never were, after that.”

Rey slides her hand back into his, and Ben looks up at her with a smile.

“But you’re here now.”

“I’m here now,” she echoes, and hopes he catches on to the unspoken promise that she always will be, year after year, if that’s what he wants.

He nods to himself, as if he’d gotten the message somehow, and they go back to finishing their cake. Ben laughs when she excuses herself for a minute only to return with a bag of take-out from a nearby Italian place they’ve gone to for lunch a couple times and tells her that they’re doing this all out of order, but they dig in nonetheless and the hour seems to fly by as they talk about their friends and their lives and their plans for the upcoming staff lunch, their first major employee engagement effort.

Five minutes past one, Ben reluctantly gets to his feet and accepts his card from Rey with a sigh. “What’s the point of being the boss if you can’t spend your birthday eating cake and hiding out in HR all day?”

“You could,” Rey points out with a laugh, “but can you really stomach more cake? Because even I’m done for now, I think.”

“Good point,” Ben says with a grimace as he pats his stomach. “Fine, I’ll get back to work then.”

It’s habit by now, for her to cross her desk and step into his arms for a hug before he leaves. “Happy birthday, Ben,” she whispers into his shoulder as they hug.

Warm lips brush against her temple. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Ben tenses before she’s even really registered what he’s just called her, and before she knows it he’s out of her arms and her office, throwing a hurried “Thanks again, see you around!” over his shoulder before the door closes behind him.

Rey blinks as her door slams shut, and a laugh escapes her as her mind finally catches up to the situation and Ben’s reaction to his little slip-up. She’s still smiling as she turns back to her desk and picks up the remaining half of the cake to offer to Rose and Kaydel, both of whom appear to be equally stunned and intrigued by their boss’ abrupt departure.

It’s really too bad that he’d freaked out over it, because Rey finds she quite likes the sound of Ben calling her sweetheart.

. . .

This was supposed to be at least ten times fluffier than it is, with a healthy dose of pining... but nothing is going according to plan with this fic. I'm really glad you guys seem to be liking it anyway.

Our next (and last) chapter will feature a bit of a change, both in setting and POV. Time to go visit the 37th floor! I'm hoping to have that up later today, so I'll see you guys then.

Until then, as always: thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked it, and please don't hesitate to like/reblog/comment!

[d-noona]

MAKE OVER

Chapter 8: Saturday Night

Jung Hoseok x Reader

Reader as Kang Hyeonji

SUMMARY: When Kang Hyeonji transformed herself into a striking redhead, the entire male population of Seoul stood up and took notice. But her make over was for Jung Hoseok’s benefit alone. He began to show interest in the new look but not in the way she wanted. Suddenly he was over-protective, perhaps a little jealous. It seemed that the idea of having a relationship with her couldn’t be further from his mind. The girl however wants more. So it was time for an ultimatum. If Hoseok didn’t want Hyeonji to lose her virginity to another admirer, he had no option but to make love to her himself.

Hyeonji could not concentrate on her work. How could she, with Choon Hee besieging her with suggestions from the moment she arrived at work on Monday morning and spied the newly made-over Hyeonji.

Choon Hee's main advice was directed at Hyeonji's choice of clothing for the big night. The trouble was, she changed her mind every day. On Monday she insisted Hyeonji buy black. Lace, preferably. Black lace was so-o-o sexy!

Hyeonji didn't think she could carry off black lace and told Choon Hee as much. So on Tuesday Han Byeol came to the office and butted heads with Choon Hee, they now moved into getting Hyeonji a red satin...before they realised red would clash horribly with Hyeonji's new hair color.

From Wednesday to Friday the girls went through every possible color in the rainbow, plus every possible style from strapless and sexy to tight and slinky, then finally to white and virginal.

This last, desperate idea was an attempt at reverse psychology, since Tinashe would never dress in such fashion. Hyeonji was glad to leave work on Friday afternoon, having informed her avid friends thay she would simply buy something that suited and flattered her. Choon Hee had pulled a face before pressing the solemn promise from Hyeonji that she would finally wear the perfume she and Han Byeol got for her on her birthday.

"And buy yourself some drop earrings," had been Han Byeol's last hurrah. "I was watching this body language expert on television the other day and he said dangling earrings projected highly sexual messages on some subtly primitive basis. Apparently there's this tribe in Africa where women stretch their earlobes with heavy rings and weights. The ones with the longest earlobes are considered the sexiest, so the longer the earrings the better."

Choon Hee laughed out loud yet nodded to have Hyeonji wear some drop earrings for more appeal. Hyeonji had sighed and agreed to wear long, dangling earrings as well as the perfume.

Saturday dawned slightly overcast but the sun came out during Hyeonji's short train trip up to the shopping center. The forecast that morning had predicted twenty-eight degrees, average for their small little town in March. Fortunately, the humidity was low so Hyeonji would mot have to worry about perspiration ruining whatever dress she bought.

She arrived just as the shops opened, her mother's gift of five hundred and forty-five dollars tucked safely in her purse. Four hours later her mission was finally accomplished, and her purse was pretty empty. Hyeonji could hardly contain her excitement on the train ride home, hugging the parcels on her lap.

She would never have thought she could look so good, or sexy. Of course, it was to be seen what Hoseok would think of her, but she could never reproach herself for not pulling out all the stops. She hurried home from the station, puffing a little as she struggled up hill with her bags. It was one thirty and Hoseok's car was nowhere in sight. His mother was, though, Mrs Jung waving from where she was attending to her pot-plants on the front porch.

"Been shopping for tonight dear?" She called out, her smile bright just like her son. Hyeonji was grateful to stop for a minute. "Yes, Mrs Jung. I've been very extravagant," she confessed rather breathlessly. "New dress. New shoes. New everything, actually."

"Oh you must come in and show me. I'd love to see them," says Mrs Jung. Hyeonji hesitated, then glanced back down the hill. She didn't want to be caught by Hoseok coming home. She didn't want him to see her today until she was ready.

"Don't worry," Mrs Jung said "Hobi's not due. He has to work all day today. He just rang to say he'd get ready down and arrive straight to your place. Come in. You can have a cool drink while you're at it. You look hot."

Hyeonji was hot, but it wan't from the shopping. Suddenly, tonight was all too real. It was also her last chance. If nothing came tonight with Hoseok then she would give up all hope. Total failure was less than a few hours away.

"What lovely dress!" Mrs Jung exclaimed when Hyeonji drew the silk bit of nothing out of the bag. Mrs Jung held up the clothing "Oh yes, that's just the thing." She chuckled delightedly.

"You're certainly going to make that boy of mine sit up and take notice in that dress, aren't you my dear?" Hyeonji's eyes rounded at Hoseok's mother, who gave her a softly knowing smile in return. "You think I haven't guessed all these years that you're in love with my son?"

"I...I..."

"You don't have to say a thing. Just listen. Hoseok does not love Tinashe. She is, however, a beautiful and clever girl who panders to his not inconsiderable ego and knows exactly how to handle him." Hyeonji was all ears as Hoseok's mother went on. She'd been riveted from the moment Mrs Jung had said Hoseok didn't love Tinashe.

"I know my son very well, Hyeonji. I know his strengths and weaknesses. Basically, he is a good, kind, loving boy, but he has an obsessive workaholic personality with a one-track mind. I'm sure you've seen evidence of this yourself. I used to have to set an alarm clock next to his computer to get him to school reasonably on time. When he becomes absorbed in a project nothing can distract him, not even his male needs, which I might add are as strong as any other normal red-blooded man's."

This wasn't any news to Hyeonji. She'd seen the trail of girlfriends, all of them not exactly the types you just talked to on a date.

"You think Hoseok has only ever been attracted to the most beautiful girls," his mother went on. "That he's like a moth drawn only to the brightest of flames."

"Well, his girlfriends have all been stunners, Mrs Jung." Hyeonji pointed out.

"True. So I suppose if I said it was their personalities which won him you would be sceptical?" Mrs Jung chuckled.

Hyeonji laughed.

"I understand your cynicism. Nevertheless, what I am saying is true. The only girls who've attracted Hobi have been the ones who had enough confidence in themselves to break through his absent-minded nature and force him to notice them. I have no doubt most of them approached him first, made none too subtle passes and flirted with him outrageously in order to win him away from his other, all-consuming passion."

"Naturally, the only girls who have such a degree of confidence are usually very beautiful ones which gives them that added edge. Once they have Hoseok's attention, they have the equipment to ensnare his sexual desire as well. Even so, he usually tires of them rather quickly. Either that or they themselves become frustrated with his tendency to forget dates, and they leave the relationship of their own accord."

Hyeonji intensely listening and nodding to every word Mrs Jung had to tell her, felt like having a fairy god mother by her side.

"Tinashe, however, has hung in there. I think she must be very good in bed. I also think she knows Hoseok's net worth and wants to hitch her wagon to a star. I suspect this so-called trial separation is suppose to frustrate Hoseok enough for him to agree to marry her. I don't know if it will work. I sincerely hope not, because she does not love my son and it will make him miserable in the end. He doesn't believe in divorce, you see. Hoseok needs someone who truly loves and understands him. In short , Hyeonji, he needs you."

Hyeonji was speechless.

"You have the perfect opportunity to put a spanner in Tinashe's work tonight, my dear," Mrs Jung continued in a conspiratorial voice. "But you must be bold. And daring. Make him notice you, in more ways than one. Flirt with him. Let him know you want him. You do want him don't you?"

All Hyeonji could do was nod.

"Then go after him, with as much cunning and ruthless as Tinashe did. In short SEDUCE him."

Seduce him?

Hyeonji went home with those daunting words ringing in her ears. How did an inexperienced virgin seduce a man like Jung Hoseok? According to his own mother, he'd had coubtless sexy, beautiful women do just that and do it superbly! What chance did she, Kang Hyeonji, have?

Made-over she might be, but that was only a skin-deep transformation. Inside, she was still a quiet, reserved kind of girl. Basically, she was not bold. Or daring.

Okay, so she'd spoken up for herself a few times recently, but only in private and with people she knew well. The thought of openly flirting with Hobi in a very public place at a well-attended formal dinner sent frenetic butterflies fluttering around in her stomach.

At six-thirty she still found those butterflies still in full flight. Yet her reflection in the dressing-table mirror went some way boosting that confidence Hoseok's mother had insisted she find. Outrageously long, the green crystal drops hung nearly to her shoulders, swaying seductively whenever she moved. They've been worth every cent of the fifty dollars they'd cost.

"Oh Hyeonji, you look gorgeous."

Hyeonji swung around at her mother's voice, the A-line skirt of her dark green silk dress flaring out before settling into more discreet folds against her thighs. Not that a skirt that short could ever be discreet. It ended a good five inches above her knees. When combined with the four-inch heels of her strappy, bronze-colored Jimmy Choo's shoes she looked all leg.

"Do you think so, Mom?" Hyeonji was desperate of reassurance, her own eyes not to be trusted. Zil's admiring gaze traveled from her daughter's shimmering hair, down to her perfectly made-up face, past the flamboyant earrings and finally to the little sexy dress which showed off Hyeonji's recently reshaped curves to perfection.

The low, scooped neckline hinted at a very adequate and perfectly natural cleavage, the tight bodice nipped-in waistline showing that Hyeonji could rival Scarlett Johanssen in the hourglass figure department, and with out the help of a corset.

"Turn around," her mother said. "Let me see the back again."

Hyeonji did so a little tentatively. She knew the lace-up back was daring, exposing a deep section of creamy flesh right down her back to her waist. This was part of the style of course, but it precluded the wearing of bra, even a strapless one. The only underwear Hyeonji had on, in fact, was an expensive set of lace silk panties.

Hyeonji turned back to find her mother frowning slightly. "What's wrong?" She asked, panicking. "Do you think the neckline is too bare? Should I wear a necklace instead of these earrings?"

Zil smiled reassuringly. "Not at all. Those earrings are perfect. No. I was just hoping everything turns out right for you tonight."

Hyeonji scooped in a steadying breath. "I do too..."

Zil came forward to take her daughter's hands in hers. "Whatever happens, you look absolutely beautiful."

"Thank you Mom." Hyeonji smiled at her mother fondly.

"You smell lovely too. What's that perfume you're wearing?" Zil tilts her head in curiosity. "It's the one Choon Hee and Han Byeol have me for my birthday. It's called....SEDUCTRESS."

Zil's eyebrows shot up. Mother and daughter looked at each other, then laughed. "Let's hope it has a secret ingredient," Hyeonji said, shaking her head ruefully, "because I think I'm going to need it."

"You'll do fine my love. Just be your sweet lovely self and Hoseok will be enchanted." Now Hyeonji felt confused. She had Hoseok's mother telling her to be a vamp, her own advising the natural approach she had an awful feeling neither would work. The only time she'd had a real response from Hobi was when he'd been jealous of Mr X.

Maybe that was the way to go. Mr X had been very useful so far...Hyeonji had been speculating on how shw could use Mr X to further advantage tonight when the doorbell rang. Her stomach immediately crampedm oh, dear heaven.

"That will be Hoseok," her mother whispered. "I won't come to the door. Say I'm in the bath or something. If he has those papers for me, just put them on the hall table. Oh and don't worry about how late ypu get home. I won't. In fact i won't worry too much if you don't come home at all."

Hyeonji's hazel brown eyes rounded at this amazingly broad-minded mother she'd suddenly acquired. "Mum," she said. "I'm shocked but I love you for being so understabding. Still, I think you'll find I'll be home soon after midnight like a good little Cinderella."

"I don't know about that," Zil said wryly with another glance at her striking-looking daughter. "Now off you go," she added when the doorbell rang the second time.

Hyeonji picked up the bronze clutch purse which matched her shoes and made her way carefully downstairs, taking her time lest she trip over in her new high heels. Be confident, she kept telling herself as she approached the front door. And bold. And daring.

Schooling her face into a cool smile, she swung open the door, prepare to accept Hoseok's surprised admiration as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Unfortunately, she hadn't prepared herself for being confronted with Hoseok standing there looking blistering handsome in a superbly tailored black dinner suit.

Most men looked good when dressed in a tux.

Hoseok however was breath taking.

She stood there in speechless admiration of his beauty and missed his initial reaction to her own appearance by the time she recovered sufficiently to look into his eyes he was shaking his head at her with a mildly rueful reproach.

"I can see this is going to be a long and difficult night."

Hyeonji was taken aback. Did he like the way she looked or not? "What do you mean?"

"You know very well what I meant you minx, my God, are you wearing any underwear at all under that excuse of a dress?" Hoseok says.

Hyeonji blushed and bristled at the same time "I'm only following your suggestions. You told me you don't like women who wear pants."

His shocked brown eyes zoomed to where the hem of her skirt ended at mid-thigh. Hyeonji rolled her own eyes. "That's not what I meant. I do have pantyhose on with built in panties," she said dryly. "I was talking about my wearing a dress and not pants suit."

"Oh, that's a dress you're almost wearing, is it? I thought it was a left-over from a lingerie party." Hoseok added furiously.

"Very funny. Truly, Hobi, you're acting like some over-protective big brother, though I don't know why. You never have before." Hyeonji getting all frustrated as Hoseok answers back. "Well you've never looked like THIS before."

"Is that a compliment or an insult?" She replied. "It could be a damned problem." Says Hoseok.

"I don't see how," she said airily. But she wasn't as thick as she was making out, and the reality of Hoseok's brooding reactions thrilled her to bits. He was perturbed by how she looked. And really jealous of any other man she might attract tonight.

His own mother's words popped into her mind. "Go after him, with as much cunning and ruthless as Tinashe did..."

"So," Hyeonji went on, twirling around and mercilessly pretending she had no idea of the effect the back of the dress would have on him. "Will I knock 'em dead at dinner?"

"I don't know about the others," he growled, grabbing her wrist to stop her from twirling around again "but I'm in my grave already."

She feigned a flustered frown. "But I'm not talking about you, Hobi. I was thinking of all those successful and possibly available businessmen at this dinner night."

Hoseok glared at her. "So that's why you changed your mind about partnering me tonight? Because you want to parade yourself for other men's eyes, like you're in some kind of meat market?"

"Well...I wouldn't put it quite crudely. And I'm really only interested in ONE man's eyes." Hyeonji only meant she wasn't the sort of girl who played the field, but immediately Hoseok took it the wrong way.

"One man?" He frowned, then scowled. "Oh my God. Don't tell me your infernal Mr X is going to be in this bloody dinner tonight!" He bit out.

Hyeonji tried not to color guiltily, but failed. For the first, the use of Mr X had backfired on her. "Damn it Hyeonji!" Hoseok exploded. "You should have told me."

"Why? Would you have refused to take me if I'd said he was going to be there?" She asked, even while her mind raced Mr X simply had to be disposed of once and for all, she decided he'd been very useful up till now, but suddenly he was beginning to get in the way.

Hoseok opened his mouth to say something, then snapped it shut again. "It's and irrelevant question anyway," Hyeonji went on swiftly. "Because Mr X is NOT going to be there. Mr X has been wiped from the planet from this moment onward. I've decided to take your advice Hobi, and move on. This is me moving on. Now, do you think WE might move on and get going? Or do you want to be late and make a grand entrance?"

"With moving-on-Hyeonji by my side?" He mocked. "Heck, no. I'd prefer to slink in the back door."

"There's no pleasing you tonight, is there?" She snapped as she stepped outside and banged the door shut behind her. "I only did everything you told me to do. I happen to think I look very nice."

Hoseok gripped her nearest elbow and began urging her along the path. It set her crystal earrings swinging, along with her unfettered breasts. She kept her eyes straight ahead but had a feeling Hobi was staring daggers at her highly mobile bust. She hadn't realized till that moment what substantial movement did to bra less breasts. Ones of her size, that was.

"Nice is a very ineffectual word to describe how you look tonight" Hoseok muttered. Hyeonji extracted her arm from his grip once they reached the passenger door of his car. "So how would you describe how I look?" She challenged.

His brown eyes blazed as he yanked open the door and waved her inside. Not a word passed his lips while she lowered herself into the seat, but his eyes spoke volumes when they dropped to take note of the way her skirt rode up dangerously high when she sat down.

"Provocative" he snarled at last, then banged the door shut.

"Good" she snapped back, once he'd settle himself behind the wheel. "That's exactly the look i was looking for tonight."

Hyeonji dropped her purse into her lap, noting with some dismay that the smallish bag covered almost half of the minuscule skirt. Had she gone too far with the dress? She wanted to attract Hoseok, not revolt him. She'd had no idea he could be such a prude. He certainly wasn't around Tinashe. Good God, some of the gear that girl wore was downright disgusting.

Still...at least she did have his attention that was something. Pulling the seat belt out, she was in the process of buckling herself into place when Hoseok's hand shot out and gripped her chin she gasped when he wrenched her face around this way, then gasped again when his mouth was suddenly covering hers.

His lips pressed down hard, insistent in their demand for surrender she yielded more from shock than any immediate passion. Her lips fell apart again his tongue plunged deep into her mouth. Her whimpering moan seemed to snap him back to the reality pf his quite savage kiss, for his head whipped back abruptly, his eyes widening. She just stared at him, the back of her left hand coming up to cover her still stunned mouth.

He groaned and shook his head, clearly appalled at himself. "I'm sorry Hyeonji. I don't know what got into me." Hyeonji didn't believe him. He knew darned well why he'd done what he'd done. By adopting ignorance of his very male actions he was throwing the ball in her court. How she acted now would set the tone for the whole evening.

Her hand trembling slightly, she removed it from her mouth and reached out towards him, letting it come to a shaky rest against his cheek. She twisted and leaned towards him till her mouth was only inches away from his. "I'm not," she whispered, and made the momentous decision to close those inches.

His shock was even greater than hers had been. For a few excruciating moments his mouth froze under kiss. Hyeonji hesitated herself. Good God, if he wrenched his mouth away, what would she do? Impossible to laugh it off. She would utterly be crushed.

Don't be tentative, came the voice of desperation. Be bold! Be daring!

She lifted her mouth from his and smiled. "What's the matter, Hobi? Haven't you been kissed back by a girl before?"

He didn't say a word, just kept staring at her as if she were a stranger. Sighing, she dropped her hand away from his face and settled herself back in the passenger seat. If nothing else, she'd taken the initiative and salvaged her pride.

"It's not that," he growled as he fired the engine. "Let's be honest, Hyeonji. It's not me you really want to be kissing anyway is it? Look I won't say you're not a temptation, looking as you look tonight. But might I also remind you that I'm supposed to be getting back with my girlfriend tomorrow? I don't like complications in my life, and if I don't watch you might become a complication. So let's just keep our old status quo going, if you don't mind. We're good friends. Nothing more. I'm sorry I kissed you just now. I promise you it won't happen again."

Hyeonji bit her bottom lip and turned her face away to stare through the passenger window. Her immediate response to Hoseok's words was to sink back into herself and oblivion. Underneath, she'd expected failure, hadn't she? Game, set and match to Tinashe.

But is seemed her new appearance had imbued her with more confidence in herself that she would ever have believed. Or maybe it was everyone else's confidence in her. Whatever, her mind gradually turned more positive, clinging to the fact that Hoseok hadn't mentioned Tinashe as his first excuse for backing away. His initial withdrawal had been because he thought she didn't really want to be kissing him. He mistakenly thought he was just a substitute for Mr X.

Hyeonji's frustration was acute. She heartily wished she'd never invented Hoseok's mysterious alter ego. She toyed with telling Hoseok the truth during the tensely silent drive down to the event. That he was Mr X, that she was crazy about him and would do anything for him.

But by the time Hoseok turned into the club car park ten short minutes later she'd abandoned that idea. It smacked too much desperation and would send any man running the opposite direction. No, her mission tonight was to seduce Hoseok, not openly declare her undying devotion.

Tomorrow several hours away and she aimed to make the most of them. Now, what worked best for her this past week or so?

Jealousy...

Not over Mr X this time, she decided. Over some other man. Hyeonji hoped and prayed there would be a suitable candidate at this dinner tonight, and that he would find her as provocative as Hoseok had...

Chapter 09

Masterlist