Boss, Bxtch, Baby! - By Ichibu Saki (8/10)
Would you let someone lock you up for half a million dollars? You're not getting it for free. You have to follow extremely strict rules, and you have to stay inside a mansion allll day. For months on end. Hey! Put that pen down! Don't sign without reading the fine print! Being a pet isn't an easy job!
Hojin is a man who has given up. Family bonds are too complicated. He can't keep a man no matter how hard he tries. He's deep in debt because his brother betrayed him. He's a sweet and giving person.....because he's afraid of being alone.
The loan sharks find him. He thinks he'll die with nothing in life, but then a group of men in suits appears out of nowhere.
The group claims a VIP wants him, and said VIP is willing to pay off his debts.
Being rich and gay in Korea sucks. Especially when your family is mostly comprised of sociopaths. Yooseong had a very good time with Hojin, but he can't date right now. Inheriting the family business is his main priority, and the head of the family is scared of gay people.
He needs a pet lover. Someone literally willing to hide in a bunker and wait for him.
Yooseong totally doesn't have issues and he definitely doesn't get violent and possessive when he likes someone! Don't misunderstand! He just has to lock up Hojin to keep his family off his tail.
Hojin says no.
Yooseong snaps his fingers.
The suits hold Hojin down until he signs the paperwork.
One year. Debt clear. Total obedience.
Yooseong is way too controlling he is literally insane, but we gradually see why the heck he is the way he is.
Yooseong and Hojin are both deeply insecure in different ways.
Hojin falls in love first.
Yooseong was obsessed from the beginning, but Hojin is the first one to admit that living together with a stud kinda rocks.
Shocker Hojin has toxic attachment issues....but they're a different breed.
His father abused his mother, but he won her back with money. Then his mother regretted returning to her abusive husband. She left once more, and Hojin left with her.
Hojin learned that only kind people deserve love, and some mistakes can't be forgiven.
He's had many lovers, but they all leave him eventually.
He's a clingy people-pleaser who falls in love out of desperation...not love.
Yooseong doesn't trust him, but Hojin is so messed up that he doesn't understand how shallow his doting love is.
Yooseong enjoys it. They fall into twisted pleasure together.
Yooseong's annoying little brother is annoying because he's straight.
He was going to inherit the company, even though he's a moron, just because he's straight. Yooseong was passed over entirely because he was gay.
Lil bro does mess up on purpose so Yooseong can have the position he deserves but he's still a messy loser annoying short guy.
Yooseong's massive ego makes his family relationships....cold af.
Yooseong is insane so he beats up Hojins brother. The same brother that saddled him with debt.
Hojin never finds out because Yooseong learns that Hojin hates violent declarations of love, and he loves his horrible brother too much to ever see him again.
He wants to keep the good memories, but he can't interact with the man who sold him away.
Yooseong becomes even more unreasonable though, and he starts to become really unlikable as a person. He's a GREAT controlling yandere but Hojin is a nice guy with no family and not much to live for. It's hard not to feel bad for him when Yooseong treats him like an object.
This one is a mixed bag, but it's very tense and it can be funny.
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"I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream."
Siege and Storm- Chapter 15
Oh nein! Mal has issues! With consequences of his actions he should be grateful for, and his girl not sharing every waking thought with him, when her worst worries spring from his most hated topics- the Darkling and her role in politics.
And Alina once again feels responsible for his feelings.
Yeah, this would have a bit more weight, if Alina didn't do it only for appearances' sake. Or if she granted the position due to merit, not random pick of what she views as the lowest low. Or if she didn't continue speaking as if she were a narrator of wildlife documentary, describing a new species of animal that just appeared.
Not necessarily, but it's one of Alina's less far-fetched deductions.
Aleksander could've been aware of David's fascination with Morozova's work. He could've picked the most skilled in bonework or the one most experienced in forging amplifiers- they're supposed to be rare, so not many Fabricators will have that.
*mumbles* And somehow we're to believe this pragmatic man chose to follow Alina, because... ? She's the good one, or whatever?!
*chants* Double agent Kaminsky, double agent Kaminsky!
Alina: Why would you want to kill this man! How horrible! At least question him first!
She would make a delightful morally flexible character, if she were acknowledged as such, and embracing that quality.
Says who? Zoya?
He KeEpS mE So BuSy!
Saints, Alina, you can't believe everything people say about themselves!
Alina: I'm not sure my three months of training are enough, but I can do like two things with my powers, so let's focus on increasing them further AND on the mythical forbidden art that created my goal no. 1 in the first place. I bet nothing can go wrong...
Only signing? Not reading to get into picture? And who prepares them?!
Bureaucracy, baby!
Welcome to responsibility!
I would sympathize with Alina much more, if she showed genuine interest in those she doesn't know. If her motivation weren't merely "Do the opposite of (what I think) the Darkling did". I she truly believed in her own philosophy.
Shocking!
People forced to sit next to half-strangers they're not used to interact with, create unpleasant atmosphere!
My work experience considered- you're lucky there's no visible enmity- you could've made the wrong people sit next to each other and tableware could've ended up in wrong bodyparts.
Also: How is Nadia sitting next to Marie? I thought breaking up already existing friend groups was a point of this whole exercise.
They're not gifts, Nikolai. They're just your father's property, but let's remember the Darkling didn't wait for the Queen to request a specific one's service, and turned it into a gesture of his own thoughtfulness. Fuck his strategems!
Alina's misplaced sensibilities are incredibly frustrating.
She wants to lead Second Army, but not order them, not assign them tasks directly, because that would somehow make her a bad person, instead of efficient leader.
What if no one will volunteer? What if weak, incompetent Squallers will? You don't look at special assignment and think- Yeah, whoever wants to do it... You PICK the most capable person with both sufficient skills AND suitable personality.
Awwww!
Poor granny deserves an Oscar!
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@alfiikae I have written it 😳 it is not the best because I got tired halfway through but decided I couldn’t not finish it. This is NOT my best work I don’t love this
This is very OOC for Arlecchino I think, but who cares? Not me
Sequel to the ask I received about childhood Arle and reader as friends!
Contents: crying, mention of self harm (not graphic, but mentioned and briefly talked about without naming it), just sadness
Word count: 3181
Under the cut!!
(Poor reader lmao, projecting all of my school experiences onto her 😓😓)
That day was stupid, you tell yourself. She hurt you, and you shouldn’t have let her back in. You still remember the humiliation of telling your mother that no, she couldn’t come for dinner because you were wrong, and she wasn’t your friend, and that the kids were right, you were weird and weird people deserve to be by themselves. You can still remember the pitying face your mother gave you as you shrunk off to your room to play with more rocks. The memory of you playing with those damn rocks fills your brain as you stare down at the textbook. Why are you so interested in rocks and stones? You don’t know, and part of you wishes you weren’t. You slam the book shut just as a knock on your door sounds out, and Arlecchino’s voice rings out.
“Are you here? You haven’t been answering my messages. I am confused.”
You try to stay silent because there’s no way in hell you want to answer the door right now. You’ve been avoiding her since that night, just like the way you’ve been avoiding everyone else. A vow made to yourself one day in freshman year of high school, avoid everyone like the plague.
“I can see your feet, can you please answer the door?”
A sigh, and your chair pushes back as you stand, walking reluctantly towards the door before you open it, poking your head out.
“What?”
“Can I come in?”
“I’m kind of busy.”
“You’ve been busy since-“
You cut her words short, your voice slightly distant, no trace of the warm child she once rejected.
“Yeah, well, I’m busy. Maybe another time, yeah?”
Your attempt to shut the door fails when her foot blocks the way, her face stern and her eyes dark with.. what is that? Worry? Guilt? Annoyance? You sigh, walking towards your desk again as you clutch the sleeves of your sweater to stop yourself from either crying in frustration or snapping at her.
“Why have you been ignoring me? We had sex, you can’t just ignore me like nothing happened.”
“You’re one to talk about being ignored, hm?”
“..touché. But the point stands.”
“Okay.”
Your head is in your textbook again as you try to grasp how to tell the age of rocks by the patterns inside. Your hand on your temple, attempting to block out the fact she’s stood right there, staring into you like she’s trying to analyse you.
“Damn it, what the hell is wrong? What is your problem?”
“You tell me.”
“I said and did one thing like ten years ago and you still haven’t let go of it! You have to move on. I’m trying to reconnect with you.”
“I’m a weirdo, remember? Why would I try to reconnect with someone who thinks I’m a weirdo? I’d rather hang out with my textbooks and rocks.”
Your voice is sharper than it usually is. You know from so many years of this that you have to toughen yourself up. You can’t let people treat you like this, you know that, but..
“That’s exactly the problem. All you care about is rocks, you never even tried to talk to people.”
Your head snaps around sharply in her direction, a glare on your once smiling face. Your tongue finds its way between your teeth as you take a breath. You can already feel the familiar stabbing pain in your chest.
“I have tried. You just didn’t care to pay attention. I care only about rocks because they’re the only things that won’t be horrible to me! Like you’re any better with your stupid insects.”
You hear a sharp breath being taken as her fists clench for a second. Your face is unreadable, but she can see you’re hurt. She feels guilty, but she’s so annoyed at the same time. She can’t figure you out the way she wants to, she can’t read you the way she can with other people. It’s like you’ve locked yourself away behind a wall that can’t be demolished.
“What the hell happened to you?”
“What? Are you asking me if I was dropped on the head as a baby?”
The words make Arlecchino stop. That was so specific, too specific to not have been said to you before. And your voice is so sharp, so distant. The guilt is beginning to form in a pit in her stomach, pulling her downwards into a sea of anger. Her eyes flick over you, noticing the thing she’s noticed constantly about you.
“No. I’m asking what happened. You were such a happy child and then one day you just weren’t. You were so social and then you stopped talking to anyone, and nobody said anything about it either.”
“Mhm.”
“And now you’re not you. I don’t like it.”
Your mind recalls everything. The day she ditched you seems like such a small thing, but it wasn’t. Not when you pair it with everything else that happened. It was just the icing on the cake. You still remember the feeling, what you turned to, the nights alone. Your vision blurs, but you blink rapidly, fighting the tears away. Arlecchino waits patiently, standing there as she stares at you, analysing your appearance, analysing everything she can about you like you’re one of her insects she plans to research. You’ve never spoken to anyone about this, and you never dreamed of doing it. Especially not to her. But the words beginning spilling out of your mouth in both anger and sorrow.
“Nobody liked me, so I changed. Being me was the wrong thing to do.”
“Wrong? No. People liked you.”
You scoff, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. You know that’s not true, people have told you that.
“Do not lie. Nobody liked me, and it isn’t like they made that painfully obvious.”
“What do you even mean by that? Is that why you..”
She gestures a hand to you, and you know what she means. It isn’t hard to know what she means. Your eyes narrow, and your tone becomes defensive.
“How do you-“
“I just know. I saw one time. You weren’t the best at hiding it, you know. And you didn’t take your sweater off when we had sex. It adds up.”
“Right.”
“You shouldn’t do that, you know. Why? What drove you to start with that? Because people didn’t like you?”
Your jaw tenses. You don’t even know what to say to that. Your hands clasp in front of you, bringing the sleeves of your sweater against your palms, an old childhood habit really, but you never really paid attention to it. You stare in silence for a while before your voice sounds out, quiet, almost sad.
“I don’t need a lecture.”
“Sorry.”
“You really don’t know?”
“No.”
“You don’t remember that the janitor had to lock the changing rooms after school hours because a girl got locked in there for the weekend?”
Arlecchino’s eyes widen for a second as she tries to recall that. She does, in fact, vaguely remember that someone was locked in the changing rooms for an entire weekend in freshman year, and was only found again on the Monday when they had gym class. She feels the pit in her stomach grow significantly.
“That was you?”
“Mhm.”
“What happened?”
“Do you even care?”
A pause, and then:
“I do.”
You begin explaining for the first time in your life, your voice thick and almost wavering. You stare straight ahead at the small amethyst geode next to your bed, refusing to make eye contact. And you explain everything, everything from first grade to now.
“People didn’t like me because they thought I was weird. They thought I was too interested in rocks and that they couldn’t talk to me because of that.”
“You are too interested in rocks.”
“You can go if you’re going to begin with that.”
“No, you’re right. Keep going.”
Your throat constricts. For some reason, all of your anger is towards her. In a sense, she was the catalyst for everything. Not that it’s inherently her fault, but you can’t get her words out of your head.
“I kept trying to make friends but it wasn’t working. They would always play with other girls, which was.. I don’t know, sad, but I could play with myself. Then they wanted to play with me all of a sudden, so we would play hide and seek. They would ask me to hide and they would find me, but they didn’t even try to find me. It was just a ploy to get me away from them. I didn’t get it. I remember thinking that I was a bit sad they never found me until I hid really close to them. I found out they weren’t actually trying to find me, they just talked about me. They called me weird for liking rocks and wanting to play with them.”
You pause, taking a shaky breath before you continue. Arlecchino’s stomach is completely filled with guilt now, because she can tell where this is going. She has the urge to reach out and grab your hand. To trace her fingers over your skin. She doesn’t.
“Then I met you. You tolerated me, at least. And I had never had a friend before. So I remember running home and talking about you to my mom. She was worried, you know. She knew I didn’t have any friends and she saw it made me sad. She was so excited for me and when we stayed friends for a bit— well, ‘friends’, she asked if you wanted to come for dinner. She said I could ask if you wanted to come. I was so happy and I had this whole idea that we were going to swing on the swings in the park and maybe go to the library you liked so much. It turns out you didn’t like me at all.”
Your fingers pick at your nails, and it’s clear that’s something you do often by the way your skin is red and peeling. It was the opposite of her not liking you. She did like you. So much so, that she realised that she was different from other people.
“Stop that.”
Her hand finally reaches over and grabs yours, stopping you from causing more damage to your skin. Her hand are a contrast from yours, her hands patterned and blackened, almost charred and long nails painted perfectly, with your hands being plain, blunt nails that are bitten down. Tears gather on your lashes now as you keep staring at the geode, one you got for your 15th birthday.
“I had to go home to my mom that day and see her excited face. I remember she asked me what you wanted to eat, what she should make and I.. damn it, it was so hard telling her you— yeah. Her face fell, she was so happy I had a friend, and now I didn’t. She asked if I was sad, I said no. I said I didn’t care. I said I knew I was weird anyway and the girls at school said weirdos can’t make friends so it all made sense. I heard her talking to my dad when she thought I was sleeping that night, she was so sad for me.”
“I didn’t mean for it to be so mean.”
“It doesn’t help now. That was just the start of everything.”
A singular tear finally drops from your eyelid, hitting your skin. Everything is running through your mind and it’s so overwhelming you can’t help but choke down a quiet sob. Arlecchino’s own eyes are tearing up, despite her best efforts to hide it. She feels like the guilt is eating her, that the shame of what she said is sucking her into a hole. Ashamed that she said and did all of those things only to fuck you years later like nothing happened. She doesn’t want to hear anymore. But she tells herself that she needs to.
“The other kids caught wind of what happened. “If the loner girl doesn’t want to be friends with her, why would anyone else?” I kept trying to join in conversations, I kept trying to make friends, but it never worked. I got weird looks and insults. I threw a party for my 15th birthday. I invited everyone. Even you. I think a part of me was desperate for someone to show up. I got everything ready at my house, I bought so much food and I had a cake. People said they were coming. They—“
Your words are cut off by a sob. This is the first time you’ve shown any type of emotion in front of someone in years, and you’re cursing yourself for it. And Arlecchino, she’s silent. She’s listening, and she’s so so sad for you. She knows it’s only getting worse because you haven’t even talked about the changing room incident yet.
“Nobody came. I went to bed at 1am after clearing everything away. The food sat in the fridge and I had to throw it away. I did something stupid that night. I wish I didn’t because it became a habit. But I was so sad. I didn’t understand why nobody came, so I asked people. They lied to me, they said they were coming but they didn’t. And then, one Friday, after gym, they hid my gym bag. I spent a while looking, and when I finally found it and tried to leave, they had locked me in there. They said they would let me out when I stopped being a weirdo, because weirdos deserve nothing, they don’t deserve friends. They left, and I was there all weekend until the janitor found me early on the Monday. I never spoke to anyone again.”
The shame Arlecchino feels right now is palpable. She herself is crying now, silently as she stares at the floor. She yells at herself in her head at everything she could have done, but didn’t. Her eyes flick to your upper body, covered by your sweater. It’s not an unusual sight, she hasn’t seen you without a sweater since your 15th birthday. Listening to your shuddering breaths, your sobs, it pains her. So much so that her voice sounds like a yell.
“Why the fuck didn’t you say anything to me? To anyone?”
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that.”
Seeing how broken you are inside, seeing the loneliness that secretly overwhelms you, she wants to punch herself. She wants to apologise, she just.. doesn’t know how. She’s not one to apologise, she never has been. She’s hot headed, cold blooded, but you soften her in a way she’s never felt.
“I’m really sorry I never reached out to you. I’m sorry I called you weird. Really, I am. And I should have never treated you the way I did.”
Her words only make you sob harder. You sob into your sleeve, the fabric muffling your almost wails, your gasping breaths. She feels like her lungs are constricting, she feels like she can’t breathe as she watches you break down into the comfort of your sweater, which is only a painful reminder that you truly have nobody but yourself. She begins wondering how many times you’ve cried like this. How many times you’ve turned to that awful habit. And the thought of that, sitting alone in your room as you cry, breaks her too. She cries into her hands.
“I am sorry. I feel horrible, I’m so ashamed of the way I just didn’t do anything. I could have done something, I should have done something. I pushed you away because I— I had just discovered I didn’t like.. god damn it. I’m a lesbian, and it was then I figured it out. Your fault.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me. I tried to push it down, but every time I saw you it was a mean reminder that I wasn’t like everyone else. You’re such a sweet person, you don’t deserve what you got. You should have been a girl who everyone loved. Instead, you got.. you don’t deserve to be alone like you think. I lov-“
She stops. She takes a breath before she continues. It’s not the time, and she can’t use this situation to confess her infatuation with you. It was an explanation, but she can’t use it as an excuse. She feels so awkward, she hates apologising. She can’t recall a single time she’s apologised properly and meant it. Her hands fumble with her tears as she wipes them away, pushing through the awkwardness she feels.
“I like you. I want to be your friend, at least.”
You don’t reply for a bit as you try hard to calm down. Biting your lip the way you did the way she refused to be your friend, you sigh as your breath hitches.
“You won’t leave me alone until I agree, won’t you?”
“No.”
You sigh as you rub your temple, running your fingers through your hair.
“We can try. Don’t expect anything. We’re not best friends. We can try.”
Relief floods through Arlecchino, at least a bit. She was dreading her apology being rejected, causing more awkwardness. A single nod as she glances up around the room.
“Alright.”
You both sit in silence as you try to calm down. Your hands fumble with your sleeves as the tears dry on your face before her voice is heard again.
“You know you have a cobweb?”
“I know. I’m scared of spiders so I just let it live there.”
“Is it big?”
“No, but I still won’t touch it.”
Her eyes search the corners before she finally finds the little fellow, a small smile gracing her face. Her hands reach up, gently pushing the spider onto her hands. She gingerly approaches you, your eyes following her. You know the fear is irrational, but it’s always been a fear. The spider is almost cute, if it wasn’t for.. you don’t know.
“It’s fine. This species won’t hurt you at all. They look a bit scary but they’re actually not. People just don’t know how to hold them.”
You know she’s trying to distract you. It’s like she knows your thoughts, but she knows better than to speak about it.
“Is that why they run?”
“Mm.”
“How do you hold them, then?”
She looks up at you, as if for permission before she opens her hand and lets the spider crawl onto your sleeve. She figures that it not touching your skin is easier for the first time.
“Just don’t be harsh. Don’t hold them by their legs, let them roam.”
“It’s almost cute.”
“I know. I like the purple rock on your nightstand.”
You both watch the spider as it crawls around your arm, you’re slowly relaxing, still on edge, but.. better.
“It’s a geode. Amethyst.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Can I?”
“Yeah. It’s pretty.”
And for the first time in a long time, a real smile ghosts your face as you begin talking.
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