#they can all be gay it’s ok i promise

[o-vera-nalyzing]

why is it whenever there’s jason/roy and dick/wally in a fic batman is always dating selina kyle and when he’s finally dating superman jason/roy and dick/wally are nowhere to be found.

[todayisafridaynight]

Context: Gus Fring is basically what people think Mine is like. In the Breaking Bad Prequel, he's revealed to be gay, so thank god for that, but aside from that, Fring is focused 100% on efficiency, product, logic, etc. and his Gincarlo Esposito conveys this perfectly

Translation: If movie majima was more bonkers than in Canon, Movie Mine should have a colder machine-like demeanor than he ususally does in canon

(Also how could you not watch Breaking Bad uncultured pleb)

no i got what you were saying dont worry i understood thats just a whole lotta names i gotta read

AND LEAVE ME ALONE I HAVE THE ATTENTION SPAN OF A FRUIT FLY I CAN'T WATCH 62 EPISODESSS

[ableism]

I know i’m functionally a gay DARE officer at this point but I do in fact feel some sort of way about Cocaine being back in vogue. Surely I sound like a square + narc and I’ll concede ok do whatever you want, nobody can materially stop another person from using drugs if they really want to 🤷🏻 I don’t really care that it’s hip to do party drugs, moreso I want to articulate a general level of caution and concern that I never see a sidecar of harm reduction and safe using practices along with the commonplace clips of people straight up snorting coke I’ve seen for “brat summer!!!1!!”

You 🫵 are not immune to ingesting fentanyl or any number of other additives. Do you think drugs at the gay club are different than the drugs people are taking under bridges and in gutters? I promise they’re not! So if you want to use drugs and continue being alive, do your part to be safe. Protecting yourself protects others and your community.

Do not accept drugs from strangers. Test your drugs with fentanyl test strips. Carry narcan and know how to administer it. Never use alone. Have an exit strategy if you’re using drugs in a public space. Know the contact information for your local harm reduction groups, overdose emergency hotline, and if you need/want it, addiction treatment orgs. This is all the bare minimum for community care if you intend to be out in the world using drugs. Mainly I encourage you all to be buzzkills if it means you don’t have to die of an accidental overdose. Overdose is the leading cause of death for Americans under 40. I have a whole lot of social workers in my network and however bad you think the synthetic opioid crisis is, it’s worse. The war stories I’ve heard from my people on the ground are… The shit of nightmares. Don’t let it be you or anybody you love.

If you live in the state of Georgia, DM me for a longer list of resources.

Fentanyl information (harm reduction.org)

Get Narcan

How to use fentanyl test strips

Call 311 to find out where to get Narcan in your community at no cost to you

[estrellami-1]

Ok so I saw a post about Steve as a teacher letting his kids control his Spotify which means his Wrapped is All Over The Place but the top artist is Corroded Coffin and Steve finds out from the thank-you video that Eddie is hot. I see it, I love it, it’s inspired.

I’m thinking something… a little different.

“Alright, class!” Steve calls. “Marcus, it’s your turn to choose the music, right?”

“Actually, Mr. H?” Amber pipes up. “Spotify Wrapped came out today!”

Steve blinks. “Spotify… what?”

Marcus is nodding. “Spotify Wrapped! It tallies up what you’ve listened to and gives you stats and stuff. It’s cool!”

“Ah,” Steve says, nodding, squinting at his computer. “And I see that… how?”

There’s a cacophony of noise until Steve holds up a hand. Everyone quiets, and Becky holds her hand up. He nods at her. “It’s at the top,” she says softly. “Where your recently played is.”

He smiles at her. “Thank you, Becky.” He navigates to it, clicking on it and letting the graphic play.

Their genre, apparently, is soft grass indie metal. He’s entirely sure that’s made up. Their top artist, making up sixty-four percent of the music they listened to, is Corroded Coffin.

There’s a video; a little thank-you the band put together. It starts with Eddie up front, as the lead singer. Gareth, Jeff, and Freak are slightly behind him, grinning at the camera. Steve recognizes the background as Jeff’s living room. “Hi!” Eddie starts. “Thanks so much for listening to our music this year.”

“We couldn’t do what we do without you,” Gareth adds on.

“And everything we do is for you!” Jeff says.

“It’s totally metal of you to listen to our music, and we appreciate it!” Freak finishes. They all wave, and the camera cuts off.

Steve is… gobsmacked. He loves his husband, truly, but he looks so uncomfortable, and the way he’s speaking is weirdly stilted. He was not made to stand still.

He shakes his head, knowing he’s about to make Eddie’s year, and blow these kids’ minds.

Eddie had always been more vocal than Steve about coming out, saying fuck it to the consequences. Maybe being gay was accepted in the metal community, but Steve had been too new in his current job to even think about the jeopardy this could put his career in.

But honestly. That video was terrible, and his kids deserve better.

He sighs, raises a hand to get the class’s attention. “I know that was cool,” he chuckles. “But if you can be quiet and patient, I could get you something even cooler.”

“Cooler than a video from Corroded Coffin?” Nick asks.

Steve tilts his head. “Cooler than that video, at least.”

Nick doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure?”

Steve just smiles. “How about we find out?” He puts a finger to his lips and FaceTimes Eddie.

He makes sure his volume is low, enough so that he even has trouble hearing when Eddie picks up.

“Baby!” Eddie exclaims, then clocks the background and is instantly worried. “Wait, you’re still at work. Are you okay? Is everything okay? Did you hit your head again? Do I need to come get you?”

“Christ, you’re dramatic,” Steve mutters, grinning wide. “I’m fine. I’m with my class, and we just finished looking at our Spotify Wrapped. Guess who our number one artist for the year was.”

Eddie’s eyes sparkle. He grins. Steve nods. “Corroded Coffin,” he confirms, then sighs. “I have to say, though, I was a little disappointed by the video.”

Eddie groans, throwing his head back. Steve gets a great view up his husband’s nose. “I know! I know, it sucked, but the guys were happy with it and it was, like, our eighth go, and-”

“I get it,” Steve promises. “But how would you like to one-up it?”

It takes Eddie a second, but his eyes gleam. “Are you sure? Your career-”

“Is stable enough now,” Steve finishes. “I’m sure. If you are.”

“Fuck,” Eddie mouths, conscientious of Steve’s class. “I love you.”

Steve smiles, blows a kiss to the camera. He gets a smattering of awws from some of his female students.

He figures out how to connect his phone to his computer to the screen, pushes the volume button up, and nods. “Go, Eds.”

Eddie grins and waves at the screen. “Hi, Mr. Harrington’s class! I’ve heard so much about you guys. It’s totally metal that you’re listening to our music—that’s something your teacher neglected to tell me.” He grins at the screen, a private thing for Steve, who dutifully rolls his eyes.

“I hear your music every day, Eds, forgive me if I don’t think anything of it when I hear it here and at home.”

“Mr. H,” Nathan asks in a pseudo-whisper, “how the hell do you know Eddie Munson?”

Eddie bursts out in a laugh. “You must be Nathan,” he says.

Nathan goes white, then pink. “H-hi, Mr. Munson, sir.”

“I think you should be their teacher,” Steve says, grinning first at Eddie, then his class. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard Nathan say sir before.”

Everyone laughs—including Nathan—and Eleanor raises her hand. “How do you know him?”

Steve takes a breath, glances at his phone. Eddie’s smiling patiently at him, and Steve’s own smile grows as he answers her. “I’m his husband,” he tells her.

“Ten years and counting!” Eddie crows. “Though we’ve known each other for… twenty… something.”

Steve chuckles. “Twenty-three, Eds. If you count high school, which I don’t.”

“But I do,” Eddie nods. “Twenty-three years. And counting.”

Steve chuckles again. “And counting,” he agrees.

As his room explodes into noise, he looks back at his phone to find Eddie already looking at him.

That’s the way it goes, he thinks. Eddie saw him the whole time. It took Steve a while to catch up, but now that he has, he’s never been happier.

Twenty-three years and counting, indeed.

[archangeldyke-all]

jinx teasing sev and saying that she wouldn’t be able to survive a week without kissing r bc she’s “whipped”

sev takes that to heart and in fact does try to prove jinx wrong, but the second she sees r’s sweet and confused face at her dodging the kiss she breaks and apologizes and promises to make it up to her bc lets be honest sev wouldn’t be able to go even a day without kissing her precious gf

GOD i'm gonna make this roach verse.

i'll give a vague explanation below the cut so people who aren't familiar with that fic and still want to read this blurb can have context

men and minors dni

ok all u need to know is that sevika and reader had a whole enemies to lovers thing when reader got hired as jinx's (age 11ish in this blurb) nanny. they're madly in love now, and sevika has learned to tolerate (love) jinx too.

what sevika doesn't know is that you've been in on it from the start.

jinx was teasing you, about the kisses you're always pressing on sevika's cheeks and the way you're always tucking her loose hairs behind her ears, and you got flustered and blurted "at least i'm not as bad as sevika!"

jinx, of course, cackled and agreed with you, then she asked, "you think you can get her to buy us jericho's tonight?"

you giggled and ruffled her hair. "probably. you wanna have some fun with it though?" you asked.

which is how you're here.

jinx made a bet with sevika that she couldn't last more than a day without kissing you. sevika, of course, took the bait-- desperate to prove jinx wrong without thinking through the consequences.

consequences being, of course, your pout when she dodges your kiss at lunch. (jinx is hiding her giggles behind her hand. sevika is hiding her own pout behind hers.)

you try again when she helps you and lock clear the plates after the gang eats. (jinx tags along, carrying a singular fork as her version of 'helping'-- just to see if sevika fails on her bet) sevika ignores your attempted forehead kiss, making a u-turn and practically running back out into the bar.

and then, you bring out the puppy eyes.

standing just outside of jinx's room while she 'reads her books' you confront sevika. she cringes the moment she sees you, and you just sigh. "sev..."

"baby, c'mere." she sighs, wrapping her arms around you, folding immediately. if you focus, you think you can hear jinx hyperventilating from holding her laughs in her room. "i made this dumbass bet with jinx that i could go the whole day without kissing you, and i didn't get the chance to let you in on it without the brat around." she pouts. you blink up at her, trying to make your eyes as big as possible.

before you can speak, sevika darts down to kiss you. you can't help but giggle against her lips. when she pulls away, you finally sigh.

"i guess that's alright."

"it's not." she kisses you again. "i felt like i was stubbing my toe each time i dodged you." she pecks you once more. you start to giggle. "what can i do to make it up to you?" she asks.

in her room, you hear jinx's muffled "fuck yes!"

you just bat your eyes at sevika. "wanna take me to jericho's for dinner tonight?"

sevika nods. "do we have to bring the brat?"

you chuckle. "duh. it's her favorite, she'd kill us if we went without her."

"fine." sevika sighs, kissing you one last time before turning around and marching away-- off to do whatever job silco's got her on today.

jinx's door flies open, and the girl comes flying out, cackling manically. "we did it!"

"i told you we could." you say, ruffling her bangs. you pull her to your side and start walking the pair of you toward the stairs. "c'mon. dinner's not 'til late and i'm hungry. wanna share some flamers?" you ask. jinx nods, giving you a quick hug before darting off and scrambling down the stairs toward the kitchen.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

[dreamertf]

Follow the Instructions

/hello! Hope you enjoy this one, im gonna start tagging ai as #ai tf so if you dont want to see any ai images in your tfs you can block that tag. Ill also be putting a disclaimer at the top of each post that has ai.

/contains ai images & video

/includes; muscle growth, suggestion tf, straight to gay tf

"Yeah, Im feeling fine!"

Jason was tired of how weak and scrawny his best friend Max stayed throughout their time in high school and now, college. So he had given Max a new black market roid that promised to "make him a bro." He crushed up a few of the pills without looking at the instructions and baked it into a cookie he gave Max.

Jason wasn't so bad himself, 6'4" and muscular, with a charming face. Little did he know that his height that he had since he was a sophmore in highschool would be changing.

Jason stared at Max as his skin started to ripple and shift.

"Are you sure?"

"Never better, bro."

Max ripped his shirt off as his muscles swelled. A deep canyon of rippling abs leading up to two giant slabs of muscle. He flexed and stretched as his biceps filled out.

"Sorry, im feeling a little hot." Max said non chalantly. His muscles continued to grow as he flexed them.

"Oh my god it worked"

"What worked?"

"Oh nothing, dont worry about it."

"Ok brah"

Their surrounds changed from school as it turned into a living room, a living room Jason had been in so many times before, Max's living room. All of a sudden, Jason felt a pull towards Max. He couldn't stop looking at him, like literally. He traced Max's outline as each muscle became more prominent. He stared at the giant as he grew taller and taller, but something wasn't right. It was like everything around Jason was getting taller too.

Unfortunately, Jason hadn't looked into how the roid actually worked. On the back of the small blue box, it read ;

Are you tired of being weak and nerdy? We got you covered. We believe the human mind is a powerful tool, and our Bro Pill helps you to use it to your full potential! Not only does it shift your mindset to be more focused on sports and the bros, but it also changes various other aspects of your life in order to fit your new you! We recommend taking one pill weekly until desired affects.

WARNING: taking more than one pill a week may intensify the effect you have on other people

Jason panicked as he felt himself losing muscle and height. His features softened as he turned from a rugged man into a young 20 something twink. It looks like the god of Jason's creation has type cast him as his twinky boyfriend. Making Max a jock apparently didn't override his sexuality.

"What are you doing to me?"

His voice was still deep, too deep for someone like him.

"Make that voice a little higher, and can you please quit being so worried brah? Be like me, stop thinkin as much little guy huhuhu."

A wave of relief came over Jason as he collapsed onto the couch. His body continued to shrink as he lost his height, becoming about 5'6" compared to Max's new 6'8". His musculature toned down more, not as defined anymore.

"Whatever you say babe" Jason giggled, his voice much higher and more flamboyant.

"Thats my pretty boy." Conversely, Max's voice became much deeper and demanding. Jason felt himself starting to get hornier.

"I'm so happy i couldfind you. Your ass was like made for my dick huhuhu" Max said as he spread his legs wide as his pouch grew bigger. He had one more explosive growth as his shoulder broadened and his pecs filled out more. Jason shifted in his seat as his ass grew more plump and muscular.

"What do you mean?" Jason feigned innocence, turning the ditziness all the way up.

"Come here and I'll show you, slut."

[oxydiane]

we talk a lot about how sasuke and naruto are so crazy about each other but there’s never enough attention on how the rest of the naruto cast Also thinks they are two fucking lunatics. like we are not alone on this. you have jiraiya telling naruto he needs to not go and chase a mf who tried to snatch his heart out his ribcage and naruto is like no i’d rather be a fucking moron for the rest of my life honestly. you have naruto leaving a mission and saying sory i cannot stay i need to go home and wait for sasuke and the fucking platypus looks at him ???? like he even had me confused where are you goin g to wait? ? why are you saying that like sasuke is coming back the fuck did i miss??? you have the kage summit arc which is just a whole bucket of ice being dropped onto you because you come in and immediately get slapped in the face by naruto letting himself be beat up because he won’t tell them where sasuke is??? like he has any fucking idea where sasuke is. and sai tries to make him come to his senses like naruto??? naruto WHAT ARE U DOING. it’s so bad they need an intervention. right after that naruto faces the raikage and gets on his knees saying i know my almost boyfriend almost killed your brother but i promise it wasn’t on purpose he was just being silly please don’t put a bounty on his head a war will literally ensue. and like. there’s LAYERS to this. 1. even RAIKAGE is like BOY what are you doing. STAND UP. 2. at this point you can count the people who like sasuke on the fingers of one hand like WHO is gonna start a war over him… naruto out there moving a war against a whole country by himself over his bf ok you go girl i guess. after this it gets even worse like gaara has to go up to him and be like SASUKE DOWSNT CARE ABOUT YOU. HE DOES NOT WANT YOU. and naruto just slaps his hand away in front of his family like rude?????? ignoring anything it is hilariouuusssss and then sai is like sorry. sakura lied to you they are actually off to kill sasuke and naruto gets a panic attack so severe he passes out. like i am not joking it was so bad his friends tried to kill sasuke behind his back. and then naruto escapes bedriddenment (is that a word?) after passing out from his panic attack to run and make sure NOBODY kills sasuke. like he’s on a RUSH leaping those trees he’s a boy on a mission. then after he gets there he’s like kakashi DO NOT TOUCH HIM. they launch themselves at each other bla bla gay monologues did you see what was in my heart and then. and then naruto is like. wait sasuke. and sasuke waits like sorry that’s such a little thing but it’s so funny to me like sasuke was just acting a lil murderous crazy manic wtv but naruto told him to wait and he waits. ok good boyfriend. anyways moving on naruto is like do you get it sasuke. if we fight again we will BOTH DIE! (everybody gets a ?????? bubble) i am the only one who can shoulder all that hatred. i will CARRY THE BURDEN OF YOUR HATRED AND WE WILL DIE TOGETHER! and . absolutely Everybody in that room just goes ???????????? what the FUCK is he TALKING ABKHT. everybody except sasuke. sasuke smirks and he’s like sure. they just talked about dying together and meeting each other in a different life where they’ll be free of their burdens and they’re just Fine and all ok smiling at each other and everyone is so fucking confused. like the entire supporting cast is with us side eyeing sasuke and naruto and thinking what in the everloving FUCK is WRONG WITH YOU????????

[petew21-blog]

Stop the bullying

Aiden was your typical straight bro, just lifting and pumping his body with his bro in the campus gym and in the afternoons playing football. He still couldn't let go of his high school ways of bullying people, so he tormented them even here in college.

How could people let him? Well he was a jock and a very favourite nephew of the dean and everytime a problem occured, the dean very efficiently solved it by punishing the other student. Efficient right?

That was until Aiden and Tom tormeneted yet another one of his gay classmates just right outside of the parking lot by beating him right next to one of the cars. What Aiden didn't know was that a very well known stoner was sitting on the other side.

Trevor was incredibly stoned, but not that much to save one of his fellow classmates. He entered the scene slightly confused what was happening

Trevor:"You guys would mind stopping this shit? It's interrupting my meditating session"

Aiden:"Get lost stoner or you're next"

Trevor:"I don't want to be rude, but I have to warn you. If you won't stop, I'll have to stop you myself" Trevor took of his beanie threw it on the ground and carefully placed the lit joint next to it

Aiden:"Just shut the fuck up already" and threw a punch at Trevor. Trevor only smiled and didn't even flinch. Maybe it was because of the fact that he knew the ounch would go right through him and it would be the needed thing to let him possess Aiden. Trevor got sucked in right in front of the other two guys. It took him a while to position himself

He woke up to the the sight of schocked Thomas and the poor gay fella on the ground trying to cover himself

Trevor positioned his cap on the head. "Ahh, you guys just left the gym right? Man, he reeks so much." and sniffed his new armpits obssesively. Then he took off his shirt, throwing it next to the gay guy and just examined his new torso. Smiling and touching his new chest and abs. That's when his eyes widened as he saw the joint on the ground slowly burning away. "Oh no. Can't let it go to waste!"

Thomas just kept staring with his mouth wide open.

Trevor leaned closer to Thomas and started talking:"I'm not sure you understand the situation that'sd happening here right now Thomas. But if you don't want this guy on the ground to take your body next, I suggest you keep your motuh shut about all of this and run away"

Thomas looked back only once as he was running away from his friend, or was he somewhere in there still? He might never know

Trevor reached out his hand to the guy on the ground:"It's safe now, man. Promise that this arm won't hurt you anymore."

The guy hesistated but than took his hand. He stood up, painfully grunting and holding his stomach.

Trevor inhaled the smoke from the joint and asked the guy:"So... what's your name man? You're ok?"

"I'm Martin, I... I think I am ok. So... Are you...? Who are you?"

"Well my name is Trevor, or Aiden now, I guess. haha. And don't worry I won't possess you. It's a power I use only when I think it's helping others, or.... when I need to get some confiscated weed. You wouldn't believe how much the police has stashed. And how ripped some of them are haha"

Martin was checking out Aiden's body as Trevor was enjoying his smoking, getting in the mood more rapidly than he was used to in his own body. Martin noticed the beanie lying on the ground. He tried to reach it but it was still painful. Trevor noticed and grabbed it himself

"Haha, I think Aiden will have a much needed style change. Gone are the days of the jock, in with the chill"

"So... Trevor? You can actually make other people possess someone?"

"Yes, sir. Who do you have in mind? I would be very happy to let you pick someone, but... morally I would be happier if it would be someone not very honest."

"Well... there is this girl in my class, Samantha and she is a total bitch. Just like Aiden. Would you let me possess her?"

Trevor:"Samantha? You wanna possess a girl? But I thought you were gay, man."

Martin:"Yeah, well that's the thing. Her boyfriend is Marc, the quarterback. And I had a crush on him since forever. I don't care if I am a girl or a boy. As long as I am with him."

Trevor:"Well, as you wish sir"

vv

Trevor did as he promised and than went on as his day would normally go. Not like he had anything planned anyway. His phone kept buzzing about Aiden's football pracitce, but he didn't care. His destination now was the locla skatepark. To Trevor, the swap meant a few things: he now had a stable flow of cash, he was hotter, he was fitter and he didn't have to worry about his future anymore

When Trevor finished with his skating he got the courage to enter Aiden's home. He was welcomed by Aiden's girlfriend who he then went on to have a very wild sex in the bed. Trevor didn't mind that she was a girl, just one of the few perks of being a bisexual. You get a much bigger dating pool.

Trevor let his new girlfriend sleep next to him and right as he was in the bed, he proceeded to lit up another of his joints he grabbed on the way.

Naked, high on weed and exploring his body. Enjoying the hard dick in his hand. Inhalimg the musk in his armpits. He couldn't get enough. He kept jerking off, thrusting his hips while caressing the muscles with the joint in his hands. So tight and compact. Everything was his now. The whole world was

The girlfriend woke up, schocked about the stateshe found him. Still jerking and smoking weed. She kept shouting about something but Trevor only heard himself saying:"Close the door behind you when you're leaving" and still kept jerking off.

And as she left, he unleashed streams of cum and shot up right up to his face. "Damn, Aiden. You cum a lot. I love this"

The months went by and the ex-straight ex-jock ex-bully was no a very newly transformed stoner, skater, but still maintaining his beatiful muscularity, bisexual man, who now kept dating and screwing a few women and men. Who knows how Aiden's feeling right now, right? Maybe he would enjoy the fuck that his body is high right now fucking a beautiful girl. Maybe he wouldn't really enjoy that his body had a huge dick in his ass. Who knows

Another story request from the inbox: Hey love your work! Thoughts on having a tough straight college jock getting possessed by a bisexual stoner/skater, enjoying his musk & muscles and becoming a laid back weed smoking himbo?

[gassydumbjocks]

Virilite 1:

Boys will be boys

Ever since I spiked my nephew Liam's beer with a strange pill I found online when he and my brother came to watch a football match, that boy has been acting like a man, as he should.

You see, my brother Noah had a son who, don't get me wrong, I love this boy with all my soul, but god damn he had to grow up and start acting like what he was, a dude, always wearing those girly crop tops and tight-fitting jeans with bright colors because "that's who he was", I admit that I was clearly upset when he revealed to the family that he was gay, but even so I couldn't do anything and neither could Noah, so we decided to accept him as he was, until I found a way to... make him act as he should.

While looking at online articles I found this article online that was supposed to be some pills that could have an effect on the behavior and actions of the person that took them, yes, I know, very science fiction-like, still, what caught my attention was the name and objective of the pill, "Virilite" was its name, and it promised to also have an effect on the levels of testosterone produced in men, which ended up convincing me to buy it.

The instructions were simple, put them in the drink or food that said man was going to consume, once ingested the guy would enter an immediate state of trance, able to only follow the orders that another person suggested in his mind, there were even images of test subjects boys who I assume took the pill, they all had a relaxed yet funny expression, eyes crossed and some even with tongues sticking out like dogs, I couldn't help but laugh at the thought of Liam looking like that.

Just as i was now, immediatly after i got Liam to drink it after offering him a beer, he letted out an involuntary loud and guttural deep belch, which from what i knew and readed online was a sign that the pill already took effect, i had Liam in front of me with a dumb smile and an eye-crossed, glazed over look, like that huge burp just took away all his thoughts and personality.

After the first 5 minutes of calling his name and getting no response, i actually started to worry, he couldn't stay as a brainless zombie-like dumbass all his life, and Noah would find out and kill me for it, i tried to remember, i took the pill's container and readed again the instructions.

"Ohh, so i have to, uh, kinda program him?" i said and then i thought of things i could make him do, i certainly bought those pills to make the kid more like a man... So, hell, what a man i would mold out of him.

I heard him let out a dumb chuckle still with that goofy smile from before, i smirked and approached "Liam, buddy, you hear me champ, you hear uncle Dave?" i asked to make sure he could indeed hear me, he slowly nodded and let out some hiccups "great, cuz we got a lot of work to do on you, and im sure you'll love it" i say.

I think of the first command to give him, they suggest to use short and simple commands, there are plenty of manly things he needs to learn, but i think i can cover up basic stuff, i remember Noah and me asking him to join us in our protein farting contests when we relaxed in our man cave watching our team, while Liam just grimaced and waved his hand, saying it was immature and gross, i would make him change his opinion, so it was obvious what would be the command "Liam...fart, loudly and proudly, c'mon" i literally order him to fart, i just wanted to test the effectiveness of the command obeying.

Without hesitation, he lifts his right leg as high as he can, leaving his butt in the air, before a barrage of gas goes out his butt.

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTT!!!!

Its so strong, big and beefy, even for me, i have to wave the smell and open a window nearby "good lord boy! Where in the hell did you got all that gas from!?" i ask impressed, and try to recover before continuing "ok ok lets keep up!, umm, belch, a nice deep man belch" i say, waiting for it.

I didn't even have to wait when he was already patting his chest and squinting an eye to help the gas release.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRPPP!!!

And holy fuck, if Liam was concious, he'd know that beast burp would have easily beat his old man and me in our oftens belch offs, the pill was clearly making a miracle on him.

I was admitidly having fun on my nephew making all the stuff he found "gross" and "immature" under a pill's control, i gave him another command, just to get a good laugh "Liam, do some armpit farts, but in the last one, you'll ask me to pull your finger, you'll let out a monster fart, got it?" i asked and he nodded again, he then started with the manly symphony, he took a hand down one of his pits and started to produce the nasty sounds.

PPPPPRRRRTTT

PPPPPPRRRRRRTTT

PPPPPPRRRRRTT

PPPPPPPRRRRRTT

I saw him stop and put hand on his gut, then he talked goofily "uncle, pull my finger" he asked dumbly before laughing and extend his hand at me, i gladly accepted "oh of course kiddo, let me help you with that" i smirked and pulled it hard, unleashing the beast gas he had stuck in his rump.

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!

An ABSOLUTELY disgusting deep-ass and loud, nasty fart erupted from him, Liam never losing the crossed look on his face, as he hiked exaggerately his leg to force the fart out, i was shocked, but in the end, finally proud of him, i couldn't wait for Noah to see what he could do! We would think on more funny stuff to do at our just guys nights! After all, boys will be boys, right?

[johnbrand]

Future of America

It all felt surreal. The final count had been secured. 312 electoral votes for Donald Trump, definitively more than half of the country. The popular vote swung right too. It was shocking, the defeat of all that was good in the world practically numbing Michael and Benjamin. The District of Columbia had guarded the two best friends from the outside state of the world. They could not have prepared for everything to be back on the line in an instant: their friends and families, their rights, and even their homosexuality.

“I mean, it just doesn’t make sense,” Michael, the political sciences major, ranted. “Everything seems so fishy. How could all the swing states vote for this trash?”

Benjamin, although physically shorter, did not hold such a short temper. The bubblier of the two pursuing a degree in psychology, Benjamin tried to take a more optimistic approach to the situation. “It’ll be fine. There’s no way he can deliver on everything he’s promised. No president has completely fulfilled everything they’ve wanted to do in office.”

Michael groaned as they continued forward across the green. Their morning walks had always passed the judicial buildings of the capital. But now it felt as if there was something different about them. Instead of the usual respect, the two now conjured contempt for the place. “Even if that’s true, I thought we were supposed to represent the ‘future of America’.”

“Apparently everyone else isn’t ready for that future yet,” Benjamin shrugged. “I mean, they can barely handle our short shorts, so having gay men was probably a step too far.”

They both sighed, taking a seat upon the steps leading up to the buildings housing their government. Both at average heights, average musculatures, and scoring average attractiveness, no one typically bothered the pair in public. And besides Michael’s pierced ears and Benjamin’s bleached hair, there was nothing particularly effeminate about them. So, it came as a surprise when something did stray from the norm.

“Ow!” Benjamin turned to face Michael, who was peeling a wad of newspaper from his face. The wind had brought the paper airborne before smacking it right into Michael’s face. 

“You ok?” Benjamin asked, the smallest smile creeping onto his lips.

“Guess I just got slapped by the ‘future of America’,” Michael pointed to the headline of the front page, but Benjamin’s eyes were drawn somewhere else.

“Since when did you start growing out a beard?”

“What?” Benjamin asked, scratching at the thick clutch of hair covering his face. Benjamin’s eyes trailed lower as he watched Michael's body hair begin to sprout up and over the hem of the fitness shirt, before spilling out onto his exposed arms and legs. “I’ve had a beard since high school, man.”

“‘Man’?” Benjamin questioned the term, foreign to their language. Before he could analyze further, Michael’s top and shorts began to elongate. Their breathable fabric thickened and expanded, morphing into a plain gray henley and a pair of jeans that had certainly lived a few lives. 

“M…M…Michael! You’re…you’re…” Benjamin stuttered as the changes grew more drastic. His friend grew before him, the lean frame inflating with muscle before being covered by a light layer of fat. The farmer’s build became more apparent as it was centralized in locations. Michael’s hands bloated into mitts, his face squared out from the more-than-occasional beer, his feet widened into their new, larger brown boots. 

“What, bro?” Michael asked as the first of wrinkles began to sprout around his eyes. His thinning hair was quickly covered by the white MAGA cap that materialized on top of his head. “Oh, do you want to hold it? Here, but be careful; that paper is like a new New Testament.”

Benjamin, too stunned by Michael’s deeper voice, slight age progression, and overall sudden transformation, could not form a coherent sentence as he was handed the newspaper. But the more he tried to reflect on this warping event, the more Benjamin struggled too. Michael had had a beard since high school, right? Michael had not been 21, but 31, right? Mike had always been a straight, white, proud MAGA enthusiast, right?

Lost in his own head, Benjamin did not even recognize the effects of the newspaper transposing onto him. His own fingers fattening into calloused claws. Hair rippling across his forearms and down his chest and legs. Muscle pumping underneath each available surface, followed by a helping of fat to create a muscle gut that would cement a burgeoning ex-jock figure. Skimpy running fit stretching into a soft plaid and dirtied jeans. Thickening skull covered by a navy blue hat proclaiming that he too would become a part of this new era. 

“Hold the paper a little higher,” Mike instructed, dragging Ben out of thoughts. “Now smile.”

The two men posed for the picture, proud to represent the future of America.

[30somethingautisticteacher]

The drunk woman was relentless, invading Tommy's personal space as he tried to step back. He kept flashing his ring, but either she hadn't noticed or simply didn't care. Tommy glanced at his watch, grateful Evan hadn't arrived yet to see this mess.

"I'm just a poor girl all alone and new to the city," she slurred, pressing closer. "Can you help me get home safely? You can drive me, and then you can come up and I can thank you properly." She traced a finger down his arm. "I'm sure your wife wouldn't mind."

'Okay, she just doesn't care,' Tommy thought, taking a step back.

"I'm sure the bartender would be happy to call a cab for you," he said firmly.

"But you're so big and strong. I would feel so protected," she pouted, swaying slightly.

"I'm flattered, but I'm sure you'll be plenty safe," Tommy said, maintaining his distance. "And my husband won't like you all over me."

"Husband?" the woman spat, her flirtatious demeanor instantly shifting. "Seriously, you're gay?" Her slurred voice dripped with disdain.

It was at that exact moment that Evan appeared.

"Oh, he's very, very gay," Evan said, draping his arms over Tommy's shoulders and pulling him in for a steamy kiss.

"Hi, baby," Tommy said when they broke apart, his earlier tension melting away at his husband's presence.

"You can go now," Evan said dismissively to the woman.

"You're the husband?" she scoffed, looking Evan up and down with obvious judgment. "What a waste."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Evan asked, his voice sharpening. Tommy could feel him tensing up beside him.

"Not worth it, sweetheart," Tommy said softly, squeezing Evan's hand. He knew that tone in his husband's voice - the one that meant someone had struck a nerve.

"No, I want to know," Evan insisted, his jaw set. The playful possessiveness from moments ago had been replaced by something harder, more defensive. "What exactly is being wasted here?"

"Your lifestyle," she sneered, waving her hand dismissively. "Two big, strong, handsome men shacking up together."

"Shacking up?" Evan said, his voice dangerously quiet. The woman had crossed a line, and Tommy knew his husband well enough to recognize when he was about to snap.

"We're not shacking up," Evan continued, holding up his left hand where his wedding ring caught the bar lights. "We're married. Legally married. I walked down an aisle, said vows, signed papers, and promised to love this man for the rest of my life. And you know what? It was the best decision I ever made."

Tommy's heart swelled, watching his husband defend their marriage.

"So no, it's not a waste. What would be a waste is if I pretended to be something I'm not just to make people like you comfortable. Now if you'll excuse us, I'd like to have a drink with my husband."

"You people," the girl said, shaking her head in disgust.

Tommy felt Evan stiffen next to him, ready for another round, but this time Tommy stepped forward. He'd let Evan handle it his way, now it was his turn.

"Ah, 'you people,'" Tommy said, his voice calm but firm. "Let me tell you about 'us people.' My husband and I are first responders. We put our lives on the line every single day for others - including people who think like you do. I spent years hiding who I was because of that kind of hatred, afraid to be myself. But then I finally accepted who I really was, and that opened my heart to the possibility of love. And I found it - real, earth-shattering, life-changing love."

He pulled Evan closer, feeling his husband relax against him. "So the only waste here would be letting people like you make us ashamed of something so beautiful."

Tommy turned away from the woman, effectively dismissing her. "Come on, baby."

The woman slunk away into the crowd, her previous bravado gone.

"You ok, babe?" Evan asked, turning to Tommy with concern.

"Are you kidding?" Tommy said, pulling him closer by his belt loops. "That was extremely sexy watching you tell her off like that. Look how far my little baby bi has come."

"Couldn't have done it without you," Evan said softly.

"You know, I'm actually more hungry than thirsty," Tommy said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh, is that so?" Evan replied, a knowing smirk spreading across his face."Well, we should probably do something about that."

"Yeah, we probably better," Tommy said, pulling Evan in for a heated kiss.

When they broke apart, Evan was speechless. He shook his head. "But not here."

"Right, right, let's get out of here."

They stumbled out of the bar together, Tommy tugging Evan along by their joined hands. Their laughter mixed with the night air, any trace of anger long forgotten replaced by the joy of just being together.

[playboysaleen]

Through Ash and Iron (3)

Jinx x Reader x Caitlyn

Just keep letting me cook ok?

Summary: Through Ash and Iron plunges you into the heart of Piltover’s gritty streets, where you’ve always felt the weight of your family’s failures. Rejected from the Junior Enforcer Program, your anger burns brighter than ever—until one fateful punch changes everything. The eyes of Piltover’s elite may look down on you, but it’s the wild eyes of Jinx that truly see you. She’s chaos personified, and you’re drawn to the destruction she promises. But that’s not all. Caitlyn Kiramman, a poised enforcer with a soft spot for rebels like you, offers you a chance to rewrite your future—if you can control the rage you can’t seem to escape.Torn between the order Caitlyn represents and the dangerous freedom Jinx offers, you stand at the crossroads of two worlds. As your power grows, so does the tension between these two women. One promises a chance at belonging, while the other ignites a fire you didn’t know you had. But the choices you make will change everything—not just for you, but for both cities teetering on the edge of war. Who will you choose? And how much of yourself will you lose along the way?

Warnings: Violence duh, gay panic(lol), cursing, all that jazz (whatever you seen in Arcane is what you gon see here)This is also a slight AU.

Word Count: 4.4k

A/n: Reader is masc cause this was typically just for me to read but i decided to share it with you all so. Enjoy.

_________________________

Sevika pushed open the door to Jinx’s lair with more force than usual, the heavy thud echoing in the dimly lit space. Jinx sat cross-legged on her worktable, absently tinkering with a small device, her purple eyes glowing faintly in the shadows.

“Got news,” Sevika said, her voice unusually strained as she moved deeper into the room.

“Unless it’s about the moon exploding or Enforcers turning into frogs, I don’t care,” Jinx muttered, not looking up.

Sevika didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she paced, her metal arm twitching slightly. When Jinx finally glanced up, she frowned at the tension rolling off the older woman.

“It’s about Isha,” Sevika said, her voice low.

Jinx froze, her hands stilling on the device. Her eyes narrowed. “What about her?”

“She’s been taken. The Enforcers got her during the rally.”

Jinx’s face hardened, her fingers curling tightly around the small contraption in her hands. “And you just let them take her?”

“Wasn’t a matter of letting them, Jinx. It was chaos,” Sevika snapped, then sighed heavily. “But there’s more. A lot more.”

Sevika moved toward the balcony, nodding for Jinx to follow. With a huff of annoyance, Jinx slipped off the table, trailing after her. Stepping outside, Sevika leaned against the railing, nodding toward the empty courtyard below.

“Down there,” Sevika began, her eyes narrowing. “She’s been at it for the last twenty minutes.”

Jinx followed her gaze to see you in the courtyard, the remnants of your rage etched into the ground. Shattered crates and barrels littered the space, and you were pacing furiously, shouting into the void. With a guttural scream, you grabbed a heavy metal pipe from the ground and hurled it across the yard like it weighed nothing, the force causing it to embed itself into a distant wall.

“Damn,” Jinx muttered, her brows lifting.

“She went feral during the rally,” Sevika said, her tone grave. “I’m talking tearing through Embessa’s most advanced Enforcers. She ripped the armor off one like it was paper, Jinx. She’s got strength I’ve never seen—speed, too. But it wasn’t just that.” Sevika turned to face Jinx fully. “Her eyes. They sparked. Purple. Like—”

“Shimmer,” Jinx finished, her voice quiet but sharp.

Sevika nodded. “She’s got control… mostly. But when she loses it, it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. She’s a weapon, Jinx. A dangerous one. But right now, she’s losing it, and if we don’t get her calmed down, someone else is gonna try and stop her—and we know how that ends.”

Jinx’s gaze lingered on you, something flickering in her expression—curiosity, concern, and something deeper she couldn’t quite name. “That’s her,” Jinx murmured, almost to herself.

Sevika frowned. “Her who?”

Jinx leaned on the railing, watching as you threw another heavy object clear across the courtyard with a shout. “The one I saw. She’s the key, Sevika.”

“The key to what?” Sevika asked, skeptical.

Jinx didn’t answer. Instead, her lips twisted into a smirk that didn’t quite hide her unease. “Doesn’t matter. She’s ours now. We’ll figure it out.”

Sevika glanced at her sideways. “Okay, great. But how exactly do we calm her down? Look at her.”

As if on cue, an unlucky soldier who had wandered into the courtyard to reason with you ended up hurtling through the air, slamming into the wall beside Jinx. The soldier slid down with a groan, leaving a visible dent in the concrete.

Jinx didn’t flinch, though her eyes flicked back to you. She sighed dramatically. “Guess it’s my turn.”

Sevika raised a brow. “You sure about that? She might throw you next.”

Jinx shrugged, already heading for the staircase. “I’m good at dodging.”

When she reached the courtyard, you were pacing, your fists clenching and unclenching as your breath came in ragged gasps. Your eyes flashed purple again, and Jinx felt her stomach twist. Still, she kept her usual banter in place.

“Y’know, if you keep throwing things, there’s not gonna be much left of this place. And I just cleaned up,” she teased, her voice light.

You didn’t respond, barely even acknowledging her. She stopped a few feet away, tilting her head as she watched you.

“Hey,” she tried again, her tone softening just slightly. “Look at me.”

Still nothing. Jinx hesitated, her fingers twitching before she finally stepped forward, grabbing your face with both hands.

You froze at the sudden contact, your wide eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, neither of you moved. Jinx’s breath caught in her throat as she stared into your eyes, the faint purple spark flickering like lightning in a storm.

Déjà vu washed over her, an overwhelming sense of familiarity she couldn’t place. Her grip on your face tightened slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s you…”

Your eyes flickered back to their normal gray, and your expression crumpled. The rage drained from you all at once, replaced by a deep, aching guilt. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice breaking. “I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t save Isha.”

Jinx stared at you, stunned by the vulnerability in your voice. Her hands slipped from your face, and before she could think better of it, she pulled you into a tight hug.

You stiffened in her arms, the gesture so unexpected it left you speechless. Jinx swallowed hard, her voice uncharacteristically soft as she whispered, “We’re gonna get her back. All of us. You hear me?”

You nodded against her shoulder, the faintest tremor in your movements. For once, you didn’t have a sarcastic comeback, just a quiet, shaky breath as the weight of her words settled over you.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Jinx tinkered with her weapons at her workbench, the steady clink and scrape of metal echoing in her lair. Across the room, you stood silently in front of Isha’s pillow fort, the light from her colored lamps casting a soft, almost melancholic glow over your face. Jinx watched you out of the corner of her eye, her hands slowing on the tools.

You leaned down, pulling off your long-sleeve shirt, revealing the toned muscles of your arms and back. Tattoos, intricate and vibrant, ran along your skin, telling stories of battles, losses, and survival. You stood in just a black muscle shirt, your chest rising and falling with deep, measured breaths as you stared at the fort.

“What did you mean?” you asked softly, breaking the silence.

Jinx looked up, confused. “Mean about what?”

“What you said out there. About it being me,” you clarified, your voice steady but low.

Jinx froze for a moment, her tools hovering mid-air. She opened her mouth to speak but hesitated, her mind flickering with flashes of a distant past. A kid. A memory she couldn’t fully grasp.

“It’s… nothing,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “Just… a feeling.”

You turned away from the fort and approached her workbench, your sharp eyes scanning the arsenal. She held out a rifle to you, but you waved it off with a small shake of your head. Instead, your attention fell on a set of knives, their blades painted with vivid, chaotic colors.

“These’ll do,” you muttered, grabbing them and securing them in your belt. You pulled a black bandana from your pocket and tied it around your neck, adjusting it to hide the tattoos along your throat.

You turned back to Jinx, your expression calm but determined. “Let’s go save the kid,” you said simply, your voice carrying a cool confidence that made her pause.

Jinx blinked, momentarily stunned by the weight of your words and the effortless power in your demeanor. She swallowed, trying to mask the strange feeling bubbling in her chest, but the voices in her head were already stirring.

“Look at her… she’s too strong for you.”

“You’re getting soft, Jinx. Don’t let her change you.”

“She’s doing it already—you feel it, don’t you?”

Jinx clenched her fists, her breathing quickening. She slammed her tools onto the bench, her knuckles whitening.

“Shut up,” she muttered under her breath, her eyes darting nervously.

“She’s not like the others.”

“You’re changing, Powder. And it’s because of her.”

The voices swirled, and for a moment, Jinx’s head throbbed with the chaos. Then, a new voice, softer and steadier, broke through the din.

“She’s helping you, Jinx. She’s pulling you back.”

Jinx’s eyes widened, and her breathing hitched. She looked up just as you paused at the door, your hand on the frame. You glanced back at her, your gray eyes calm but piercing.

“You ready?” you asked, your voice cutting through the noise in her head like a blade.

The voices fell silent, replaced by an eerie calm. Jinx blinked, her lips quirking into her usual smirk to hide the vulnerability that had threatened to surface. “You’re really bossy, y’know that?” she teased, grabbing her gear.

“Someone’s gotta keep you in line,” you shot back, your tone light but edged with sincerity.

Jinx chuckled as she moved to join you, her usual bravado settling back into place. “Let’s see if you can keep up,” she quipped, brushing past you.

Together, you descended the stairs, where Sevika was waiting with her arms crossed. Her mechanical arm whirred faintly as she raised an unimpressed brow at the two of you.

“Finally,” Sevika muttered, eyeing you both. “We’ve got a port waiting. Let’s move.”

The three of you headed out into the depths of the Undercity, weaving through the dark alleys and tunnels toward the transportation point. The faint hum of the city buzzed in the background, a stark contrast to the tense silence that hung between you all.

Jinx fell into step beside you, her teasing mask slipping just enough for a flicker of something softer to show through. You caught her glance but didn’t comment, the quiet resolve in your expression saying everything that needed to be said.

For the first time in a long time, Jinx felt a sliver of certainty—a steadying presence in the chaos. It was unnerving, but she couldn’t deny it. Something about you was different, and for the first time, she wasn’t sure if that scared her or gave her hope.

 ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

        Caitlyn sat on the floor of her quarters, surrounded by a sea of papers, record books, and scattered files. A glass of whiskey rested beside her, the amber liquid half-gone as she sipped distractedly. Her usually meticulous living room was in disarray, evidence of her relentless search for answers. The soft glow of a single lamp cast her shadow against the wall, and her tired eyes scanned through the faded ink of yet another report.

The door opened, and Vi stepped in. She paused at the sight before her, crossing her arms with a raised brow. “What the hell, Cupcake? Did a tornado hit in here, or are you just redecorating?”

Caitlyn barely looked up, her focus pinned on a file. “Vi,” she muttered, her voice weary, “I’m busy.”

Vi stepped further into the room, crouching beside the mess. “Yeah, I can see that. What’s all this about? You’re running yourself ragged. What’s got you so wound up?”

Caitlyn hesitated, setting the paper down and rubbing her temples. She didn’t want to admit it—not even to herself—but the weight on her chest was unbearable. “I… I can’t stop thinking about her,” she finally said, her voice trembling slightly.

Vi’s brows knit together. “Her?”

“Y/n,” Caitlyn whispered, the name laced with something deep, raw. She closed her eyes as the floodgates began to open. “There’s something about her, Vi. Something I can’t explain. From the moment I saw her…”

Vi leaned back, tilting her head. “Go on,” she urged gently.

Caitlyn opened her eyes, her gaze distant. “Her eyes,” she started, voice thick with emotion. “They’re like windows to a world I can’t even begin to fathom. They hold stories—pain, loss, strength—that I desperately want to know. When she looks at you, it’s like she’s offering you a piece of herself, but only just enough to make you crave the rest.”

Vi watched silently as Caitlyn poured out her heart, something she rarely did.

“And her smile,” Caitlyn continued, her lips quirking in a small, bittersweet way. “It’s not like anyone else’s. It’s small, fleeting, but it holds so much power. It’s… tranquil, almost. Like for a second, everything’s okay in the world when she lets it slip.”

She paused, her hands clenching. “Her body… it’s like a temple, Vi. Not just because of her strength or the tattoos that tell a story of their own, but because it’s been through so much. It’s endured battles—some you can see and some you can’t—and yet it stands tall. She stands tall.” Caitlyn’s voice grew softer. “I feel her on a deeper level, and I can’t explain it. It’s like we’re connected somehow, but it’s not enough. I can’t just let her go down this path. She deserves better. She is better.”

She let out a frustrated breath, leaning forward and cradling her head in her hands. “But I don’t know how to reach her. I don’t even know where she is.”

Vi let the silence hang for a moment before letting out a low whistle. “Damn, Cait,” she said, her tone softer than usual. “You’ve got it bad, huh?”

Caitlyn glanced up, frowning. “What?”

“This isn’t just some passing thing,” Vi said with a knowing smile. “This is love at first sight, Cupcake. You’re drawn to her, and you don’t even realize how deep it goes. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this before.”

Caitlyn shook her head, her cheeks flushing slightly. “It’s not love, Vi. I just… I care about her. I don’t want to see her get lost in this madness.”

Vi snorted. “Keep telling yourself that. But you know what? If you care about her this much, I’m in. Whatever you need, I’ll help you find her.”

Caitlyn blinked, a flicker of hope igniting in her chest. “Really?”

Vi nodded, her face growing serious. “Yeah. And I think I’ve got a lead. Someone told me they saw her at the rally. You know, the one with all the blue smoke and chaos.”

Caitlyn leaned forward, her heart racing. “She was there?”

“Yeah,” Vi said grimly. “And she already got her hands on Rictus.”

Caitlyn’s brows furrowed. “Rictus? The enforcer commander? Why would she go after him?”

Vi hesitated before continuing, her voice low. “There was a little girl with her. Word is, something went down—Rictus overstepped. Hurt the kid. And she… lost it.”

Caitlyn’s breath caught as she pieced the puzzle together. She frantically searched through her scattered papers, pulling out reports of the rally, witness statements, and a picture of the blue smoke marking the chaos.

“She snapped because of the child,” Caitlyn murmured, her voice shaking. “She wasn’t acting out of malice… she was protecting someone.”

Vi nodded. “That’s what it sounds like. But Cait, if she’s spiraling, we need to get to her fast. Before this gets worse.”

Caitlyn’s resolve hardened as she looked up at Vi, her sapphire eyes blazing with determination. “Then let’s find her. Together.”

Vi leaned against the doorframe of Caitlyn’s quarters, watching her frantically sift through the scattered papers. “Alright, we know she was at the rally, but where would she go after that? She’s not exactly subtle, Cait.”

Caitlyn stopped, pinching the bridge of her nose. “If Rictus got away, he’d want revenge. He’d know she wouldn’t just walk away quietly.” She paused, realization dawning on her. “What if she’s been taken?”

Vi frowned. “Taken where?”

“To Stillwater Hold,” Caitlyn said, her voice sharp with urgency. “If she’s been captured, they’d take her there for interrogation.”

Vi nodded, her expression serious. “Then we don’t have much time. Let’s go.”

Caitlyn didn’t wait. She threw on her enforcer uniform, clipped her rifle to her back, and stormed out of her quarters, Vi following closely behind.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

The chaos of the Stillwater break unfolded in a blur of fire and steel. Alarms blared through the corridors, and shouts echoed as Jinx, Sevika, and you tore through the facility to free Isha. After a fierce fight and tense moments, the little girl was finally in your hands.

Jinx grabbed Isha’s hand, tugging her toward the exit, but stopped when she noticed you lingering behind. “What are you doing?” Jinx hissed. “Take her and get out of here!”

You looked down at the child, then at Sevika, who stood at the edge of the chaos. Your gray eyes locked on Jinx, steady and unwavering. “Sevika can take her,” you said calmly.

Jinx’s jaw tightened. “Are you insane?”

Your lips twitched into a smirk as you glanced back at her. “You don’t need me running off. Someone has to make sure your ego doesn’t inflate too much from a dramatic last stand. Besides…” You stepped closer, voice low and teasing. “Dying alone is so cliché.”

Jinx blinked, her lips parting in surprise before a small, begrudging grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You’re a pain, you know that?”

“I’ve heard,” you said, turning back toward the sounds of heavy footsteps approaching.

The clash with Warwick was nothing short of brutal. The monstrous figure moved with terrifying speed and strength, overwhelming even the combined efforts of Jinx and you.

You moved like a blur, your knives a whirlwind of flashing steel. But Warwick’s sheer power knocked you back, slamming you against a wall. You groaned, dazed but refusing to stay down.

Jinx fired round after round, her explosive devices lighting up the darkened room, but Warwick was relentless. He swatted her weapon aside and lunged at her, pinning her against the wall. His massive claws hovered dangerously close to her throat.

Just as Jinx’s breath hitched, you slid beneath Warwick’s massive frame, your voice tearing through the room in an animalistic growl. “Get. Off. Her!”

Your gray eyes sparked with an otherworldly purple light, burning with an intensity that froze Warwick in place. He turned, his snarling mouth faltering as his glowing eyes locked onto yours.

“Spark…” he whispered, his voice guttural and filled with something almost human.

Jinx stiffened at the sound of the name, her eyes darting between Warwick and you.

The name struck you like a lightning bolt, sending a sharp pain through your head. Your vision blurred, and the purple light flickered before you collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

Jinx’s chest tightened as she stared at your unmoving form. Panic threatened to claw its way out of her throat, but she forced herself to act. “Damn it,” she muttered, crouching down and hauling you onto her shoulder.

She darted through the shadows, avoiding enforcers and other dangers as she dragged you to safety. Eventually, she found a small, abandoned safe house nestled in the rooftops.

Once inside, Jinx carefully laid you on a worn mattress. She sat beside you, panting and trembling as she looked over the wounds on your face and legs. Blood streaked your tattoos, the intricate designs disrupted by cuts and bruises. Jinx grabbed a damp cloth and began cleaning the wounds with surprising tenderness.

Her eyes traced over the tattoos that covered your arms and back. At first glance, they seemed like abstract patterns, but as Jinx looked closer, she realized they formed a map—a map of the Undercity. Her breath hitched at the realization. “What the hell…” she whispered.

Your face, despite the bruises, was peaceful in unconsciousness. Jinx’s fingers moved almost instinctively, brushing stray strands of hair away from your face.

The voices in her head returned, louder this time.

“Why are you even helping her? She’s nothing.”

“She’s everything, isn’t she? Look at her.”

“Shut up. You’re getting attached. You know what happens when you get attached.”

Jinx squeezed her eyes shut, her breathing unsteady. “Shut up, shut up, shut up…”

The softer voice returned, calm and steady. “She’s changing you. She’s helping you.”

Jinx opened her eyes, her trembling hand tracing along your jawline. The voices quieted, leaving her in a strange, almost serene silence. Her fingers moved mindlessly, tracing your features as if committing them to memory.

Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Who are you?”

Your chest rose and fell with each steady breath, offering no answer.

Jinx sighed, pulling her hand back and leaning against the wall. She glanced at the knives you had insisted on carrying, their colorful blades gleaming faintly in the dim light.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Jinx felt… calm. But that calm brought with it a vulnerability she didn’t know how to handle.

“You’re gonna make me soft,” she muttered, her lips twitching into a faint, rueful smile as she continued to keep watch.

Jinx left you reluctantly, her expression a mixture of determination and hesitation as she glanced at your unconscious form one last time. She had to deal with Warwick and get Isha to safety, but this wasn’t over. There was someone else who needed to see what Vander had become. Someone who would understand. She’d find Vi, and they’d confront this together.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

A day later, you found yourself limping through the polished streets of Piltover, your body aching from the fight, your mind clouded by exhaustion and anger. You weren’t sure why you came back to the family workshop—maybe to grab a few tools, maybe just out of habit—but the sight of the place brought a sinking feeling to your gut.

The bell above the door jingled as you stepped inside, hoping to slip in and out unnoticed. The familiar hum of machines filled the space, the smell of metal and oil hitting you like a punch to the chest.

But luck wasn’t on your side.

“Well, look who it is,” your father’s voice boomed from across the room, dripping with disdain. You froze mid-step, turning to see both of your parents standing behind the counter.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face here,” your mother added, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her expression was cold, the kind of look that had cut you to the core since you were a child.

“I just need a few things,” you muttered, keeping your gaze on the floor as you limped toward the shelves.

“Oh, no. You don’t get to stroll in here like nothing happened,” your father barked, stepping out from behind the counter. “You’re a disgrace. A failure. Everything we warned you about came true. The Undercity turned you into a monster.”

Your hands clenched into fists as you tried to tune them out. But their words kept coming, sharp and relentless.

“You’ve always been a disappointment,” your mother hissed. “We gave you everything, and this is how you repay us? Running off to the filth down below? You don’t even belong—”

“Stop it,” you snapped, your voice low but trembling with barely contained fury.

“You don’t even belong to us!” your father spat suddenly, his words slamming into you like a physical blow. “You’re not even our blood.”

The room spun. Your vision blurred, and a sharp, familiar pain erupted behind your eyes. The purple spark flickered in your irises, your breathing heavy and uneven.

“What did you just say?” you asked, your voice cold and trembling.

Before you could do something you might regret, warm arms wrapped around you tightly, grounding you in place. The scent of lilac and gunpowder filled your senses, and you instantly knew who it was.

Caitlyn.

Her presence melted the rage inside you, and you let yourself sag against her, burying your face in her shoulder. You hugged her back, gripping her as if she might disappear.

“Are you okay?” Caitlyn whispered, her hands moving to your face to tilt it up toward her. Her blue eyes searched yours, full of worry and something deeper.

You nodded but avoided her gaze, your voice quiet. “I’m fine.” You didn’t trust yourself to say more, didn’t trust yourself to let her in.

Your parents stormed out of the workshop, still spewing venom. “You don’t deserve someone like her!” your mother yelled. “She doesn’t even know what you are!”

Caitlyn stepped between you and your parents, her head held high. Her voice was calm but laced with authority. “I suggest you stop talking.”

They froze at her tone.

“You might think you know her, but you clearly don’t,” Caitlyn said, her voice icy and cutting. “She’s worth more than you’ll ever realize. And if you dare speak to her like this again, you’ll be dealing with me—and the enforcers.”

The sight of the enforcers behind Caitlyn was enough to send your parents retreating inside without another word. Caitlyn turned back to you, her hand gently wrapping around your wrist. “Come on,” she said softly.

Instead of letting her lead you to her quarters, you took her to the rooftop where you often found solace. You stood there silently as you changed, pulling on a clean shirt and adjusting your knives. Caitlyn stood in the corner, watching you with a mix of admiration and worry.

The tension in the air was palpable.

When you turned to her, Caitlyn stepped forward and held you close, her arms wrapping around you with a softness that made your breath hitch. For a moment, neither of you moved. The proximity, the heat of her body against yours—it was overwhelming.

Caitlyn pulled back slightly, her face inches from yours. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but instead, her eyes lingered on yours. The tension between you grew unbearable, and for a split second, you thought she might kiss you.

But you pulled back, the memory of Jinx flashing across your mind. You couldn’t explain it, but it was enough to make you take a step away.

Caitlyn’s face fell, but she recovered quickly. “I need you to stay,” she said, her voice trembling with urgency. “With me. You don’t have to do this alone.”

You shook your head. “I can’t. I need to leave. This place—it’s suffocating.”

She grabbed your arm, her grip firm but gentle. “You’re better than this,” she pleaded. “You’re good, even if you don’t see it. You have a choice.”

You snapped, her words cutting deeper than they should have. “Good? Piltover treats the Undercity like dirt. You talk about being better, but look around, Caitlyn. This city isn’t better—it’s rotten. Just like the people who run it.”

She stepped back, stunned. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s the truth,” you shot back.

Caitlyn’s voice rose, the hurt evident. “You don’t belong there, but you don’t belong here, either. You’re an outsider, and you know it!”

Her words sliced through you. Your face twisted in pain before you pulled away from her grasp. “I thought you were different,” you said coldly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But you’re just like everyone else.”

Caitlyn’s hand reached for yours, but you yanked it away, your heart aching as you turned and walked into the night, leaving her standing there with regret and sorrow etched across her face.

_______________

Aht aht ! Its slight AU, let me cook im marinating the chicken right now- it will all come together (I was so invested writing this and it is everywhere but you all gon see what im seeing once it start cooking- im talking about sizzling with the spices then you gonna look at me like 'ahhhhh i smell it- i see it') so sit there and look pretty while i cook this up <3

[mike-milkyway]

You see, Luzosan works despite the fact that we can all agree that both Zoro and Sanji are definitely a very exclusive with who they're dating. Zoro in the first place isn't the one with the most intrest in dating anyone, then we have Sanji who stopped being girl crazy when it came to getting married with Pudding (even when he didn't want to).

If they were to date each other i assume it would be something very close knit, but when it comes to Luffy it's a whole new story.

Luffy somehow tamed the wild animal that was Zoro, he wouldn't let just anyone be his captain, but it's different with him, they promised to each other that they'd reach their dreams together. Remember the last time Zoro made a promise like that with someone?

Luffy literally went dressed in RED (look up the meaning) to crash Sanji's arranged marriage, and to beat up Big Mom's crew in order to save Sanji princess-peach style. Sanji is a cook with a big respect for food, all for his captain to be the hungriest man in the grand line?

We can say whatever about Zoro and Sanji being gay to each other, but it's very obvious that they're both gayer for Luffy. These two deserve each other because there's no one else in the four blues that'd be ok dating someone so obsessed with their captain without feeling jealous. They understand each other's infatuation with Luffy because they're both DOWN ILL for that autistic pirate boy.

The wings of the king of the pirates? More like the wives of the king of the pirates.

[hunter470]

My 9-1-1 RANT

Ok, I don’t normally do these types of posts, but I can’t move on until I get some things out. These are just my thoughts about the latest episodes of 9-1-1 as well as overall comments on the Buck/Tommy relationship. These opinions are mine and are based on the countless hours of TV I’ve watched in my 54 years on this planet, as well as my knowledge of writing and how Hollywood operates. I’m not confirming that any of this is true or are the real intentions of anyone involved with the show. Just my opinions. So, you can agree with me or not. I’m not trying to persuade anyone in any way. Also, I’m not going to get into endless arguments about my opinions but feel free to comment if you want, I just don’t promise I’ll reply. 

Ok, here we go. Sorry it’s so long. Like I said earlier, I just needed to get it out. So many wasted opportunities.

If you think TM cares what the fans want, you’re seriously kidding yourself. If he did, Buddie would have been canon a long time ago. The only thing he cares about is ratings and his vision for the show, which can change at a moment’s notice with no rhyme or reason as we’ve seen. 

Although I loved Buck and Tommy together, I knew the show wouldn’t do their story justice. So, no matter what TM or OS have said, the bi story was only to garner publicity, draw in new viewers, and increase ratings especially with the show moving to a new network. There was no altruistic reason behind it so don’t kid yourself. They knew there was an audience for the story because of all the Buddie shippers. Just remember, it’s called show business, not show friends for a reason.

Do you think OS really cares about bi representation? Based on his latest comments and non-apology it’s obvious he only cares about getting the stories that garner him the most screen time and press. Seriously, read his latest interviews. He’s excited to get to have fun now. So, congrats OS, Buck gets to F around. Just shows how most, if not all, actors are ego driven no matter what they say. Sorry not sorry.

TM has commented that he doesn’t owe anyone anything. In fact, I recall him saying to Buddie fans if they don’t like it, read fanfiction. If that didn’t clue you in, then you weren’t reading the room. Kinda reminds me of another show runner…for those who watched H50 you know who I’m talking about. That’s why I don’t get heavily invested in these shows. I’ll watch but I never expect anything I like to last…especially if it has to do with gay relationships.

It says a lot that the show remained completely silent about the bullying and death threats Lou received just for playing a role he was happy to play. Again, they really didn’t care because they knew he wasn’t going to be there after episode six. What a great message for all the bullies…just keep bullying and you’ll get what you want. 

Again, reread OS’s interviews. He was doing the Hollywood double speak. Says just enough to keep you hooked with hope to get you to watch even when he knew all along it wasn’t lasting. It really was as clear as day if you go back and read what he said. 

Also, if you thought Buck was going to get into a meaningful long-term relationship, then you didn’t watch the video from the You Tuber “Call Me Chato” that TM posted on his Facebook. The video was all about characters and how they should always stay fundamentally the same with minimal development - I’m paraphrasing. However, Buck is the golden retriever, heart so big it gets broken, character who will remain on a hamster wheel and unlucky in love because that’s who he is. If he changes too much it shifts the dynamic, which only happens if the show was ending. 

If you thought the writers would do justice to a bisexual story, then you haven’t been watching the show closely. There’s been minimal Buck/Tommy relationship development on screen. Taylor got more. Viewers were lucky to get crumbs in the limited screen time Buck and Tommy got. Then, a breakup out of left field? One minute Buck is saying Tommy is it for him and he wants him to move in, and then it’s over? If he truly felt deeply for Tommy, why not fight to keep him? Why give up so easily and let him walk away? What’s the point? Also, to end it on a terrible stereotype is yet another clue. Horrible writing and another sign that TM and OS had zero investment in the relationship. The whole break up was rushed and made no sense. Essentially, it was just used to draw people in and to get Buck single and sleeping around again because that’s who he is. I for one won’t care for any of Buck’s future relationships. I mean, why would I when they never last. 

Also, writers that give you a 66-year-old police sergeant and a 10 y/o boy landing a heavily damaged plane on an active freeway in LA with no prior training, and sorry playing video game flight simulators is not training, is some Sharknado level writing, which is not a compliment. Oh, and that whole story was truly the shows “jumping the shark” moment. If you don’t know what the term “jumping the shark” means, look it up and try to tell me I’m wrong. 

Not having Tommy involved in the three part premier episodes, other than a few minutes at a birthday party, was so obvious as to the show’s intent. I mean, the fake captain from Hotshots got more screen time. 

They claim they wanted someone for Buck that was connected to him and the 118 and then you don’t use the character at all. You wanted Buck off the hamster wheel? What a crock! Such a wasted opportunity.

Since it’s been confirmed episode 6 was filmed before 5, Tim’s just playing god with peoples’ feelings and crushing their hearts at this point. I mean, how do you have such a great episode (5) and a wonderful speech by Josh (6) just to break them up? Plus, having Tommy break up after six months? That man was all in, which was obvious in episode 5.

Guess it shouldn’t be a surprise that’s how TM would handle things after that horrible Tarlos breakup. At least on Lone Star we knew Rafa (Carlos) was a main cast member so there was hope. Lou was a guest star so it seems kinda final based on his interviews. Again, what was the point? They could have had Buck's bi revelation be with a random character. So, building up the Buck/Tommy relationship just to take it away was to inflict the most pain. Good job. 

Do I think the show will make Buddie canon? Who knows…one thing I do know is I wouldn’t trust them if they did. Also, even if Tommy somehow returns, I don’t trust TM with anything related to this story. Sure, hope he’s happy with ruining the show for so many people. Again, like another show runner I mentioned in item 4 above. Honestly, I can’t believe the Buddie fans have stayed for so long. That’s commitment, I guess. 

Do I think Lou should go back to 9-1-1? Hell no! He was screwed over by both TM and OS. Prove it to me otherwise. However, it’s up to him and of course, he loves acting so I wouldn’t blame him.

Finally, even though I’ve watched the show since the beginning, it no longer brings me joy. There are too many other TV shows to stick with one I no longer enjoy. So yes, I’m announcing my departure, and I don’t give an F what OS, you, or anyone else thinks about it. Not that any of this matters any way…

[muwapsturniolo]

𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑳𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝑩𝒂𝒃𝒆 💫 Nick sturniolo (m! reader)

"i-i made a mistake, please, please just..."

✘ angst, i can't lie i had trouble writing this so I'm sorry that it isn't that good😭 i promise i will do nick justice next time, angst isn't my strongest genre.

It's dark in the bedroom, the only light being the moonbeams cascading down and illuminating a figure sitting on the edge of the bed.

He couldn't sleep, his mind toying with him and replaying his happiest moments that he took for granted and ruined - He felt guilty.

A soft shuffling is heard, his whole body tensing and his throat constricting. He slowly turns his head, his eyes landing on his sleeping wife.

She was a beautiful girl, she had a good heart and tended to forgive people too easily....and yet he found himself hating her

He knew it was wrong, the girl never did anything to harm him or make his life a living hell - He did that all on his own.

He was the reason he hates his life, not the woman he calls his wife.

He clenches his fists and faces forward, his eyes beginning to burn from the salty tears forming. He closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath, his hands coming to his face as he rests his elbows on his knees.

"God, what is wrong with me..." He questions himself softly, the tears now running down his face.

He knew if anyone saw him they would think he was pathetic.

What kind of man sits on the edge of his bed in the middle of the night, head in hands as he cries next to his wife, all because he wishes he was with a boy?

A silent sob escapes his mouth as he recalls all the memories with him.

The day they met, the first time they hung out, the first time they got drunk, their first kiss, the endless nights of fooling around - He missed it, he craved it.

He couldn't believe he gave that all up to be nothing more than a husband in a picture-perfect American family.

He could hear Nick's voice as he replayed that day in his head.

"You can go and kiss 100 fucking girls Y/n, you can drink all you want and try to forget the feelings you have for me, but that doesn't erase the fact that you're gay!"

"I'm not gay Nick! I don't have feelings for you! This was a mistake o-A mistake? A mistake is spilling your coffee on your shirt when you're in a rush, not telling me you only want me to call you baby as your dick is shoved down my throat!"

The two males stare at each other, their breathing harsh as they try to come to terms with the end of their beginning.

Y/n sighs and allows his body to relax, "Nick...I'm sorry, ok? I-I...I'm sorry."

"Yeah well when you wake up regretting this choice, just know I told you so."

I told you so...

He was right.

He regrets everything.

His gold band glimmers softly in the moonlight, a reminder that he’s bound to a marriage that he doesn't even want.

He couldn't take it anymore

Without a second thought, he rips the band off, setting it on the nightstand and jumping up. He’s quick to change out of his pajamas, stumbling out of the house as he makes his way to the car.

His heart thumps loudly in his ears, his breathing erratic as he swings out of the driveway, heading towards his destination.

It wasn't long before he arrived at the infamous bar "Pink Cadillac." It was mainly known for being an LGBT+ bar, a place where people of different genders and sexualities could be with their own, and feel safe.

He hadn't stepped foot in this bar since that night, attempting to erase all the memories and a part of himself.

he sits in the car with sweaty palms, staring up at the neon sign as he debates going in.

he knew it was too late to back out, he already left her and his ring at home - He didn't have a choice anymore.

He climbs out of the car and slowly makes his way inside, the interior of the bar starting to look and feel familiar. He finds himself smiling as he sees pictures plastered on the wall from 7 years ago, recognizing the faces of his old acquaintances. He stops when he comes across a picture of him and Nick, the two of them smiling as they were crowned the kings of the "Pink Cadillac Prom".

He remembers that night as if it was yesterday, but he doesn't have enough time to dive into his memories due to someone approaching him.

"Look at what the cat dragged in! Long time no see Y/n"

He turns around and smiles softly seeing the familiar face of Damon. he was dressed up, makeup covering his face and his neon green wig laid to perfection.

"Damon...hey," Damon gives him a quick up and down before crossing his arms. "Didn't think I would see your face here ever again after that night..."

The smile on Y/n's face falters, his eyes now cast downward as he feels an ache in his chest. Damon sighs and drops his arms, pulling Y/n towards the bar.

"Whiskey coke?"

Y/n chuckles dryly, nodding his head as he sits at the bar. Damon whips up the drink before sliding it over to the male, Y/n taking a long sip before sighing. The two sit and talk, catching up on the years of missed events and laughing with each other over old memories.

It wasn't long before Damon finally questioned him, "What are you doing here Y/n?"

"I...I need to see Nick..."

Damon sighs and places his hands on the bar, "Y/n I don't think that's a good idea.... It was 7 years ago, you need to forget it, you're married!" Y/n shakes his head, refusing to give up.

"I-I'm not married anymore."

A lie.

A big fat lie.

He was still married to her, but he planned to get a divorce after tonight.

"I-Is Nick here?"

Damon stares at him for a moment before nodding, "he is, but Y/n I don't think you sh-Where is he?" Y/n cuts him off, eager to see his long-lost lover. He notices the tense look on Damon's face and finds himself begging.

"Damon, please... I messed up, I-I need to apologize and tell him I'm sorry.”

“He’s on the patio…”

Y/n has never moved so fast in his life, maneuvering through the bodies of dancing couples and heading straight towards the patio exit.

He makes it outside, his eyes darting around before they land on him,

Nick.

It was like a scene out of a movie, the fluorescent lights shining on Nick's face as he laughed loudly with his friends, unaware of the person walking up to him and prepared to spill their heart out.

"so I told hi-Nick?"

The shorter boy whips around at the familiar voice, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?"

he goes to answer but stops seeing Nick's friends looking at him, "Can we talk...In privet?"

Nick scoffs and sets his drink down, "No, I don't want to talk to yo-Nick please...?" Nick stares at him for a moment before sighing and standing up from the table. He walks off, motioning for Y/n to follow.

The two boys stand off to the side of the patio, hidden from the curious eyes and in their own world.

"Speak, what did you want to talk about?"

Nick's dismissive tone was expected, Y/n had hurt him. However, Y/n couldn't help but be hurt himself.

"I... I miss you."

Nick chuckles and shakes his head, " Nick please! Just hear me out! I'm sorry ok? I fucked up, I fucked up big time, I know that. I-I hurt you and I'm so so sorry."

Nick can see how distraught the man is, the bags under his eyes evident and the tone of his voice proving such, but Nick doesn't feel bad at all.

He felt smug.

He knew Y/n would come crawling back, claiming he was sorry and crying because he knew he was lying to everyone and himself when he claimed he was straight and getting married to a girl.

"I hate to say it, but I told you so," Nick states, his arms crossed right across his chest. Y/n couldn't even be mad at the words thrown in his face, he knew Nick was right.

"I-I know. You were right, you are right. I-I was struggling Nick, I-I'm-" He struggles to find the right words to express his feelings and thoughts.

"I'm sorry...What we had wasn't a mistake. I did - No I do, have feelings for you. I was just scared Nick, it was one thing to be gay in private with our friends here, but it was another for me to be gay in public, and I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry for being a coward and lying to you and myself-" Y/n moves closer toward Nick, slowly trapping him between his chest and the pink-painted bricks of the club.

"-B-but I can handle it now, I-I want to try again...I want to try us again." Nick begins to look uncomfortable, the words and closeness of Y/n being too much. Nick gently pushes him away, his mouth dry as he tries to speak.

"Y/n...."

The taller male could already feel the tears forming in his eyes, he knew by the way Nick pushed him back and said his name that he was being turned down. He shakes his head, pleading softly with Nick as he holds his arms tightly.

"Nick please"

"Y/n let go..."

"Please just give me a chance!"

"Let go!"

"I-I made a mistake, I just-"

"I'M ENGAGED !"

Silence stands between the two, Nick looking away awkwardly as Y/n feels the bile rise in his throat. He's lying, he has to be lying. There's no way he was engaged...Right?

"W-what?"

Nick holds up his hand, "I'm engaged Y/n.... "

he looks at the shiny diamond ring, the ring reminding him of the one currently on his nightstand.

"D-don't say that...D-don't marry him, please!"

Now Nick was angry.

How dare Y/n show up and expect him to forgive him right away and live happily ever after. How dare he demand that he not go through with the marriage.

"That's rich coming from you! You're a fucking hypocrite Y/n, you left me to get married to a girl! A girl! Now you're telling me not to get married to the person who helped put me back together after you broke me?! Fuck you!"

"I'm not married to he- I don't fucking care Y/n!" Nick shouts. He sighs and removes his glasses, rubbing over his face in annoyance.

"Look... I'm happy now Y/n, I actually love myself now to not keep up with your bullshit. You coming here was a mistake....Go home."

Y/n swallows harshly as Nick's words hit him harshly.

He was right once again, this was a mistake.

"I-I...should go...Sorry for bothering you...'' He whispers softly, slowly backing up before turning around and starting to walk away. Nick's voice calling out for him makes him stop, hope filling in his chest.

"I'm glad you finally stopped lying to yourself...I hope you find the love you deserve...Good luck, babe."

Y/n smiles faintly despite feeling like shit. With a heavy heart, he leaves the bar, his whole body feeling numb as he drives back home.

He silently walks through the door and throws his keys back in the bowl, dragging his feet against the carpet as he enters the bedroom.

She's still sleeping.

He strips himself of his clothes and slides the gold band back on his finger. As he climbs into the bed, she awakens, her eyes fluttering open softly.

"Babe? Where did you go?" She questions.

"Needed some water...Sorry for waking you." He lies effortlessly. She hums and curls into his body, missing the grimace on his face due to the darkness of the bedroom.

"I love you," she mutters as she begins to go back to sleep.

"Yeah...Love you too...."

Another lie.

[winwintea]

paranoia

PAIRING ↬ boyfriend!huang renjun x fem!reader (feat. ning yizhuo)

TAGS ↬ horror, romance, thriller, suspense, jeno is a ghost, serial killers!! and of course gay witches

WARNINGS ↬ horror, murder!!!, taxidermy (basically like convert someone into a doll), creepy dolls, ghosts, zombified people descriptions, character death !!!

SUMMARY ↬ nightmares to reality. devotion to madness. can you tell what's real and what's fake? who's the true monster in the end?

WORD COUNT ↬ 5.2k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ ummmmmmmmmmm. i can't explain this one it came to me in a car ride. drive safe y'all don't learn from me ok. title is from the cunty kang daniel song, this fic was very very music inspired, so check out all the songs listed if you'd like. pookie bae @polarisjisung beta read for me she my ride or die actually zhong chenle you're getting demoted (he was demoted ages ago)

PLAYLIST ↬ bones - taemin; paranoia - kang daniel; zombie - everglow; good girls in the dark - yena

THE COLD METAL BITES INTO YOUR SKIN,

sending a shiver up your spine as you regain consciousness. The lights flicker on and off, dimming the room. You blink, trying to make sense of your surroundings, but the room feels unfamiliar. You’ve never been here before.

Leather straps pin your wrists and ankles to the table, the edges digging into your flesh as you struggle against them. Panic surges through you as the smell of antiseptic and iron fills your nose.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

Renjun’s voice is soft, almost melodic, as he steps into view. His face is bathed in the sickly yellow light from the bulb. He looks calm, almost unreadable, but his eyes seem to gleam with something dangerous. In one hand, he holds a scalpel. In the other, he cradles a small, intricately carved porcelain doll, its lifeless glass eyes staring into yours.

“Renjun,” you gasp, your voice trembling, “what are you doing? Let me go!”

He tilts his head slightly, as though considering your words. “You don’t understand,” he murmurs, his tone almost apologetic. “You’re so close to perfection. So close to being what I always knew you could be.”

The words send a chill through you. “What are you talking about? Renjun, this isn’t you! Please, you’re scaring me!”

His lips form a sad smile, but his hands remain steady as he sets the doll down on a nearby tray. The tray rattles softly, revealing more tools—scissors, needles, thread, and vials of strange liquids.

“I know you’re scared,” he says, stepping closer. “But this is for your own good. For our good. I’m going to make sure you’re... safe. Perfect.”

You thrash against the straps, desperate to break free, but they hold firm. “Renjun, stop! Whatever you’re planning, you don’t have to do this! Please, just let me go!”

His expression darkens, and for a moment, his hand hesitates. “I wish you wouldn’t struggle,” he whispers, leaning in close. You can feel his breath against your cheek, warm and steady, a cruel contrast to your racing heart. “It’ll only hurt more if you do.”

He raises the scalpel, the blade catching the dim light. It trembles slightly in his grip as though he’s fighting some internal battle. You try to scream, but the sound only echoes.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promises, his voice breaking slightly. “You won’t feel a thing, I swear.”

Tears blur your vision as you see the blade descending, inching closer to your arm. Every nerve in your body screams for escape, for salvation, but the straps hold you immobile.

“Renjun, please—”

The scalpel presses against your skin, the cold, sharp edge biting lightly—

You wake with a strangled cry. Sweat clings to your skin, and the room around you is dark and silent. Your hands tremble as you clutch the sheets, trying to ground yourself, but the phantom sensation of the blade lingers, your skin prickling where it had hovered in the dream.

Fuck.

Turning your head, you reach out instinctively to the other side of the bed… but it’s empty. Renjun’s side is cold, the covers are neatly arranged.

“Renjun?” you call softly, your voice hoarse.

Silence.

You shake your head, trying to push away the lingering dread. He must have gotten up early. Maybe he’s in the kitchen or the bathroom. You force yourself to lie back down, but your heart refuses to slow. The dream continues to play at the back of your mind

Eventually you get up and head for the kitchen. You don’t see Renjun anywhere, so you assume he’s out. But it doesn’t cease your worries. 

You hum softly to yourself as you pour batter into a pan, the comforting sizzle of pancakes mingling with the aroma of fresh coffee. For a moment, the night’s haunting dream feels like a distant memory.

But then, a new smell hits you—a sharp, metallic tang that cuts through the warmth of breakfast like a knife. It smells like blood almost…? You wrinkle your nose and glance toward the stove, assuming something might be burning.

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor freezes you mid-motion.

You turn slowly, spatula clutched tightly in your hand, and nearly drop it when your eyes land on the figure seated at the table.

“Yizhuo?” The name escapes your lips in a whisper, barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

She sits perfectly still, her head tilted slightly as she watches you. Her once-lively features are now sunken and pale, a sickly greenish tint spreading across her skin. Her hair hangs in limp, tangled strands around her shoulders, and her clothes are torn and stained with dark, crusted blotches.

Most unsettling are her eyes, clouded and milky, yet piercing. They lock onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Good morning,” she says softly, looking at you expectantly.

You stagger back, pressing yourself against the counter. “This… This isn’t real,” you stammer. “You… You’ve been missing for weeks. You—”

“I’m dead.” Her cracked lips curve into a faint smile. “Or at least, I should be.”

The words hang heavy in the air. Your knees threaten to buckle, but you cling to the counter for support, the spatula still trembling in your grip.

“What… What’s going on? How are you here?” you demand, your voice breaking.

Yizhuo leans forward slightly, her movements slow and deliberate. “I came to warn you.”

“Warn me?” Your pulse quickens, your thoughts spinning. “Warn me about what?”

“Renjun,” she says, her tone hardening. Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, her frail demeanor is overshadowed by something fierce. “Your little boyfriend. He’s dangerous. You need to leave him before it’s too late.”

You shake your head, trying to process her words. “Renjun? No, that’s not possible. He wouldn’t—he couldn’t—”

She cuts you off with a dry laugh, “That’s what I thought too. But look at me now.” She gestures to herself, her decayed hands trembling as she does. “He took me. He experimented on me. He killed me.”

The room seems to spin as her words sink in. “No,” you whisper, more to yourself than to her. “That can’t be true. He—he loves me.”

"So much he’ll destroy you." she says, her voice filled with pity. "He’s obsessed with control, with perfection. He sees you as… as something to be fixed, something to be preserved.”

Your throat tightens. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I don’t want the same thing to happen to you,” Yizhuo replies, her expression grim. She leans in closer, her scent—a nauseating blend of rot and chemicals—assaulting your senses. “He’s planning to do the same to you. I overheard him. You need to run. Now.”

The words strike like a thunderclap, but you can’t move, can’t speak. Yizhuo’s cloudy eyes search yours, pleading.

“You don’t have much time,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Get out before it’s too late.”

Before you can respond, she rises from the chair, her movements stiff and unnatural. She glances back at you one last time, her expression a mix of sorrow and urgency. Then, without another word, she walks out of the kitchen, her footsteps silent.

You’re left standing there, the spatula still in your hand, the pancakes burning on the stove behind you.

Before you can make sense of anything, the front door clicks open again.

“Morning,” Renjun’s familiar voice calls out. The sound startles you, and you spin around, heart still racing.

He steps into the kitchen, his hair slightly tousled from the cold morning air. He looks every bit like the Renjun you know: calm, collected, and effortlessly handsome in his cozy sweater and jeans. A faint smile touches his lips as he sees you, though his brows knit together at your pale face.

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he says lightly, stepping closer.

You swallow hard, your mind screaming at you to say something about Yizhuo, but the sight of him steadies your nerves just enough to keep the words locked up in your throat.

“I—I had a bad dream,” you finally stammer. “And you weren’t in bed. Where did you go?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I couldn’t sleep. The air felt stuffy, so I went out for a walk to clear my head.” He gestures toward the front door. “It’s freezing out there, by the way. You’re lucky you stayed in.”

You blink at him, searching his face for any signs of deception, but he looks so... ordinary. So sincere.

“You should’ve told me,” you murmur, voice tinged with worry.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he replies softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

The tenderness in his gesture makes your chest ache.

“It wasn’t just the walk,” you admit, your voice shaky. “The dream I had… It was awful. You—you were doing something horrible to me. It felt so real, Renjun.”

His eyes widen slightly, then soften with concern. “Hey,” he murmurs, pulling you into his arms. His embrace is warm, firm, and familiar. “It was just a dream. Nothing more, okay? I would never hurt you.”

You hesitate, the memory of Yizhuo’s eyes and voice flashing through your mind again. But Renjun’s voice is so steady, so reassuring.

“I know,” you whisper, leaning into him. “It just felt so vivid. Like it wasn’t just a dream...”

He pulls back slightly to meet your eyes, his hands still resting on your arms. “Dreams can mess with your head,” he says gently. “Especially when you’re stressed or overtired. You’ve been working too hard lately.”

“I guess,” you mumble.

“Come here.” He leads you to the table, where the two of you sit down. “Forget about breakfast for a bit. Just breathe, okay? I’m here now.”

You nod, allowing yourself to relax. Renjun’s presence feels grounding, and for a moment, the lingering dread from the morning fades.

Still, the faint smell of something metallic lingers in the air, and you can’t help but glance at the chair Yizhuo had been sitting in. It’s empty now, no sign of her ever being there.

Renjun follows your gaze. “You okay?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Yeah,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”

And for the rest of the morning, everything feels normal again. Renjun jokes with you as he helps clean up the kitchen, his laughter filling the space and making it feel warm and alive. By the time he heads to the bathroom to shower, you’ve almost convinced yourself that Yizhuo’s appearance had been nothing more than a vivid hallucination.

It wasn’t real, you tell yourself for the hundredth time. It couldn’t have been.

Stress. Fatigue. That’s all it was. It has to be.

Still, the unease gnaws at you as the day drags on. Renjun spends most of the afternoon in his study, working on something he vaguely describes as “art.” You don’t press him—he’s always been private about his projects, and it’s not unusual for him to disappear for hours into his world of creativity. He’s shown you some portraits he’s done. That alone was enough to convince you then, but maybe not now.

As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, you decide you need some air.

The backyard feels oddly silent as you step outside, the chill of the evening biting at your skin. The garden Renjun painstakingly tends to is perfectly cared for, each flower bed neat and orderly. But something feels... off. You can’t place it at first, but the further you walk, the heavier the air feels.

And then you see her.

A figure sits near the edge of the garden, half-hidden by the shadows of the trees. At first, you think it’s a trick of the fading light, but as you approach, your stomach turns.

Her head lifts slowly as she senses your presence. Her skin is mottled and patchy, as though poorly stitched together, and her hair hangs in brittle, uneven clumps. One of her eyes is glassy and lifeless, while the other stares at you with unsettling clarity.

“Hello,” she says, her voice low and raspy.

Your instincts scream at you to run, but your feet remain rooted to the spot. “Hi,” you manage to reply, your voice barely audible.

“You’re his new girlfriend, aren’t you?” she asks, tilting her head.

You swallow hard. “What do you mean?”

She chuckles softly, the sound more hollow than amused. “He always picks the pretty ones. Says they’re easier to perfect.”

The words send a chill racing through you. “You know Renjun?”

“Better than I’d like,” she replies, leaning forward slightly. Her movements are stiff, as though her body doesn’t quite obey her. 

Your chest tightens. “What happened?”

She lets out a bitter laugh. “What always happens. He gets bored, or paranoid, or both. Decides you need fixing. Then you end up like me.” She gestures to herself, her fingers trembling. “A mistake he doesn’t know how to get rid of.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “You’re one of his... experiments?”

“Guess you could call it that.” Her eye narrows, and for a moment, you swear you see a flicker of pity in her expression. “But you don’t have to end up like me. You still have a chance to get out.”

Your mind races, every fiber of your being screaming that this can’t be true. But the evidence sits right in front of you, her broken body a chilling testament to something you don’t want to believe.

“I... I don’t understand,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“You will,” she says simply, her tone heavy with finality. “Just don’t wait too long. He doesn’t like it when his plans get interrupted.”

Before you can respond, she struggles to her feet, her movements jerky and unnatural. She stumbles into the trees, disappearing into the shadows before you can even think to follow.

You stand there for what feels like an eternity, your heart pounding in your chest. When you finally gather the courage to move, you hurry back into the house, locking the door behind you.

Renjun finds you later that evening, curled up on the couch with a book you haven’t read a single word of. “You okay?” he asks, sitting down beside you.

You force a smile, shaking your head. “Just tired,” you reply, your voice strained.

He presses a soft kiss to your temple, and though his touch is warm, it does little to chase away the cold dread that has settled deep in your bones.

You say nothing about the woman in the garden.

The days that follow are a blur of unease and doubt. Renjun grows more distant, his once-gentle demeanor laced with a nervous edge. You catch him watching you when he thinks you’re not looking, his eyes dark and searching, as though trying to read your thoughts.

You tell yourself it’s nothing—just paranoia creeping in after Yizhuo and the woman in the garden. But the house feels different now, like something unseen is watching, waiting.

One night, unable to sleep, you wander through the house, your footsteps muffled against the hardwood floors. Renjun had disappeared into his study hours ago, and you haven’t seen him since. Curiosity gnaws at you, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you find yourself standing at the door to the basement.

It’s unlocked.

The air grows colder as you descend the narrow stairs, the faint scent of mothballs and chemicals prickling your nose. 

Your breath catches as you reach the bottom. The room is cluttered with tools and shelves of strange, unrecognizable objects, but your eyes are drawn to the center of the room where a series of lifelike dolls are displayed.

At least, you think they’re dolls at first.

They’re posed on stands, dressed in fine clothing, their glassy eyes staring blankly into the room. But as you move closer, your stomach churns. Their skin isn’t porcelain—it’s something else. Something real. 

Your fingers tremble as you reach out to touch one of them but stop short when a voice behind you speaks.

“You shouldn’t be down here.”

You whirl around, heart racing, to find a young man leaning against the far wall. His hair is dark and neatly styled, his posture relaxed, but there’s something unsettling about the way he looks at you.

“Who are you?” you demand, backing away slightly.

“Jeno,” he says casually, pushing off the wall and taking a step closer. “Nice to meet you.”

You glance at the stairs, calculating your chances of escape, but something in his expression stops you. It’s almost amused, like he knows something you don’t.

“Renjun doesn’t like it when people snoop,” Jeno continues, his tone conversational. “He gets... upset.”

“How do you know Renjun?” you ask, your voice trembling.

He smiles faintly, his eyes flicking to the dolls behind you. “Let’s just say we go way back.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes your skin crawl. “What are you doing here?”

“Same thing you are,” he says cryptically. “Looking for answers.”

Before you can respond, Jeno steps forward—and walks straight through one of the shelves. 

What the fuck.

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch his figure shimmer faintly, like heat waves rising from asphalt. He turns to look at you, his expression unreadable.

“You should leave,” he says softly. “Before it’s too late.”

And just like that, he vanishes, fading into the wall as though he were never there.

You’re left standing in the basement, your heart pounding and your mind racing. The dolls’ lifeless eyes seem to follow you as you back away, your legs shaking with every step.

When you finally make it back to the main floor, Renjun is waiting for you in the living room.

“What were you doing in the basement?” he asks, his voice tight.

You freeze, your mind scrambling for an answer. “I—”

“You know you’re not supposed to go down there,” he says, cutting you off. His tone is calm, but his eyes are sharp, his jaw clenched.

“I was just looking for something,” you lie, trying to keep your voice steady. “I couldn’t sleep.”

He studies you for a moment, then sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You should’ve told me. There’s nothing down there for you.”

You nod, forcing a smile. “Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

But as Renjun pulls you into a half-hearted hug, you can feel the tension in his body. His fingers linger on your back a little too long, as though trying to keep you from slipping away.

You say nothing about the dolls. Or the man named Jeno.

But deep down, you know you’ve stepped into something you can’t ignore anymore.

Renjun’s behavior grows more unpredictable with each passing day. His once gentle nature gives way to sudden bursts of tension: slamming doors, muttering under his breath, pacing the house at odd hours. You try to ignore it, to chalk it up to stress or exhaustion, but the warning signs are impossible to dismiss.

One evening, after he disappears into the basement again without a word, you decide you can’t wait any longer. Whatever he’s hiding down there, you need to know.

The basement feels colder than before, the air heavy with the scent of chemicals and something else—something rancid. The dolls remain in their haunting poses, their glassy eyes fixed on nothing and everything at once. You can’t shake the feeling that they’re watching you.

You move quickly, rifling through the cluttered workbench. Papers covered in scrawled notes, jars of unidentifiable substances, and tools you can’t even name. Your hand trembles as you lift a folder marked with your name.

Before you can open it, a voice cuts through the silence.

“What are you doing?”

You freeze, the folder slipping from your hands. Renjun stands at the base of the stairs, his face eerily calm, though his eyes burn with an intensity that makes your blood run cold.

“I—I was just—” you stammer, stepping back instinctively.

“You shouldn’t have come down here,” he says, his tone soft but firm. He takes a step closer, his hand hidden behind his back. “I trusted you.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Renjun, what is all this? What are you doing down here?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he steps fully into the room, revealing the syringe in his hand. The clear liquid inside catches the light, its purpose unknown but unmistakably sinister.

“I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this,” he murmurs, almost regretfully. “I thought I could fix everything without hurting you. But you had to go and make things difficult.”

“Renjun, please,” you say, your voice shaking. “Whatever this is, we can talk about it. You don’t have to—”

“You don’t understand,” he interrupts, his voice cracking. “I’m doing this for you. For everyone. You don’t know what you are, what you’re capable of.”

He lunges before you can react, the syringe glinting as he closes the distance between you. You scream, twisting and flailing, but he’s faster, stronger than you expect. The needle sinks into your neck, and the icy burn of the liquid spreads through your veins.

The last thing you hear before the world fades to black is Renjun’s trembling voice.

“I’m so sorry.”

When you wake, the cold metal beneath you is the first thing you notice. Your body feels heavy, unresponsive, as though the drug hasn’t entirely worn off. The dim light above casts shadows across the room, and as your vision clears, you see him.

Renjun stands over you, his face pale and drawn, yet his hands move with steady precision. Tools are laid out neatly beside him, glinting in the faint light.

“Renjun?” you whisper, your voice weak and hoarse.

He startles slightly, his gaze snapping to yours. For a moment, his expression softens, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. But it vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

“You’re awake,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “I wasn’t expecting that yet.”

“What... what are you doing?” you ask, panic rising in your chest.

He sighs, his hands pausing as he picks up a scalpel. “I’m saving you,” he says simply, his tone matter-of-fact. “You won’t feel a thing, I promise. When this is over, you’ll be perfect. No one will ever be able to hurt you again.”

“Renjun, stop!” you scream, thrashing against the straps that hold you down. “Please, you don’t have to do this!”

His eyes glisten with unshed tears as he shakes his head. “I don’t have a choice,” he whispers. “You’re dangerous, even if you don’t know it. I’ve seen what you’ll become if I don’t stop it from happening now.”

He leans closer, the scalpel trembling slightly in his hand. “But it’s okay,” he continues, his voice cracking. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll love you just the same. You’ll see. You’ll understand one day.”

Tears blur your vision as you struggle harder, the straps biting into your skin. “Renjun, please! I love you! Don’t do this!”

His hand falters for a moment, the scalpel hovering just above your skin. “I love you too,” he says, his voice breaking. “That’s why I have to do this.”

The sharp edge glints as it lowers toward you, and your screams echo through the basement, mixing with Renjun’s whispered apologies.

Your body trembles against the restraints, your heart racing as Renjun’s scalpel hovers closer to your skin. Desperation fuels you, and you yank against the straps with everything you have. The leather digs into your wrists, cutting into your skin, but you don’t stop.

“Stop struggling,” Renjun says softly, his voice almost pleading. “You’ll only hurt yourself.”

But you don’t listen. Instead, you twist your arm as hard as you can, feeling the strap loosen just slightly. The metal table creaks beneath your movements, and the scalpel in his hand wavers.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “Don’t make this harder for me.”

With a surge of adrenaline, your wrist finally slips free, the leather snapping loose. You lunge forward, catching him off guard. His eyes widen in shock as you grab at the tools on the tray beside you, your fingers fumbling for anything sharp.

“Stop!” he shouts, dropping the scalpel to grab your arm. His grip is strong, but your determination is stronger.

You manage to grab a pair of forceps and swing them wildly, catching him across the face. He cries out, staggering backward and clutching his cheek, blood seeping between his fingers.

“You don’t understand!” he yells, his voice raw with emotion. “I’m trying to save you!”

But you don’t stop. You twist your body, freeing your other arm, and kick out with your legs, knocking the tray of tools to the floor. The clang of metal echoes in the room as you grab the scalpel he dropped.

Renjun lunges at you, his hands outstretched, but you roll off the table just in time. Your knees buckle as you hit the floor, but you push yourself up, the scalpel clutched tightly in your shaking hand.

“Please,” he says again, his voice desperate now. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”

You scream, charging at him with the scalpel. He grabs your wrist, the two of you grappling for control. His strength is terrifying, and for a moment, you think you’ll lose.

“You’re not the person I fell in love with!” you cry, tears streaming down your face.

“I am!” he shouts, his eyes wild. “I’m doing this because I love you!”

The scalpel slips in your hand, slicing your palm, but you don’t let go. With a sudden burst of strength, you shove him backward. He stumbles, tripping over the tray of tools and falling to the floor.

Before he can get up, you’re on him, pinning him down. The scalpel shakes in your hand as you press it against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

He looks up at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. “No,” he breathes. “You don’t have to—”

But you do.

With a scream, you drive the scalpel into his chest. Blood blooms beneath the blade, spreading across his shirt. His body jerks, his hands clawing weakly at yours, but his strength is fading fast.

His lips part, as if to say something, but no sound comes out. His eyes, once so full of love, now stare up at you in a mix of pain and betrayal.

You pull the scalpel out and stab him again, and again, each strike accompanied by a choked sob.

When it’s over, you collapse beside him, your hands trembling and covered in blood. The room is silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing.

Renjun lies motionless, his face pale and his body still. The pool of blood beneath him grows larger, seeping into the cracks of the cold basement floor.

For a long moment, you can’t move, can’t think. All you can do is stare at his lifeless form, the weight of what you’ve done crashing down on you.

Then, slowly, you drag yourself to your feet, your legs weak and unsteady. You wipe your bloodied hands on your shirt, your breaths coming in shallow gasps.

But as you turn to leave, something glimmers in the corner of your eye. A reflection in the glassy eyes of one of the dolls, watching you, silent and unblinking.

You stagger up the basement stairs, your mind reeling, Renjun’s blood still warm on your hands. The house feels eerily silent now, the weight of what you’ve done pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

You sink onto the couch, trembling, trying to steady your breathing. The nightmare is over—or so you tell yourself. Yet, deep inside, a strange calm begins to settle over you, and with it, clarity. 

“I did it,” you whisper, almost to yourself. “It’s over.”

“Not quite,” a familiar voice cuts through the quiet.

You whirl around to see Ning Yizhuo standing in the doorway. She looks far less ghastly now, her skin no longer pallid and her cloudy eyes replaced with sharp, piercing ones. She steps into the room with an unsettling grace, her lips curling into a sly smile.

“Oh fuck you.” you gasp, your voice seemingly becoming annoyed. “I told you I could handle it.”

“Did you really think you could keep me out of this?” she asks, tilting her head. “You’ve always had a flair for the dramatic, but even I didn’t think you’d drag it out this long.”

“You know I wouldn’t let you die.” you counter back.

“Oh, come on,” Yizhuo says, her tone teasing. “You didn’t even know I was there!”

For odd as the situation was, this casual conversation seemed too strange for someone who had just had a traumatic encounter. 

But you remembered it all. 

The reason why you were here in the first place. 

The spellwork, the rituals, the whispers of your coven as you planned everything together. Renjun—brilliant, dangerous, utterly unhinged—had been the perfect candidate to father the next generation of your powerful bloodline. His twisted mind, his obsession with creation, his unparalleled intellect—they were irresistible.

But he’d caught on, hadn’t he? His jealousy of Yizhuo, his paranoia, the experiments. He’d discovered the truth about who you were, what you were, and had convinced himself that you were a threat that needed to be eliminated.

“You were supposed to bring him to heel,” Yizhuo says, crossing her arms. “But instead, you let him spiral. Do you know how much work it was for me to survive after what he did to me?”

“I didn’t plan for this,” you mutter, your voice hollow.

“No,” Yizhuo replies sharply. “You didn’t. You got too attached. Like you always do. But you still got the job done, didn’t you?”

You glance down at your hands, still stained with Renjun’s blood, and a strange sense of satisfaction wells up within you. Despite the chaos, despite the loss of control, the end result remains the same.

Yizhuo steps closer, crouching down in front of you. “He was right about one thing,” she says, her voice soft now. “You are dangerous. But that’s exactly why this worked. You’re stronger now, more focused. And with him out of the way, there’s nothing stopping us.”

You look up at her, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. The weight on your chest lifts, replaced by a dark, intoxicating sense of purpose.

“He was brilliant,” you say quietly, almost wistfully. “But he underestimated me.”

“They always do,” Yizhuo replies, standing and extending a hand to you. “Come on. We have work to do. The coven’s waiting.”

You take her hand and rise to your feet, the tension in your body melting away as the truth of who you are settles over you like a comforting shroud.

As you leave the house together, you cast one last glance back at the basement door. The ghost of a smile plays on your lips as you whisper under your breath, “Thank you, Renjun. You were perfect.”

The door creaks shut behind you, and the house falls silent once more, now a graveyard for twisted dreams and dark beginnings.

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