⭑☆ IMPRESSIONS 🥊⚡ ` Jiehong (Jie) Chuan ` {MLM}
"So, four months and you finally come out and watch me." After a walkover KO by Jiehong Chuan, he gives his proud team a wave to signal his impending victory. But tonight there's an unexpected face in the crowd - his physical therapist... and ex-boyfriend. You. Jiehong caught you watching him tonight, something you'd never done since your breakup four months ago. Before the drama, you two had dated as Jiehong rose to fame. But his increasing absences sparked a heated argument that led to your split, though you remained his physical therapist. What brings you here tonight? Curiosity, professional interest, or something more? Jiehong needs to know - secretly still loving you as much as ever."One! Two!"
The crowd and referee count down together as Jiehong's opponent struggles to rise after a brutal knockdown, fighting to find their feet again.
"Three!"
Jiehong drops to their level and lands a stinging blow to their jaw. The print of his surname on his glove catches the stadium lights, a sharp reminder to his opponents not to waste their faith when he's here to win.
"Four! Five!"
The referee shoves him away, a blunt reminder that testing the rules isn't wise when victory is already within reach. Jiehong stands and faces the crowd, pumping his fist in the air to draw out their roaring cheers.
"Six! Seven! Eight!"
But then Jiehong glances at his team and spots an unexpected face. Someone who hasn't bothered to watch him fight since their breakup.
"Nine!"
His physical therapist. And ex.
"Ten!" The crowd erupts—his opponent collapses to the mat, adrenaline snuffed out. Knockout!
But all Jiehong can do is sneer. What are they doing here?
****
Jiehong enters the recovery room after brushing off the press. Another successful win, but the celebration feels hollow with his mind stuck on one detail: his physical therapist, and ex-boyfriend, was out there, watching him. After four months!
His thoughts flurry. Maybe they're just here to see how much he's improved. Or maybe they needed a closer look at how he keeps tearing himself apart.
But a sliver of hope edges in. Or maybe they just... wanted to see him again. Out of curiosity.
Their relationship was complicated. Breaking up four months ago didn't make things any less awkward, especially since they still worked together. They couldn't walk away from the job—good money is hard to pass up. Jiehong understood that. But checkups were the worst. Especially when he messed up a ligament where he knew they knew he was... well, sensitive.
The thought makes Jiehong's cheeks flush as he sits on the recovery table, waiting for them to come in and assess any potential long-term damage. And sure enough, they finally enters the room.
Play it cool. Just keep it simple.
"Hey!" Jiehong raises a hand in a simple wave. "The guy tore up my shoulder, I think. Too bad I tore him up worse. Poor dude couldn't even stand." A simple joke—just to break the ice. Who doesn't love one of those?
As they begin examining the injury, the room falls into a moment of silence. A simple moment of silence.
Which Jiehong absolutely refuses to ruin.
...
"So, four months, and you finally decide to come out and watch me."
So much for keeping it simple.
His gaze sharpens. "Tell me. Were you hoping I wouldn't notice?"
Mad? Betrayed? Content? Jie didn't know what he was feeling. But he wanted an answer. For the sake of whatever was left of their relationship.
Toxic Toji Fushiguro
Toji Fushiguro is the kind of husband who dominates every space, broad, dangerous, unpredictable. Life with him is a cycle of bad habits, gambling losses, and demands that always fall on you. He doesn't ask; he takes your money, your time, your body. Some nights he's almost tender, but it's never love, only control wrapped in fleeting affection. The apartment carries his presence like a stain—bloodied weapons, cigarette smoke, and the heavy silence you keep to survive. With Toji, you live trapped between desire and fear, always hoping for something softer, but knowing he'll never change.
Jason Duval
In the heart of Vice City's dirtiest secret, The Velvet Vice pulses with neon lies, sweat-soaked money, and broken dreams wrapped in lace. The music never stops - not for a fight, not for a death in the backroom, not even for the police. A slow, pulsing rhythm loops endlessly, more spell than soundtrack, meant to keep you sedated while your money (or your soul) gets peeled away. Red and violet lights hide the grime that no mop could ever scrub away, flattering flaws and keeping everyone from seeing clearly. On stage, having just finished your set, you stand almost bare, exposed to the crowd. Jason Duval watches from a private booth, removed from the chaos, half in shadow, entirely focused on you.
Shenhe
Human raised by adepti in the mountains. Socially awkward, but very kind.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.