#life is strange before the storm x reader

[tryingtofindava]

hi!! i was wondering if you would write a max caulfeild x fem!reader who suffers from night terrors/nightmares

i adore max and she’s such a comfort character but there are hardly any fics of her!

𝐌𝐚𝐱 𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬*ೃ༄

: ̗̀➛Back to source

She remembers first discovering about your night terrors when she woke up to you knocking on her dorm door, asking if you could sleep with her for the night.

And who is she to deny you when you’re clearly freaked out of your wits?

After the whole Jefferson thing, she definitely had some sleeping problems too. Having constant nightmares of what happened in the dark room.

So she has some melatonin gummies (strawberry flavoured ofc)

Though… if you do wake up from a nightmare even while sleeping with Max. She’ll leave you to decide if you want to talk about said dream.

She knows that they suck major ass :c

She’ll snuggle with you to make you feel better if they were extra spooky though, she’s like a human radiator. (her true super power)

And if it’s literally impossible for you to fall back asleep, she’ll make you a cup of tea so you guys can just watch a comedy film to take your mind off of things.

[annwrites]

—burn it down

always said i was a good kid. always said i had a way with words. never knew i could be speechless. don't know how i'll ever break this curse. — damon merrick x voluntarilymute!reader ; ‧₊˚.

You peek out the window, watching two men exchange words—one of them tall and muscled, with a black leather jacket and slicked-back hair, a number of tribal tattoos crawling up the skin of his neck, and a small scar across the bridge of his nose—before the blond one, who has his back turned to you, hands the tattooed one a small wad of money. The tattoo man, in exchange, hands him a small baggy.

They then part ways.

Just as the brunet turns in your direction, you duck…and promptly knock over a small piece of sheet metal, grimacing at the clatter it creates.

“Who’s there?” He calls.

You remain silent, crouching in a corner, hoping that if you remain silent, he’ll keep his distance, deign that it must’ve just been an animal, and go.

You’re not so lucky when you hear heavy footsteps coming closer and closer…until he’s standing in the doorway. And he looks the furthest thing from friendly.

He sneers, entering your private space, and he quickly reaches down, grabs you by the arm in a painfully tight grip, and yanks you to your feet.

“You fuckin’ watchin’ me?”

You blink up at him, trying to wrench your arm free to no avail.

He stalks closer, pressing you back against a solid wall of gray cinder blocks.

“Who. Are. You.” He demands through clenched teeth.

You swallow nervously, still continuing to stare up into his angry, brown eyes.

“What’re you, fuckin’ slow?”

You shake your head no.

He snorts. “Expect me to believe you’re a mute, then?”

You merely blink.

Finally, he releases you, and you fill with relief.

“The hell are you doing hanging out in a junkyard, anyway, kid?”

Your mouth tugs into a frown.

You then hold up eight fingers, followed by ten.

He crosses his arms, raising a brow. “Eighteen. Like I said: a kid.”

You roll your eyes, grabbing your small backpack, sliding it onto your shoulders.

“You go to Blackwell?” He asks, seating himself atop an open windowsill.

You nod.

“Last year?” He asks, assuming as much by your age.

You nod.

“A mute private-school kid who spends her spare-time in scrap yards.”

You shrug, stepping past him, making to leave.

He follows you out.

“You really don’t talk?” He asks with a doubtful tone.

You turn back to him, shaking your head.

Finally, he glances across the yard to his truck, then back to you. “Like it matters.”

With that, he steps away, leaving.

You retrieve your bike, doing the same.

It’s a week later before you see him again, once again at the scrap yard. You’re sitting, sketching a dilapidated boat when he pulls up in his truck.

You glance up, watching as he lights a cigarette, his eyes quickly flitting to you, while your own flit away, back to your project.

You pick up a blue colored pencil, and he comes closer.

You wrinkle your nose in preparation for the stinking scent of cigarette smoke that’s soon to greet you.

He slides a hand in his pocket, holding the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, watching you draw.

You turn your head, looking up at him, raising a brow at his nosiness.

“So you’re a mute artist. Wasn’t there some dead guy like that?”

Van Gogh, you think—wrong body part.

You grab the lobe of your left ear, then make a sawing motion with your opposite hand.

“The guy cut off his own fuckin’ ear?”

You nod, picking your pencil back up.

He clears his throat and you roll your eyes, reluctantly gazing back up at him yet again.

He jerks his head to the small storage building you’d been in last time. “Either need to hide or leave. I have a customer coming.”

You glance to his pocket, wondering what he’s selling—you assume you already know: he’s a drug dealer—then back to his face.

He smirks. “What, you lookin’ for a study aid?”

You sigh, gathering your things, heading in the direction of your hidey-hole.

“You can come out now,” he calls, lighting up a new cigarette.

After a moment, you emerge, returning to your boat.

He remains leaned back against a rusted Dodge Powerwagon, observing you.

“So, are you mute, or do you just choose not to speak?”

You hold up two fingers without looking at him.

“Why?”

You retrieve an orange pencil, drawing the mascot of a huge goldfish that’s peeling off the side of the boat.

“You’re really fucking strange, you know that?”

You toss down your materials, huffing, pulling out a decorative notebook from your backpack, and you flip it open to a blank page and begin to write.

You then hold it up to him, and he reads over the written words: You sell drugs…?

He folds his arms, glaring at you from under his lashes. “You a narc?”

You lean your head to the side and frown.

“So, I’m strange because I figured out a way to make some extra cash on the side?”

You return to your drawing, tiring of being interrupted.

“I think it’s strange to refuse to use your fuckin’ voice and instead make people guess at what you’re getting at with just looks and body language.”

You pick back up your notebook, writing heatedly.

We don’t have to speak.

He holds his hands up then—cigarette smoking between his fingers. “Forgive me for tryin’ to be fuckin’ polite.”

You snort at that: a polite drug-dealer.

“Only one of us is ‘speaking’, anyway,” he mutters.

You continue outlining your goldfish, trying to get the tail just right.

“So, what, is it some kind of protest bullshit? Like a hunger-strike? Parents cut your allowance, so you stop talking?”

You groan—the first time he’s heard you make noise which utilizes your vocal chords—then double over your sketch pad, trying to insinuate just how little interest you have in discussing this with him.

He shoves himself onto the hood of the vehicle, the metal groaning under his weight, and he plants the heels of his boots on the front bumper.

The two of you remain silent, him watching you, you pretending not to notice, while you continue with your artwork.

“Well, this is fucking thrilling,” he says, leaning back against the windshield, continuing to puff on his smoke.

You turn to him, and since he can’t see you now with the way he’s leaned back, you stick out your tongue.

It’s a handful of minutes later before he rises, hopping down, and stomping out his cigarette before heading to his truck.

You don’t look up as he roars away.

“Damon.”

You remain focused on your current task—balancing your feet atop the side of a railroad track, your arms outstretched on either side of you.

“Merrick,” he continues, supplying you with his surname as well.

You continue looking down, wobbling slightly.

It’s been a few days since the last time you saw him.

You’d figured he would continue to reappear—this is obviously his designated location for conducting business of an…unseemly nature—but showing so much interest in you had been unexpected.

“I need to guess yours?”

You take a few more balanced steps forward.

“Fine. Is it—”

You spin around, jumping down onto the tracks, signing your name.

He, predictably, stares at you, waiting.

You step closer to him, looking into his eyes, then grab his hand.

He jerks it back, so you huff, doing it again.

You force him to unfurl his long fingers from the tight fist they’re curled into, then trace the letters of your first name along his callused palm.

You don’t much intend to communicate in a tactile manner in the future, but it serves its purpose well enough at the moment.

“Y/N?” He asks with a raised brow.

You release him, nodding.

He retrieves a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, lighting one up. “Nice to finally meet you, sweetheart.”

You turn back to the railroad tracks, climbing back onto the rail.

“So it’s never a pain in the ass for you? Not using your words?”

You shrug, extending your arms once more.

“You afraid of the sound of your own damn voice or somethin’?”

You still, your shoulders tightening, then continue again.

“Well, that didn’t take long to figure out, did it?”

You clench your teeth.

He begins walking alongside you, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I’ll just start taking shots in the dark, then. Were you—”

You swing around, clamping a hand over his mouth.

He swats it away, taking a step back, sneering. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me. You don’t put your hand over my goddamn mouth like that unless you want me to break it.”

You push a finger against your lips then, not scared of his ‘tough guy’ act.

“What? Is being an enigma supposed to be part of your sex appeal?”

You raise a brow, stopping again, looking at him.

He shrugs, smirking. “You’re legal. I can say it.”

You cross your arms, not liking him objectifying you.

Even if he is tall, dark, and handsome. He admittedly has a few issues, though.

He’s dangerous, really.

And far too old for you.

Not that you’re interested.

You wish he’d find a new place to conduct his seedy business.

You were here first.

He takes a small step closer. “Thought it was annoying at first: the whole mime act. But, come to think of it, I like a woman who knows how to keep her trap shut. It’s a nice change of pace.”

You glower at him and his misogynistic insinuations.

You promptly stick out your tongue, wrinkling your nose.

He merely chuckles, thinking it makes you look like a bratty little kid.

He grabs your chin, then, between his fingers.

“Cute,” he says, running his thumb softly along your jaw.

You pull back, snubbing your nose at him, balancing once again.

when you were five-years-old, you witnessed something unspeakable. after which, you were sent to live with your maternal grandparents in arcadia bay.

you've also not spoken a single word since, instead choosing to hide your words away inside yourself, you communicate by various other means: signing, tactile touch, facial expressions, body language, or by writing in a notebook. So long as you never have to hear your own voice again, you feel safe.

you spend a portion of your spare-time in the junkyard some miles away from your private school of blackwell. and then comes the day you come across a dangerous drug-dealer conducting business there. rather, he comes across you when you accidentally give yourself away by knocking something over in the place where you attempt to hide from him, but he doesn't dare harm you.

so, the two of you continue returning to the location, and, by extension, each other. as the weeks go on, you come to learn that his bark is worse than his bite, but only when it comes to you—the one person in all the world that he develops a vulnerable soft-spot for.

the girl without a voice, who he seems able to hear anyway.

headcanons:

i put a pinky promise in the middle of the moodboard, bc i intend for that to be the way the two eventually start saying bye to each other when they leave the junkyard after spending an afternoon together (reader adorably comes up w/ it).

damon is the first person reader tells what happened to her at five-years-old.

his name becomes the first word she speaks after thirteen years.

[ohmanareyoucereal69]

TO ALL OF YOU AMERICAN GIRLS ITS SAD TO IMAGINE A WORLD WITHOUT YOU

[teaaagan]

Room

Chloe: can we please stay in your room?

Max: why?

Rachel: we played with an ouija board and cursed ours

Chloe: and Y/N isn't much help, they doesn't know how to banish spirits, they just throws salt at them and yells "does this look like a hotel to you?!"

[emarttt]

Never bother the Diaz brothers…

(Just love how Daniel casually makes rocks flight to frighten some assholes here, he’s just like a little gremlins LMAO)

I’m so proud of this, not gonna lie-

~how I love them~

[casualwriters]

Summary: Nathan comes to the one person beside Victoria he trusts, and you, when he has a mental breakdown,  are there to calm him down. 

Warnings ⚠️ Spoilers for LIS, mental breakdowns, underage smoking , Marijuana.

pairing ~ Nathan Prescott x poc fem reader

A/n ~ I love writing this side of Nathan just so adorable had fun doing this small fic.

Finally Having a day off, you were stuck in your dorm, leaning back against the pillow, sighing, and going through some of the pictures. This was hard, but some of them were okay. and you been into

photography, for a while and most of the pictures were of Nathan and some of Victoria; both of them were photogenic and good, so why not use Victoria for that? Picking up one of the pictures, a smile came onto your face and than there was one of you but would that really work.

Standing in front of Nathan in full swing was one of the Vortex parties. Clearly, both of you were waisted or on something. His head was nuzzled into your neck and kissing your skin, and both of you were smiling and happy. 

Grabbing the lighter, holding the bong in your hand, and taking a hit, the sound of bubbles and the smoke envading your lungs Blowing the smoke into the air, you saw the door open. "Nate?" you asked, setting the bong on the ground. Standing up, you saw him walk in. He looked furious. "Hey," he said. You could tell he was just trying to keep his cool. You wanted to walk over and just give him a huge hug, but you knew better. 

"Fucking Max!" He raised his voice, making you sit down on your bed. You were just here to listen. "She has to put her fucking noise in everything," he said, pushing off from the door frame he was leaning on and walking forward. It looked like he was going to cry, but he never cried. "Nate, come here," you said, stepping up from your bed and walking closer. If any normal person had even tried to talk to him, he would have flipped and gone crazy. "Y/n, I can't do this anymore," he said, his voice stern and his face growing red and in tears, but you could tell it was deeper than that not just about Max Mabye, his dad? 

Nathan pulled away. His eyes were red and puffy from crying into your shoulder; he looked like he was a mess. He was finally breaking down and showing the people, and you turned around to see him looking at the pictures. that were on your bed, you could see the small smile on his face when he walked to your bed and picked up one of the pictures. It was you. Sitting in your dorm room, Christmas lights were over your skin, and the light was dark, but there was some light in the middle. You were posing while sitting, and your back was turned to the camera. "This one," he waved to you. His face was still sad, and anger was in his eyes. "Mr. Jefferson would have to pick this one." 

You sat down on the bed, and Nathan followed. He did not mind having his eyes closed, and some tears were falling down. Wrapping him in a hug, you kissed his head, and Nathan looked down at the picture. "You are beautiful; you know that, right?" It was rare. Nathan was never really verbal with his feelings and never had his guard down, but it was refreshing to see it. 

Holding Nathan, he was laying his head on your chest. Hearing your heart beat and chuckling a little, you nodded. "You told me before," you said, and Nathan chuckled, rolling his eyes. "Don't forget it, Princess," he says. 

[xoxomaeve2]

when the fanfic title is a verse from any queer artists you know its about to eat

[ruassurvivalkit]

should I start writing life is strange fics?? (requests are open)

[smizzy]

do it for u

been YEARSSSS since bts dropped and I don't see more fics than my grandma age n she pushin 90.....

Throwing parties weren't for the weak

but look where u are now

you only thought it was right since the loyl's birthday was in 2 days

Blackwell never knew how you could even spend bills like that when you weren't anywhere close to Victoria and Nathan's social class

you still came thru nonetheless after being accused of embezzlement which is most likely true

anything for Ms. Amber even if you end up in a orange jumpsuit and cuffs

she could read you like a book but she couldn't put her finger on what you were hiding

oh brother if u seen her face the night of her very own night

"HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYYY RACHELLLLL" darn near all the cities that collectively make Oregon could've heard that

made many people wish their significant other did it for them on their birthday which most likely ended up with a break up..

the REAL meaning of "stuntin on these hoes"

everyone KNOWS who the birthday girl is

someone shares the same birthday and is currently in the birthday bash?????

sorry baby but u gon need 2 gtfo

yes u in fact did get firewalk to get on that stage and sing til their fingers get bloody and can't reach high notes anymore

just to prove how far you'd go for her and Chloe igz

you'd just be sitting in a corner booth with Vic sharing a blunt no wonder why but Rachel still had your attention in the most heart wrenching way

"God you're literally lovesick it's making me actually sick"

we all know she thinks it's absolutely adorable and if the lighting was better she'd snap a pic

maybe she did maybe not....

you'll both find out tomorrow on her insta page :3

after Victoria left and everyone seemed to calm down with drinks in their hands and swaying around.

you seen Rach coming right to you with pure fucking love written all over her face

too bad you were alr meeting her halfway like a moment in a corny movie

"I heard you're the mastermind behind all of this?"

She looked at every aspect of your face and examined your facial features under the bright red light shining upon everyone

"Only for you Rachel Amber"

That might've been the last straw for her to fully decide she wanted to get the hell outta Arcadia bay with you right now

She knew you could possibly end up behind bars before she could even wake up n brush her teeth

"Let's leave....tonight"

[alessiathepirate]

Life is Strange: Before the Storm

WOUNDS: Frank Bowers x fem!reader

Summary: "In his own way, he tried to keep her and her friends out of trouble. Yet no one asked him if he was okay. He did so much for them - and she was the only one who wanted to honestly say thank you for that."

OR

They both have injuries, they both worry for the other - so checking up on your loved one is a must.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I made while I wrote this short story.

I think this one deserves a longer explanation :)

I was working on this / had this in my drafts for months - and now it's finally finished! Although I wanted to make this a series, a longer story following the whole plot of the game, I decided against it. It would've been mostly literal dialogues from the game and I wasn't sure if it would've been interesting that way. Since it was originally suppoused to be a longer story I apologize if the her in this case has a little bit of a personality.

Also, Frank deserves his own stories. He doesn't get enough appreciation.

Warnings: swearing, mentioned drug use, violence, description of wounds

•••

She took a deep, nervous breath as she looked at the path in front of her. It was dark and empty - and it definitely didn't show any sign of life anywhere. She had to admit, Rachel really left her mark on the forest and probably on the whole town. Dead trees were everywhere and when she breathed the dust in, it made her sneeze and cough.

She grabbed the bag on her shoulder, her fingers were slightly shaking and there was a weird feeling in her stomach. She wanted all those feelings to stop and disappear, so she could finally concentrate - but she just couldn't give that command to her body, because it didn't want to co-operate.

Then, after a few moments of silence, she walked towards the meeting point what was sent to her through a message. Soon enough, she saw life in the chaos. There were only a few healthy trees here and there at first, but then she was walking through the forest she knew. The green and lively one.

Was it worth it though? The silence, the walk, the pain?

Even getting the stupid phone number was hard and she blushed so hard when Rachel and Chloe asked why they need to cover for her. She didn't say anything though, she just asked them to drop her off at the Two Whales diner - yet she knew they were dying from curiousity and the fact that they didn't know what was going on with her, especially after the accident.

The accident, where she saved Rachel from Damon Merrick's knife and where she was stabbed because of that decision.

She still felt the need to vomit, whenever she thought about that moment.

She was in front of Rachel and Chloe when it started, so she couldn't see what was going on behind her, but in the next second she was pushed aside by Rachel. She almost fell, but luckily she found her balance. The next thing she saw was Rachel hitting Damon Merrick in the head with a piece of heavy looking plank. The knife - what he used to threaten them - fell out of his hand, he fell too and meanwhile he pushed Frank, who landed on the ground as well. Blood was flowing from the dark wound on Damon's forehead.

She looked at Chloe who froze from shock and most likely panic, then she looked at the knife. Rachel was still standing with the plank is her hands.

And then she jumped. She jumped for the knife, trying to get it, trying to get Damon's weapon far away from it's psychotic owner.

Damon was about to get up and get to Rachel who tried to hit him again. She was there, she could feel the handle... Damon caught the plank with his left hand, trying to catch the knife with the other, but then he felt her hand on the weapon.

She tried to grab it, but her hand was kicked away after the guy pushed Rachel away, who fell. Her fingers were numb from the kick, but she didn't have time to rest and check it.

Rachel was up again, she was about to hit Damon out of anger and frustration. But she saw something Rachel didn't. She saw Damon reaching for the knife. She saw him move towards Rachel. She was sure he was about to stab her...

And then she jumped again. This time to get her friend out of harm's way which was, well - successful. Too successful. She saw Rachel barely keeping her balance and then she felt the pain. The fucking sudden, strong pain in her stomach as she landed on the ground, unable to land on her hands to push herself back up.

She heard someone scream and gasp. Maybe it was her. Maybe it wasn't. Somehow she was sure nothing left her mouth.

She turned around. She was laying on her back and she tried to find the place where the pain came from with her hands. There was something sticky. And then there was a kick.

"Oh, for the fucks sake!" she was sure Rachel was about to hit Damon again who most likely just kicked her in the stomach.

But she wasn't sure. She couldn't think. She gasped, the air ran out of her lungs, her eyes opened in fear and realization. She hugged herself with her arms to try to get away from the pain, she wanted to curl up and disappear...

She tried to get the memories out of her head as she saw light not so far away. Fire, how poetic... - with a table and two chairs, the first one full of booze of course, but that was something she expected.

Her anxiety increased when she looked at the RV she wanted to find and she felt as if her bones turned to jelly. She didn't have time to mentally kick herself for these irrelevant feelings, because in the next moment her muscles moved on their own accord. She knocked on the RV's door, then she stepped back to wait.

She was sweating - she soon realized. She tried to explain it to herself that it was because she was standing so close to the fire, but even she couldn't believe herself.

The RV's door soon opened, the man who she wanted to see was standing in the doorway, but before she could find the right words to say, to begin with; the small puppy ran towards her, jumping on and bumping into her knees, trying to make her pet him. She couldn't however, because the wound still hurt, even if she was only breathing. The puppy's answer was a gentle bite. She just smiled and let out a small laugh.

"Still a killer, I see..."

"Pompidou!"

"It's okay. No need to scold him. He just wants to play, don't you?" she looked down at the puppy still smiling, then she looked up at the man, who was still standing in the doorway. "How are you doing? I heard what happened and I wanted to know if..." she shyly looked at Pompidou who was biting her shoelace, but this time to hide the fact that she was blushing. "you are all right."

She felt his gaze on herself, mainly on her face. She knew he saw the blush she was trying to hide so desperately and she knew he was studying her every expression.

God, she felt so bad that the only thing she can do is awkwardly standing there, waiting for an answer. She can't squat down to pet Pompidou or anything, because of the wound - and in that moment it was the worst thing in the world.

"I'm fine." the answer came after a while and she had to step back to let Frank fully get out of the RV. For a few short seconds they were just standing there, examining the other - even though she still didn't dare to look him in the eye. She could almost feel his breath tickling her forehead. "I'm sorry I didn't check up on you back in the hospital." his words finally made her seek his gaze - there was some kind of softness in his eyes. "I just thought it would be awkward... you know, with family members and all that."

"Oh, don't even start with them!" she laughed as she remembered how annoyingly kind everyone tried to be to her after they found out what happened to her. Her parents didn't want to leave her alone for a second and even Joyce wanted to go and see how she was doing. She adored that woman - especially after she smuggled some food in for her. "It's so weird to see everyone suddenly becoming so annoyingly soft with you, you know."

" 'Good to know you're alright." Frank said and for a moment she thought she heard some kind of relief in his voice. It made her legs shake.

"Yeah," the blush was back again "I'm happy to see you're okay as well."

Pompidou gave up on biting her shoelace and lazily sat down between the two of them.

"Take a seat, I don't want you to stand here all night." he kept his hand on the RV's door handle for a moment and then asked: "I have some beer in the fridge if you want one."

"Sure, why not..." in reality she had plenty of reasons to say no, but she didn't want to refuse the offer. "Thank you!"

Frank was gone for a few minutes and while she was left alone, she took a seat in front of the fire. Sitting down was still a hard and uncomfortable thing to do. She had to get rid of her bag for it and she had to keep her hand on the bandaged wound to slowly sit down and find a great position. Not so long after, Pompidou curled up next to her.

"Why did you want to meet up?" she heard Frank's voice from the RV. "You need something again?"

Her heart ached from that accusation for a moment.

"No." she answered sadly. "I just- uh... wanted to make sure you are okay. I heard what happened with Damon and I didn't know your number so I couldn't call or anything before, so I-" she finished her nervous rambling after he got back with two bottles of beer in his hands. She shyly took one of them and muttered a quiet 'thank you' as Frank took a seat as well.

"I'm happy you're here."

"Yeah, me too."

There was silence for a while as they opened the beers and took a few sips.

"The damn dog seems to like you more than anyone else."

"Yes, he's real cute." she said happily as she looked at the small, sleeping body next to her chair. "His name is really French. Pompidou was the name of a French president. It means: someone from Pompidou, a place in South-East of France."

"You really are a smart ass, huh?" Frank asked, trying to sound annoyed, but she saw the small smile he was hiding.

"Come on, don't act like it bothers you!"

"You're right. It doesn't." after he took a sip from his beer he added: "It's cute."

This time she tried to hide behind the bottle she was holding to hide her rosy cheeks. "I didn't know you- found me... cute." she said slowly and waiting for an answer she took a sip from the beer as well.

"Really? I thought I made it kinda obvious."

Her teeth bumped into the glass as she tried to not choke on the alcohol she wasn't able to swallow properly. God, she really turned a rambling, awkward idiot every single time she was talking to him.

Did he really make it that obvious though?

She didn't know him for long. They met at the Firewalk concert, where she went with Chloe to try and enjoy life after an awful part of reality. It was the day they pissed off Damon's pals as well. Since that day she hasn't heard anything but jokes, kind words and praises from him - and in his own way, he tried to keep her and her friends out of trouble. Yet no one asked him if he was okay after he kept those douchebags back at the concert or after he got in fight with Merrick to give Chloe, Rachel and herself an opportunity to run away. He did so much for them - and she was the only one who wanted to honestly say thank you for that.

She quickly grabbed her bag and looked down at it, not looking at Frank while she was trying to find all the stuff she brought for him. Meanwhile she was praying to the gods above, that her hair was hiding her face well.

"Yeah, so as I was getting here I grabbed a few stuff I thought you might need." she put a paperbag on the table with the Two Whales logo on it. "I didn't know what kind of burger you like, so I stayed with cheeseburgers - I haven't really seen anyone who hates them. Also, Joyce makes the best fucking cheeseburgers in Arcadia Bay and- oh God, I am rambling again, aren't I?"

Frank didn't say anything, but she could tell he wasn't ignoring the poetic question. His eyes were filled with surprise and adoration, and she did her best to hide behind her hair again.

"Anyways, the thought that I am lying in a hospital bed with stitched up stab wounds and not knowing what's up with you didn't let me sleep peacfully. I learned how to take care of stab wounds properly, the nurse kindly showed me before she let me go, so I-" she put a first aid kit on the table, what was filled up with all the things she knew she needed "I packed everything up and got here to check if the wound you have is taken care of the healthy way... If you let me, of course..."

There was complete silence for a long time. It made her sweat nervously and she grabbed the bottle of beer again, so she can do something with her hands.

"What makes you think my wound hasn't been taken care of?" Frank asked as he touched the place above his heart, where the knife stabbed him not so long ago.

"Oh! Well I thought that it would be too risky for you, going to the hospital after you were stabbed by Damon Merrick... You wouldn't want the cops to sneak around and start to ask questions..."

Frank couldn't hold back a chuckle. "Smart ass!"

"Hey! You say it again and I'll take it as a personal insult!"

"Sorry, kid. I really don't want to insult you in any way." he said with a smile, but his voice was full of honesty. "So, Price told you everything... You can't keep anything a secret in this damn town these days, can you?"

"No, with us around you really can't." she laughed.

"Right, so you sure you won't poison me, accidentally kill me or anything?"

"I didn't go to some fancy university, Frank."

"Yet. You could make it anytime though."

She proudly smiled while her cheeks turned pink.

"So it means you trust me enough to believe I won't kill you?"

"I trusted you with the money you and Price had to get from Drew, didn't I? You made sure Price gave it to me. You stopped Damon from stabbing your friend and now you're here to check on me- with food..." the smile Frank gave her made her melt. "I don't see the reason why it would be a bad idea to let you see my wound."

She just smiled shyly as Frank put his beer down on the table, so he could reach the first aid kit to check it out properly.

"So, how do you want to do it?" he asked as he looked through the small box.

"You were stabbed on the left side of your chest weren't you? Oh, come on! Don't look at me like that, you know Chloe told me!"

" 'Course she did!"

"Right so..." she looked down for a moment at Pompidou, so she won't have to look Frank in the eyes, while saying these words: "I think you should take your shirt off or something- I mean it would be weird to stitch you up through it, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah. So this is the moment where I insert a 'if you wanted to see me shirtless all you had to do was ask' joke, right?"

"Please don't or I'll have to accidentally hurt you."

"Right, I get it." Frank said with a small laugh. "Wait a second."

He put the beer down and quickly got rid of his shirt, while she carefully stood up to get her chair closer to his. She kept her left hand on her stomach while she carried the furniture with her right. A few moments later she sat in front of Frank and tried to stop her hands from shaking.

"Were you the one who bandaged the wound?"

"Yes."

"All right. First I'll take this gauze off and then I'll take a proper look."

And then she put her left hand on his shoulder as she tried to get the gauze off with her right. She did her best to avoid his gaze. His skin was warm under her touch and with that it was also comforting. She let out a shaky breath as she realized he put his complete trust in her, he let her feel the way his chest moves with his breathing, he let her feel the warmth of his skin, he let her see the damaged area of his body - she can't fuck this up.

The fabric peeled off rather easily, even if it was stuck to his skin from the dried blood. Frank didn't let out any noise, but his expression meant that it wasn't painless.

"Did you take anything? I can't give you painkillers if you did unless you want to have a heart attack or something." she asked as she opened the med kit and grabbed a small, clean piece of fabric.

"Who do you think I am?"

She let out a laugh as she opened a water bottle and made the fabric wet. "Right, it was a dumb question."

She started to clean off the dried blood, but she was careful not to rub the wound or the stitches directly. She had to say he did a good enough job on the stitching. The thread seemed strong and medically acceptable, and the little holes in his skin where the thread came out seemed healthy and to her relief it wasn't infected at all.

"I have to say that you did a great job." she said as she put the water bottle and the fabric away. "I have close to nothing to do in this case."

She then grabbed a towel from the first aid kit and made sure she dried the area. Soon she was opening a white package what was full of square gauze and put one on the wound.

"Keep it in place, please."

She got some surgical tape and cut four pieces after measuring the gauze, then applied them along the edges of the square gauze so it was half on the dressing and half of his skin.

"Here, that's all I can do. At least I'll sleep calmly at night." she said as he put his shirt back on.

She was about to stand up and put the chair back to its place when he grabbed her hand as gently as possible causing her to stop her movement, and remain sitting on the furniture. "Thanks."

"It's fine. Don't mention it"

"I do appreciate the things you do for me, you know. You look after me, you worry about me..."

"I do the same things you do for us."

"For you." he corrected her. "I do most of that soft shit for you."

Her face was burning up. She could feel it. She tried to hide, but he didn't let her do that.

Frank's thumb softly brushed along her hand and her fingers, but when he reached the ring one and the middle one he stopped. Those two fingers on her right hand were in a bad shape, they were red and full of small cuts, not to mention the nails. The nails were the colour between black and dark purple and they'll most likely fall off after a while. The kick she's got from Damon did a number on her hand.

"Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes." she answered honestly, her voice higher than usual.

"That son of a bitch did a number on you." his voice was full of anger and worry, sending her to a whole new state of mind.

"I could say the same, you know."

"That doesn't matter, I wasn't spending weeks in a hospital room."

"To me it does." she whispered, her throat was getting dry. "And it wasn't weeks, it was only like ten days."

And then it just happened. Frank leaned in, their lips collided and the state of mind she got to when she heard the worry in his voice overtook her. Her thoughts got fuzzy, she felt dizzy and she was unsure if she'd be able to answer simple questions after he kissed her like that.

There was no war, no battle for dominance only a silent statement: I'm happy you are okay. And that statement and understanding made the kiss that passionate, yet that sweet. It was a mix of many undescribable feelings. Her stomach made flips and her face felt hot.

Her hands landed on his shoulders as he pulled her closer, causing their teeth to collide for a second - but that was easily forgettable when his hands were grabbing her waist, massaging the area gently as he pulled her towards himself more.

She was sure she would have landed on his lap if her wound was nonexistent. From the movement her stomach started to burn - and this kind of pain definitely wasn't from the passion. The feeling got a whimper then a pained moan out of her, ending the kiss sooner than she wanted to.

"Damn it, sorry." was Frank's reaction and then his right hand gently, with feather light touches found the place where the bandage on her stomach was applied to. "Didn't mean to hurt you."

His fingers started to draw circles around the wound, then he draw squares along the edges of the surgical tape.

"It's fine." she said with a smile she couldn't hide, a little out of breath. "I'm fine."

"You scared me, you know?" he started. "When you got stabbed. It scared me."

"But I'm fine. And I wouldn't be if you didn't look out for me and my friends."

"Yeah." there was a small pause, but he didn't withdraw his hands. "So do you want me to take a look at your wound as well?"

She blushed, but this time she didn't look away. "You know how to do it?"

"I learned from the best."

They shared a smile and Frank pressed a kiss to her forehead before he leaned back. "Now, those cheeseburgers are getting cold."

As she carefully stood up to get the food she bought, Frank placed the chair she was sitting on next to his one so there won't be anything between them. Pompidou, like he felt the change in the air, got up from his place and sat down next to her chair again. The puppy looked up at her with big, sweet eyes.

As they sat out there while they ate, one question formed itself in her mind: how will she explain this to her friends, who won't take secrets as an answer.

"Would you like to stay the night?"

"Can I?"

"You can." he answered with a smile as he took a sip from his beer. "Besides I gotta buy you breakfast tomorrow."

The stupid smirk what found its way up on her face was a clear answer. So was the kiss she initiated.

Damn the explanation. That can be a problem what'll have to wait 'til tomorrow.

[arthurs-ficz]

Nobody will probably see this because life is strange is such a small fandom.. Oh well!

This takes place in life is strange before the storm!

You walked. Your bag felt heavy on your back, as it bounced off your back every step you took.

Two people particularly caught your eye as you were walking.

You stopped in your tracks. Was that Nathan and Drew?

You saw Chloe, and some other girl. You think her name is Samantha, trying to defend Nathan.

Chloe was just insulting Drew with insults, but you had enough watching this bratty nonsense.

You may be 16, but you know better then to just pest petty insults like your student Chloe seemed to.

You stepped in Drew's face, blocking his view from everyone else just barely. You must have been two heads smaller then him.

“What the hell are you doing here? Are you also on this twitches side?”

Your eyes didn't loose their contact with Drew's, as your face looked almost emotionless. Your small figure not moving an inch.

“Maybe I am.” You say, just loud enough for him to hear.

Before he can respond, you punch Nathan's folder from out of his grasp.

Before the folder falls onto the ground, you catch it. Some photos fall out which you can't really make out. Those black and white photos aren't your biggest priority at the moment so you thrash them in as quick as they had fallen.

Drew looks at you embarrassed and stunned.

“I'll deal with you later, just you wait.” He says, Walking away. He looks like steam could come out of his ears.

You turn to Nathan, giving him his folder back.

“It's nice to see your face again Nate.”

Chloe and Samantha are stunned.

You and Nathan had been the closest of friends since middle school. Never leaving eachothers side.

Until your parents had to move away for a job that would be life changing.

Nathan said he would have gave you the money to be secure, and to stay in Arcadia. But his father didn't agree, and lectured Nathan on his 'ridiculous' offer.

You were his comfort person, someone who made all his nightmares go away.

When you left, it was the worst for him.

But you both always kept contact on the phone, however you never told Nathan you were coming to Arcadia again.

He looks at you. You think you can see stars in his eyes.

You hug his shaking body in response.

You take something fabric out of your pocket and place it onto his hand.

It was a tiny whale plush.

[2kverrr]

I read some of ur fics and may I ask, Why do u hate Chloe? Maybe I’m asking because I’m like madly and irrevocably in love with her. But I genuinely am curious.

Also I love the way u write !! Much love xoxo ♥️

so sorry for the late response, think of it as me dwelling on this absolutely amazing question.

i personally believe it was from my first play through when she was mega rude to max

also when she full on expected max to cover for her when chloe got caught on the ganj, not maxs problem.

when you answered kate’s call at the diner, she goes mental at max for it.

personally i sided with david on my first play through, no clue why, i must’ve felt bad for him. and the yap she gives max afterwards, i understand but i think it’s just a bit excessive.

besides all this, i did warm up to her in the next few episodes (what a lie, bay>bae) despite all that had annoyed me, it was left on a pretty decent note.

however when i began playing before the storm, all changed. 4 words. i love joyce price. why is chloe so rude to her? not being funny i would’ve been smacked right round the face if i spoke to my mother like that.

i think at this point i was just overcome with a grudge for this character, and everything she said just because so self-absorbed and bitchy, but i think that was just me i’ll be honest.

i found she was pretty rude to mostly everybody the interacted with and the speech options mostly had bitter undertones and it just irritated me.

just realised how hypocritical this all sounds fully well knowing i’m a vic chase fan till i die.

this all being about 4 years ago, i’ve now come to realise she is a lot more of a complex character than i can comprehend, and i’m happy to accept that.

one more from me, if you didn’t read this already here it is again bay>bae, sorry 🤷

[ohmanareyoucereal69]

[teaaagan]

McDonalds

Y/N: I said I wanted McDonald's.

Victoria: yeah and I bought you McDonald's.

Y/N: I MEANT A BIG MAC OR SOMETHING, NOT THE ENTIRE COMPANY? VICTORIA WTF?

[emarttt]

Working on a little something…

(Lis 2 related of course… :})

[lesvii]

~Master List~

Call of Duty Modern warfare

El Sin Nombre Escape (Valeria Garza x Fem!Reader)

Emotion (Valeria Garza x Fem!reader)

Wanted (Valeria Garza x Fem!Reader Original Character)

You’re Valeria Garza Buchifresa gf (Valeria Garza x Fem!reader)

You don’t own me (Valeria Garza x Fem!reader)

The dinner (Valeria Garza x Fem reader)

Life Is Strange: True colors

(Soon is only on AO3)

Life Is Strange

Dark Room

Arcane

(Soon is only on AO3)