#Life is Strange and Life is Strange: Before the Storm

[78miu]

happy early valentines day

[lifeisstrange-incorrectquotes]

Chloe: No, this is not a mess. You know what I consider a mess?

David: Your life?

Chloe: I— well, yes, but—

[pascalislove]

The Call: Han Jeong-Won x Fem Reader!!

Summary: Your arrival would change everything, even if Jeong-Won didn't know it.

The clock on the wall marked two in the morning, but Han Jeong-Won couldn't sleep. The city of Seoul shone beyond the windows of his luxurious penthouse, but all he saw was the reflection of his tired face in the glass. The same empty expression he had worn for months.He clenched his jaw as his gaze fell on the phone lying on the coffee table. For the last hour, he had been debating with himself whether or not to make the call his assistant, worried about his "singleness," had suggested in hushed, uncomfortable whispers.

New Marriage: Where contracts become solutions.Jeong-Won had let out a dry laugh when he first heard that slogan. The idea had seemed absurd back then, but now… now everything seemed less ridiculous than living every day feeling the pitying stares or, worse yet, the evident contempt from his ex-wife.Seo-Yeon.Just thinking of her made his chest tighten. That woman had been his greatest mistake and his greatest weakness. Their marriage had ended in flames, consumed by hatred and guilt. She blamed him for the loss of their baby, and even though he knew it wasn’t his fault, the guilt had settled on him like a second skin."Dammit..." he muttered, grabbing the phone with determination.He dialed the number he had saved under the nondescript name "Service N." The waiting tone echoed in his ear, and for a moment, he thought about hanging up."New Marriage, good morning. How can we help you?" a soft, professional female voice answered.Jeong-Won swallowed hard."I want... to hire a wife."There was a brief silence on the other end of the line."Excuse me?""I want a wife," he repeated coldly. "As soon as possible."The operator seemed to regain her composure."Do you have any specific requirements?"Jeong-Won reclined on the sofa, running a hand through his messy hair."She needs to be discreet. I don’t care about her past. I just need her to be convincing.""Understood. What is the purpose of the contract?"He smiled, a bitter, twisted grimace."I want my ex-wife to see me happy. I want her to regret leaving me."The operator didn’t seem surprised. She had heard it all on this line."Very well, Mr. Han. We will send you an appropriate profile within the next 24 hours."He hung up before he could overthink what he had just done.The weight of his decision settled in the air like an impending storm. Jeong-Won knew that this wouldn’t solve his life, but at that moment, making her jealous was the closest thing to a victory he could imagine.And when you have nothing left to lose, even a fake marriage can seem like an opportunity.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled Y/N's small apartment as Loki, her faithful white puppy, ran around her feet while she poured herself a cup and let out a satisfied sigh. Life hadn't been easy lately, but Y/N always found a way to keep her spirits up.Since her family had faced financial problems, Y/N had to take on unconventional jobs to make ends meet. That’s how she ended up registering with the New Marriage agency, a discreet but peculiar company that offered marriage services... by contract.The agreement was simple: temporary marriages lasting one year to cover personal or social needs of clients. Although the idea had seemed strange at first, the money was too good to turn down."It’s just a job, Y/N," she had told herself in front of the mirror the day she signed her contract as a "temporary wife candidate."The ringing of her phone interrupted her thoughts. She looked at the screen and saw the agency’s number."Hello?""Good morning, Miss Y/N. This is Min Seo from New Marriage.""Ah, hello," she replied, trying to sound calm despite her heart racing."We're calling to inform you that you've been selected for a special case."Y/N furrowed her brow."Special?""Yes. The client is Han Jeong-Won, a well-known music producer."Y/N couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. She had heard that name on the radio and in the news. A music genius, but with a reputation for being reserved and, according to rumors, difficult to deal with."And what’s the request?" she asked with curiosity."Marriage by contract, of course. Duration: one year. The client’s goal is primarily to make an impression in his social circle and, specifically, in front of his ex-wife."Y/N bit her lip. She wasn't unfamiliar with the extravagant cases the agency handled, but this request sounded more complicated than usual."An angry ex-husband? Sounds... interesting," she joked with a nervous tone."The client has made it clear that he needs discretion and a partner who can handle social situations with ease. We believe you are a perfect fit."Y/N sighed, looking at Loki, who was now chewing his favorite toy."Alright, I accept the offer."Min Seo smiled on the other end of the line."Perfect. We’ll send you the details for the initial meeting with the client."When the call ended, Y/N collapsed onto the sofa, petting Loki’s soft ears."Well, Loki, looks like mom just signed a deal with destiny."The dog barked happily."Yes, I think this is going to be crazy too."Unknowingly, Y/N was about to meet the loneliest man in Seoul, someone who didn’t believe in second chances. But maybe, with her cheerful spirit, she would be exactly what he never knew he needed.

Tell me if you like this story:3

The Call Masterlist

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 14, Silence after the storm

Masterlist Word count: 1.7 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Author's note: Homestretch baby! Just the epilogue left. Thank ya'll for reading this story, thank you so much for all the wonderful comments. I love you all so fucking much <3

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, mentions of domestic abuse, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

'As much as I love that you stood up for yourself. You can't just go around punching your ex square in the jaw.' Sylus looks like a kicked puppy sitting on the bench behind bars. His looks already tells you that he knows, he just doesn't want to admit it. 'Anyway, Zayne is paying your bail.' 

'You shouldn't let him do that.' 

'Sylus, baby, I love you, but you know I have no control over that man. He was already filling in the paperwork by the time I fully understood what happened.' As if on que, an officer walks over and unlocks the cell door. 

'Alright, get out,' he grumbles as he gestures for Sylus to make haste, 'your bail is paid and from what I can tell, that woman isn't pressing charges.' 

'Good, then can I press charges,' Sylus questions the man as he walks out of the cell. That surprises the officer. 

'What for?' 

'Did you watch the security footage?' The officer shakes his head. 'She attacked me first and I have it on file that she has attacked me before. I want to press charges and file for a restraining order.' 

'O-okay,' the officer stutters, 'follow me.' Sylus takes your hand and drags you along. You feel like you're gleaming. You've never been prouder of anyone in your whole dang life. It is so inexplicably hot to see him take his power back like this. 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

The drive home was tense. Incredibly so. It might've had something to do with Sylus’ hand between your thighs while he was driving your car, or maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the fact you told him he could do anything to you when you got home. You know, as a treat for being such a brave boy. 

By the time you got home, you were dripping wet and the tent in Sylus pants was undeniable. That's when he asked it. 

'You said I could do anything to you. Would you suck me off on camera?' 

'To post?' 

'Yes,' he answered quickly, a sly smirk on his lips as he took your jaw in his hand, 'you face doesn't have to be in it, but I want to show people how happy you make me. And maybe to claim you a little.' 

“Be still my beating vagina.” 

And now you are on your knees in front of Sylus. The whole thing looks an awful lot like the video he made when he first met you. 

Sylus on the edge of his bed, phone on the dresser recording, him fully clothed but some loose buttons on his shirt and his dick out of his pants. Only this time his head is in frame and only the top of your head is in it. Feels like a very strange full circle moment. 

'Take your shirt off for me, sweetie.' His voice is a rumbling command, which you had expected. He portrays himself much more dominant than he actually is, yet you can't help but give him the brattiest look you can muster up. He smirks and runs a hand through your hair, grabbing it tightly in the back and lifting a little. You quickly move with his motion as he tilts your had back. 'Are you gonna play nice for me?' 

Shit, that's so fucking hot. You nod as frantically as you can with his hand holding your hair. Since you didn't really want your likeness on the internet in this way, you agreed you wouldn't have to speak. 

He lets go of your hair and you sit back on your heels. His eyes never leave yours whiles you take your shirt off. 'Loose the bra.' You do as he says. 'Good girl.' This experience is already mouth and pussy wateringly good. You sincerely hope he'll take this role more often if you ask him to. 

'Well, what are you waiting for?' And even in this role, he tells you he's consenting but giving you all the power and looking at you expectantly to see your answer. It is the hottest thing and makes your stomach tingle. 

You move your mouth to his tip and press a kiss on top. He physically shudders, but tries to hide it a little. Then, you lick a stripe on the underside of his dick from the base to the tip, licking up his precum. He groans and puts his hand in your hair again. 

'Are you teasing me?' You don't answer, don't nod, you just bat your eyes at him looking oh so innocent. Before he can say anything else, you blow on his tip. The air out of your mouth feels razor sharp over his moist dick. Surprised, he lets out a whine, and then he looks back at you with fire in his eyes, daring you to do something else, screaming: "Try me." 

And you do. You move to his lower stomach, just next to his V-line, and bite down. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to elicit a hiss from him. In response, he pulls your head back, grabs your jaw with his other hand and forces it open. 

'That's enough, sweetie,' he states, 'choke on it.' Once again, there's a hint of question in his lust blown eyes. When you nod the slightest bit, he pushes you down on his cock, hitting the back of your throat in one swift movement. He holds you there for a while, still searching your eyes for any sign of wanting to back out. Instead, you try to force him down a little further until you feel yourself start to gag and his dick start to twitch. 

That's when he pulls you off. You take one look at him and know that he is already close. His ears and cheeks are bright red, pupils blown, breathing heavy. 'Go ahead, sweetie. You know what to do.' You nod again and slide one hand up to his chest, the other wrapped around the length that doesn't fit in your mouth as you start to set a steady pace. 

He takes the hand on his chest and presses a kiss to your fingertips. Strings of moans and groans start to fill the room as you tether him closer and closer to the edge. 'Come on sweetie, I'm almost there,' he whines, desperately chasing his release. 

You hollow out your cheeks and grab the hand in your hair with the hand that was around the base of his dick. He looks down at you questioningly, but quickly gets what you're getting at. 

"Use me." 

He starts bucking his hips into your mouth, forcing your head against him until you're almost swallowing him. It's a beautiful sight, slightly blurred by the tears stinging in your eyes. It takes mere seconds for him to fall over the edge. He pulls out of your mouth, but you hold it open, ready to take his release. 

'Shit, that's hot,' he comments quietly as you take all of his seed and swallow it. After a few seconds of heavy breathing, he leans down again and meets your lips in a passionate kiss. 'Thank you,' he breathes against your lips. His arm moves past you to stop the recording. Then, he guides you to come sit on his lap. 'Do you want aftercare or do you want more?' 

'Sylus,' you croak, not realizing the damage you've just done to your throat, 'that was the hottest thing I've ever seen. You're crazy if you think I want to stop here. Do you want aftercare?’ 

'Why would I want aftercare?' 

'Because you just forced your dick down my throat for the first time and I can imagine you might feel a little bit bad after that.' He smiles and pulls you against him, strong arms engulfing your body. 

'The only aftercare I need is returning the favor,' he whispers in your ear. 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

"Returning the favor" he said. Yeah, because one orgasm is synonymous with five. Four from his tongue and the last one with his dick. If you were croaking after that blowjob, you were surely croaking after all that. Sylus is not completely dominant, but if he were he'd be a fucking pleasure dom for damn sure. That man enjoys your orgasms more than you do. 

It's deep in the night, you are both spend. Sylus has his head on your shoulder, limbs entangled with yours as you run your hand through his hair and occasionally press kisses on his head and forehead. Soft conversation flows freely, waiting for either of you to fall asleep while both being too wired from the activities. 

'Does the "do anything to you" still count,' Sylus asks out of nowhere. You can tell there's something on his mind that he's been wrecking his brain over. 

'Depends.' 

'On?' 

'What you're about to say.' He takes a moment to consider what he's going to say and how he's going to say it. His arms tighten around your body, pulling you closer to him. Whatever he wants to discuss is something he is quite nervous about. 

'With all the steps I'm trying to take, I realized I forgot about one thing,' he starts. His mumblings soft, barely audible. 

'What's that?' 

'I realized I never asked you to move in with me.' The world stops for a second, Sylus’ heart beats out of his chest waiting for you to respond. Only for you to start giggling. He's confused, hurt. Is this rejection? 

'So you're going to make me move in with you?' He chuckles, understanding the humor in the situation. It's almost like a slap in the face. He was so sleep drunk that he almost forgot he started this conversation with the "do anything to you" line. 

The giggling dies down and you feel his hands caress the naked skin of your body, desperately awaiting your reply. 'Sylus, my apartment is basically a storage unit at this point. I'm already living with you. But, if you don't mind moving again, I'd like a place that's a little bigger if you are sure about this.' 

'I would move anywhere for you. I'll adapt to any place if you're there with me.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

Previous - Next (social media posts)

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

Taglist

@carmelves

@terriblesoup

@valkyyriia

@fvcknwww

@itsizumiiii

@ludwigsb0nker

@amywright

@frenchmess23yo

@malleus-draconias-rose

@deathkat657

@sweetnanah

@trishiepo0

@iraot

@nyxie-00

@sherlockstolemyname

@poptrim

@dummiebunny

@everythingistaken00

@ikesimpleton

@tyys-stuff

@venussakura

@crimsonlittlecrow

@raiyuxa

@pxxchyjjk168

@satansdaughter123

@nekee-lilac02

@brekkers-whore

@datfangirl

@datura109

@napa-the-yappa

@sinnamon-bunn

@waowo

@mrskuran13

@minnie-min

@blue-sky336

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

[grandiddyburp]

She don’t even gaf

[mastermindjo]

REDRAW yayyyy (no I'm NOT finishing this)

OMG IT'S RACHEL!!! oh and jefferson...

someone put this thing back in a cage

old sketches for yall

[cringefailkralie]

mfs when they see narrative foils who have the same disorder but one is the hero and one is the villain (im mfs)

[heliosunny]

I love your yandere aglaea fic!!! And I wanted to request (I don't know if u take requests or not if u don't want to u can ignore 😅) for a yandere castorise fic where reader is very happy go lucky kind of person and wants to be friends with her not knowing how obsessed castorise is with her

Have a great day!!! Byeee~

Yandere!Castorice x Reader

The first time you met her, Castorice stood at the threshold of your humble dwelling, her hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of lavender. There was something unsettlingly quiet about her, a stillness that made the air around her feel heavy, like an eerie lull before a storm. Yet, when she spoke, her voice was smooth, hypnotic, a whisper of wind through the trees.

"You are... unaffected by me."

It wasn't a question, but an observation. Her amethyst eyes, watched you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. You had heard whispers of her abilities- or curse, the way her touch left things wither.. And yet, as you stood there, bathed in the glow of fireflies and the gentle luminescence of your healing sanctuary, you felt nothing but curiosity.

"Well, that makes me special, doesn't it?" you said, beaming.

A hand reached up, brushing away a loose strand of hair from her forehead. The motion was slow, deliberate.

"Yes" she murmured. "Special."

From that moment, she kept coming back.

At first, she claimed it was for conversation, drawn by your warmth, your lighthearted laughter, the way you spoke to her as if she were merely a weary traveler and not something to be feared. You made tea, hummed melodies as you ground herbs, and treated her as if she were simply another patient. But beneath her calm demeanor, behind the gentle way she regarded you, there was a fixation that only deepened with each visit.

One evening, as you handed her a vial of healing tincture, your fingers brushed against hers. A jolt ran through you, not from any ability of hers, but from the way her lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

"You are kind" she mused, rolling the glass between her fingers. "Perhaps too kind."

"Is that a bad thing?"

She tilted her head, silver-lavender strands slipping over her shoulders like woven stardust. "It makes you fragile. Fragility invites ruin."

You laughed, lighthearted as always, brushing off her cryptic words. But you didn’t see the way her fingers tightened around the vial, nor the way her eyes darkened as she watched you turn away.

You were the only one immune to her power. The only one who saw her as something more than a shadow lurking in the periphery of existence. And in Castorice’s mind, that meant you were hers. You just didn’t know it yet.

One fateful night, a thief broke into your sanctuary, ransacking your supplies and leaving you battered and weak on the cold floor. You barely remembered the aftermath, your mind fogged with pain, but Castorice was there. When you woke, she was by your bedside, her fingers ghosting over your wounds as a chilling silence settled between you.

You never learned what happened to the thief. But there were whispers of a brutal reckoning in the dead of night, of someone who had disappeared without a trace. Castorice never spoke of it, and you never asked.

Life continued, and so did her visits.

One day, you invited her to a festival in town, eager to share something bright and joyful. To your surprise, she agreed.

That evening, as lanterns flickered to life and the scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider filled the air, Castorice walked beside you, a strange, unreadable expression on her face. You led her through the bustling streets, showing her colorful stalls and lively performances. At first, she seemed distant, her gaze flickering over the crowd as though searching for something unseen. But as you placed a sweet pastry in her hand and nudged her toward a game booth, she relented, indulging in the warmth of your presence. Of course, she kept her distance with strangers for their own good.

She watched as you laughed, your eyes alight with childlike excitement. She listened as you spoke about trivial things—your favorite foods, the silly little stories behind the trinkets you admired. And when you bought her a delicate silver hairpin shaped like a butterfly, she held it between her fingers, something almost softening in her expression.

"It suits you" you said, grinning. "You should wear it."

Her fingers traced the edges of the hairpin before she carefully tucked it into her hair. "You are foolish... Y/n.." she murmured, "to be so kind to me."

"Maybe" you said, undeterred. "But I like seeing you happy."

The night stretched on, and when the festival came to an end, you invited her to stay at your home. She accepted without hesitation.

As you settled into bed, exhaustion finally taking hold, Castorice sat beside you, her fingers lightly brushing against your hair. The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of your breathing.

"Sleep" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You are safe."

Something in her tone felt absolute, unshakable. As your consciousness faded, you felt the last sensation of her cool fingers tracing the side of your face, gentle, possessive.

[vigilxntesht]

𝙠𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙖𝙚-𝙗𝙮𝙚𝙤𝙠 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 — a sip of fate

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 — kang sae-byeok x female reader

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 — thank u all sooo much for the love on my no-eul fic i love u all

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 — 1.6k

𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚

your ordinary shift as a barista changes the moment she walks in—mysterious, distant, and impossible to ignore. when she returns, you can’t help but wonder: is this the start of something?

it’s a typical tuesday morning, and you’re perched at the bar of the coffee shop where you work. the afternoon drags on in near silence—hardly any customers, just the soft hum of the espresso machine and the occasional clink of a spoon against ceramic. you steal a glance at your phone to check the time: 3pm. a frustrated sigh escapes your lips as you resign yourself to what feels like an endless shift.

just as your boredom threatens to consume you, the little bell above the door jingles, signaling a new customer. you barely look up, expecting a regular, but the moment your eyes land on her, you freeze.

she’s tall, with short black hair and freckles scattered across her face like constellations. her gaze locks onto yours—steady and unwavering, causing your heart to skip a beat. you fake a cough, weakly trying to cover up your not-so-subtle reaction to her beauty.

you straighten up, offering her a polite smile. “hi! what can i get you to—”

“iced americano. no sugar.” her voice is sharp, cutting through yours before you can even finish. it takes you a second to adjust. oh. okay. you weren’t expecting that.

“um, sure, coming right up.” you mutter, clearing your throat. “you can grab a seat by the window if you’d like.”

she gives no response—just that same piercing stare before turning away and settling into a table near the window, as you suggested. you exhale slowly, only now realizing you’d been holding your breath. she stares at the wall in front of her, seemingly lost in thought as you begin to prepare her coffee.

you can’t help but steal a few glances in her direction. there’s something about her: something quiet yet intense, like a storm waiting to break. she seems so enigmatic, almost untouchable, and that only makes her more intriguing. then, suddenly, she shifts. her gaze moves from the wall…straight to you.

your breath catches. caught.

heat rushes to your cheeks as you quickly look away and focus on the coffee as if your life depends on it. she doesn’t react, doesn’t speak—she just continues to watch you, her expression giving away nothing.

after a couple of minutes, you call her over to the bar.

“hi, your coffee’s ready.”

she rises from her seat and walks over, her movements slow and deliberate. without meeting your eyes, she pulls out a five-dollar bill and hands it to you. you take it, exchanging it for her drink.

you offer a warm smile, hoping to crack through her cool demeanor. “thanks for your purchase. have a great day!”

nothing. no nod, no acknowledgement—just silence. she takes the cup and turns, walking straight out of the shop without another word. you watch as the door swings shut behind her, leaving behind nothing but the lingering scent of coffee and a spark of unexplainable curiosity settling into your chest.

you stand there in silence, replaying the brief interaction in your mind. that was… strange. she was beautiful—undeniably so. but before your thoughts can wander any longer, you shut them down. clearly, she didn’t like you. she barely even spoke, never smiled, not even a flicker of eye contact. whatever intrigue you felt definitely wasn’t mutual.

you finish your closing tasks, lock up the shop and start the walk home. you try to think about anything—literally anything—other than the mysterious girl from earlier. but no matter how hard you push her from your mind, she lingers. god, you’re embarrassing. you don’t even know her name. shaking off the thought, you focus on your night routine, trying to wash away the exhaustion of the day. a warm shower soothes your tired muscles and soon after that, you’re sinking deep into your sheets, the weight of sleep pulling you under almost instantly.

the next morning, your alarm blares loudly at 6:30am, dragging you out of your sleep with the subtlety of a jackhammer. you groan, rubbing your eyes before forcing yourself to get up. everything happens in a haze—brushing your teeth, getting dressed, and shoveling down a quick breakfast. you’re already running late for work, so there’s no time to waste. with barely a glance in the mirror, you braid your hair hastily, the strands uneven but good enough. then, grabbing your things, you rush out the door, your quick walk turning into a full-on sprint as you race to the coffee shop.

you finally arrive, completely out of breath. you ran harder than you’d meant to. stepping inside, you take a moment to scan the room. a few customers sit at their tables, chatting as they drink their morning coffee. but then your gaze lands on a familiar figure by the window, and your eyes widen.

it’s her.

the girl from yesterday.

she came back.

damn, you think, silently cursing yourself for not spending more time on your braid before. swallowing your nerves, you tie your apron behind your back, grab your notepad and start taking orders, your focus drifting towards her table with every step. when you finally reach her, she speaks before you even get the chance.

“iced americano. no sugar.” her voice is flat and emotionless, just like yesterday.

you let out a quiet chuckle as you scribble down her order. “you’re a woman of habit, huh?” you tease lightly.

silence.

for a split second, you panic, wondering if you’ve embarrassed yourself. but then, just as you glance up, you catch it—a barely perceptible twitch at the corner of her lips, a soft smile she quickly suppresses. it’s gone as fast as it appeared, but you saw it.

you prepare her coffee and bring it to her table. she doesn’t say a word, just takes the cup without acknowledgment. with nothing else to do, you turn back toward the bar, but you can’t help sneaking a glance over your shoulder. she sits there, motionless, staring out the window, pondering. you wonder what’s on her mind.

the bright morning sunlight streams in, casting a warm, golden glow across her face. it highlights her countless freckles, the gentle curve of her puffy lips, and for a moment, you just watch, absolutely captivated by the way the light seems to belong solely to her.

after she finishes her drink, she walks up to the bar. you look up, smiling politely.

“thank you. cash or card?” you ask, fully expecting the same icy silence as before.

but to your surprise, she speaks.

“you make a nice iced americano.”

her tone is so flat, so devoid of emotion, that for a second, you wonder if it was even a compliment.

“oh. uh, thanks.” you mumble, caught off guard.

she gives a small nod in response but remains still. she just stands there, her expression unreadable.

then, without warning, her gaze snaps up—sharp, intense—pinning you in place as if she’s seeing right through you.

you scramble for something to say, desperate to break the silence.

“do you… um�� want anything else?” your voice comes out softer than you intended.

she seems to snap out of whatever thought had her so distracted. her gaze flickers to the the floor, and she gives a small shake of her head.

“no, thanks. i’d like to pay.”

“oh, yeah, of course.” you say, taking the money from her, your fingers brushing against hers for half a second before she pulls away. and just like that, she heads for the door.

you watch her go, frustration and longing mingling in your chest. a sigh slips out as you drop your head in defeat. you should’ve said something—anything. so stupid. no wonder she barely looked at you.

however, just as she reaches the door, she drops the lid of her coffee cup. she pauses to pick it up, and before you can stop yourself, the words slip out.

“hey, wait! when… when will i see you again?” your cheeks burn instantly. too blunt. way too blunt.

she freezes, back still turned to you. the silence stretches on, long enough for regret to settle deep into your stomach. maybe she won’t answer at all. maybe she thinks you’re ridiculous.

but then—slowly—she turns. her expression is as illegible as ever, but there’s something different this time. a flicker of curiosity in her eyes that wasn’t there before.

“i’ll come back tomorrow.” she says simply. as she speaks, the corner of her lips lift in the faintest smirk. “…if you insist.”

you chuckle softly, relieved by the subtle shift in demeanor.

“ah, good,” you say. “i’ll have your iced americano ready by the time you get here.”

she nods, then takes a hesitant step forwards, extending her hand. “my name is sae-byeok. kang sae-byeok.”

your hand meets hers, and you lift up your gaze to hers. “kang sae-byeok,” you whisper with a smile. “that’s a pretty name.”

her expression stays neutral, but as you compliment her, a warmth creeps into her cheeks. her eyes, typically distant, now shimmer with something gentler—maybe even slightly flustered.

“goodbye. i’ll see you tomorrow,” she says in a noticeably softer tone.

in a swift motion to hide her blush from you, she turns towards the door. just before stepping outside, she glances back and offers you a small, genuine smile. you wave as she departs, your heart fluttering wildly.

standing there after she’s gone, you can’t help but replay the moment over and over. could it be that you just—kind of—arranged a date with her? the thoughts fill you with a heady mix of disbelief and joy. suddenly, the long work day ahead of you doesn’t seem so daunting. the exhaustion melts away, replaced by the promise of tomorrow. knowing that sae-byeok will be waiting for you makes everything feel a little brighter, a little more magical.

[arcadiaamber]

i giggled reading this btw... today i learned how pissed off i can get pricefielders

anyways... im not even gonna geti nto the first point because i cannot comprehend whatever the fuck ur saying so... 😭😭😭‼️‼️‼️

2. calling me a dumbass is so funny but anyways.. i get that they have their chemistry or whtv but its literally not like they NEED to get back together 😭😭😭😭😭 if anything id like it if they just stayed best friends.. b. reconnecting with chloe most likely would NOT help her move on from the past because chloe IS the past. (i mean seriously shes her ex have u ever felt a sapphic breakup that shit HURTS..) me wanting max to be able to move on from her past without chloe is not bias and actually comes from what i want to see in her character aka GROWTH.. i get she can grow with chloe but she can as easily grow by herself its not like being by yourself is inherently a bad thing LMFAO.. perchance her growing without chloe might be better.. the fact u went thru my posts like a fan flatters me but i promise you im not a d9 bootlicker i just enjoy double exposure like a regular person would.. also im a pricefielder, except i dont kiss dontnod's ass sooo.... there was zero "character assassination" for either of them in my opinion anyways. i think theyre both in character, max is still the socially awkward nerd but shes more confident and i think thats a great thing. chloe breaking up with max because of the fact she couldnt move on from arcadia bay is realistic of her and definitely shows her growth from her 19 year old self to her mid 20s self. i dont get why you want these characters to be one dimensional and stay stuck as the same person forever.. they were teenagers in lis1. they are going to grow and change thats life. also you pointing out that max broke space and time for chloe enforces my opinion that max is codependent on chloe. she doesnt care what it takes or even what happens to her she just wants chloe to be safe, and i dont really think thats HEALTHY.. but what do i know about healthy relationships...

3. i hope u realize i was half joking when i said it wasn't bias for safield.. like yeah i obviously have some bias but also its nkt completely unrealistic to hope that the next game focuses on the two main character's' relationship 😭😭😭😭 idk man i feel like ur going a little loopy..

4. again with the insults ijbol... i never said that actually i said that i would be happy IF that was the endings given.. i never said i wanted her to be attached to ANYONES hip 😭😭😭😭 and i quite literally said after that id rather her be by herself for a while WHICH AGAIN ISNT A BAD THING.

5. i dont know how u sat there, played all five episodes of lis1 and came out of there with the conclusion its about pricefield. if there wasnt any violence against young women committee by jefferson the game wouldnt have a plot. it wouldnt have a story.

mannn idk after reading allat im inclined to believe you wrote that seething, steam coming out of ur ears, whistling like a teapot because i didnt kiss dontnod's ass and actually have a mind of my own. the amount of delusion in that essay as well good lordddd 😭😭😭😭😭 this is my first and LAST time i respond to one of these bullshit responses cause ya'll spew so much shit out ur ass it baffles me how u guys actually think that...

this is probably going to be EXTREMELY controversial so i dont expect ANYONE to agree (please dont hate me 🙏🙏🙏‼️‼️‼️) but i REALLY DONT WNAT CHLOE BACK IN DE2. I HAVE REASONS!!!!!!!!

1. i think that it'll be viewed as a cash grab and like pricefield / chloe fans r never happy sooooo

2. if chloe and max were to get back together for some unforeseen reason i think that woukd ruin max's potential growth in de2 in my opinion. like i PERSONALLY think that her 'losing' chloe should help her move on from the past and should be portrayed as something that can help her move forward instead of dwelling on what could have been (as taylor swift once said, everything you lose is a step you take 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️)

3. i think she'd be so out of place and id rather have de2 focus on max and safi's relationship and this highkey sounds lkke bias because of my fixation but i PROMISE YOU its not.. mostly...

4. i think that max should grow by herself i really dont think she needs to be attached to chloe by the fucking hip.. like i would be so fucking ecstatic if you got to be with amanda/vinh/safi at the end of de2 but i think the most realistic ending would be for her to be by herself, not FOREVER, but for a good amount of time for her to be secure with being by herself because i personally think max is extremely codependent with chloe.. if .. that makes sense

[valiantverses]

Tremors II

-

Part I

A therapist's waiting room wasn't exactly the place to have the most engrossing conversations. People were usually jittery, tense, or straight-up despondent. Somehow, you manage to strike a strange sort of connection with the retired military couple that had the Thursday slot just after you anyway.

Trigger Warnings: Angsty. Mentions of medical conditions. Chronic pain discussion. Post couple argument. My characterisations may not be your cup of tea, they can be problematic, but hopefully in a realistic way.

A/N: Not gonna lie somebody sent me an Ask about Tremors and I had this written out the same day I read it lmao my brain is so monke

If you'd like to tag out of the tag list, just message "Tag out" in the notes!

His hands were shaking again. Callouses stretching and wrinkling together as he rested his hand on the doorknob. The metal was biting in the winter chill, but the physical sensation helped drag him back down to reality.

To his home— his actual home. Surreal still, after more than a decade of thin barrack mattresses and rocky dirt beneath thin sleeping bags. The one-story house was quaint in a way he never would've dreamt of living in when he was younger. His home, with its barely managed lawn. Creaking doors. Brick and dark woods— juxtaposed against the hard plastic wheelchair ramp next to the steps.

His home, where Johnny was waiting.

Rough fingers fall away from the doorknob. His head dipped as he exhaled sharply— burning shame, a semi-permanent grimace on his lips.

It had been a bad day for Johnny's chronic pain. A string of them, really. Simon could feel the exhaustion carved into his bones, the weight of caring for Johnny entrenched into his marrow.

Johnny was waiting —barely able to sit up and have breakfast today after waking up wracked with neuropathic pain— and Simon couldn't even bring himself to open the damn door.

Bitter miasma clawed at his gums, self-disgust brewing at his inability to be more human, more empathethic. At his desire to be away. At the way he wanted press pause. Johnny couldn't press pause— he could only wait.

A notification pops up on his phone. He doesn't check, knowing it'd be the therapy appointment app. Life was now just a cycle of doctor's appointments, tests, physical rehabilitation, bills, and therapy. He had gone from the steady drumbeat of barracks life to— this.

With a huff, he forced himself to open the door, as gently as he can manage so as no to wake Johnny in case he had fallen asleep.

They had never argued before the incident at the Channel Tunnel. But now, on bad days, when Johnny was in too much pain and Simon too frayed, tension would spark and light into flame. Ultimately they were former soldiers and fierce words, aggravated outbursts came naturally.

Sometimes the heated words would morph into the heated press of skin on skin, slick bodies and open mouthed kisses as they fought for control. Captured moans as their bodies sought purchase and rutted into each other.

Other times, like today, it would end in the gentle but firm closing of a door. Silent retreat as they distanced themselves. In the quiet of the after, where harsh words were mentally rehashed and their tempers reigned in— Johnny's a storm clearing, Simon's receding tides— the unspoken apologies as they met each other's eyes again, a silent covenant to try and do better.

Johnny was waiting.

The blond eased next to his sleeping form. Even asleep in their bed large enough to fit two well built men, his face was scrunched up in pain. Gently, Simon reaches out and smooths the furrow of his brow, powder- blue eyes opening hazily and meeting his. Then Johnny cracked a smile, leaning into Simon's touch.

"Ello' there. Been waitin'." He murmurs, voice thick with sleep.

Simon's answering chuckle reverberates through both of them "Hi." His chilled, calloused hands card through Johnny's hair. "Feelin' better?"

The hum he receives in response fills him with a quiet sort of relief. Johnny looked more serene now, with that light smile on his face. The last time he looked this peaceful was almost two weeks ago— talking to the pretty little thing at his counsellor's. Johnny had seemed to brighten in their presence, had even mentioned the interaction to the shrink jovially. It was the first time he'd had a proper conversation with a stranger since his brain injury. Simon nursed his pang of regret at cutting off the conversation so abruptly, but he had seen the reticence in Johnny's eyes and had felt his hackles rise, the need to protect so desperate—

The smaller man shifted next to him, voice muffled against the pillow "S'good of ye to run away everytime we have a row. Big of ye." His eyes sparkled with teasing.

Simon huffed, hands roaming against Johnny's skin as he pulls him to his chest, tucking his chin into the crook of Johnny's neck. Simon casually gestures at the shorter man's leg—it had to be augmented with metal bolts after the incident. Johnny could walk, but excess running would trigger his sensitive nerve endings. Simon's breath was warm against Johnny's ears as he spoke.

"Not like you could be the one running, ey, luv'?"

And then his head was being shoved into the pillow, Johnny laughing breathlessly. His arms were full of exasperated Scot as they both guffawed madly, the tension from that morning dissipating.

Later, when Johnny had drifted off again, Simon turned to tap at his phone and confirm their Thursday therapy slot. Unbidden, his thoughts drift to you. To how, inexplicably, you had managed to get Johnny to smile. He selects the same slot they got two weeks ago, hoping maybe it might mean running into you again. Seeing Johnny smile more. Then, his attention turns back to the sleeping Scot beside him.

Johnny was waiting, but he was never truly alone. He would always carry a piece of Simon with him.

[marise-art]

Oh to be kissing under a street light after planning to escape your shitty small town together

[lifeisstrange-incorrectquotes]

Chloe: I am going to drink this poison now.

Max: Ew.

Rachel: What are you? Five?

Max: Literally thousands of humans over the course of history drank poison and died.

Chloe: Okay. I am not thousands of humans over the course of history, though.

[crowshaped]

i like my yuri doomed

[skuroddls]

Environment study inspired by life is strange 🦋

[78miu]

runaways