#i wish i didn't have to pull myself back from anxiety attacks about work every night i wish going into work didn't make me nervous

[kai-anderson-whore]

Don't let them get to you (Tate Langdon x reader)

Summary: you come home from school having an anxiety attack and tate helps you

Warnings: anxiety attack, talks of struggles with anxiety, let me know if I missed anything 🙃

A/n: this was a request on wattpad

Taglist: @spill-the-t @iluwmycats @lili-tate @evanpeterswifeyy868 @jademunson @evanpetersfansblog @howtobesasha @lustforeverrrr @fand0mh03

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•. .•°˚˚°

Ever since you were little you always struggled with your anxiety. Sometimes going out the front door was a struggle and today was no different.

You had just got back from school the tears flooding your eyes, you felt like you couldn't breath the room felt like it was spinning. You hated this all because you struggled being out in public. Don't get me wrong a lot of times you are fine when coming back from school or outside in general but there was days were you just couldn't handle it.

Today was one of those days were your anxiety got the better of you. This morning you were fine in school then it hit you at lunch due to one of the popular kids giggling looking your way. You felt uneasy but tried to block the thoughts away so you didn't have a panic attack in the middle of the school.

Trying your best to wait till you were at home. Your knees tucked into your chest your hand covered your face not letting anyone see the tears stain your flushed cheeks. You began hyperventilating feeling like the air got sucked out your lungs. You hadn't realised that tate, your boyfriend since you moved in here saw how you crumbled not even in the door for more than five seconds.

Your body trembling as tate wrapped his arm around your shaking figure pulling you closer to him. His chin resting on your head "shhh it's alright your home now, I'm here it's okay baby" he whispered softly trying to ease you out of the current state you were in. You hated anyone seeing you like this especially tate.

But no matter how you didn't want anyone to see you like this body trembling, eyes puffy with tears, in a panic. Tate was there hand and foot to help you out of the state. He hated seeing you like this he felt like he would crumble whenever you were but he know fine well he needed to be there for you and he was.

His hand rubbing your back trying to soothe you, telling you that everything will be fine, that he's there. Eventually you calmed down you were reduced to nothing more than staggered breathing, red puffy eyes and dry throat. "I'll get you some water" tate said after he knew you somewhat calmed down.

You stayed glued to the ground your back against the wooden door. Tate came back with a bottle of cold water twisting the blue cap off bringing it too your lips. You took a few gulps like you were on a desert island gasping as you pulled away. Tate couldn't help but smile at you in hopes to cheer you up "thank you tate" you sniffled wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt.

"Don't mention it, wanna talk about it?" He asked holding you close till you head was on his chest, "just one minute I'm fine then I look at the popular girls in school and i think they are laughing at me then I get in my own head getting myself all worked up" you sighed feeling the tears begin to threaten to slip once again.

"Hey look at me" he said his hand cupped your chin so you could look at him. "Don't let them get to you. I know it's hard not to but when your like this it's playing into their hands" tate said you knew he was right you were letting them win when you got yourself this worked up over something so silly.

"I know but I can't help it tate I just wished I wasn't like this sometimes" you sobbed quietly your head back on his chest. "I know you can't help it y/n but I'm here for you every step of the way."

"How about we go to bed and watch a movie?" He asked.

All you did was nod your head at tates offer. Tate helped you up by the hand guiding you into your bedroom. "You want pyjamas on?" He asked as you peeled off your jacket. "Yes please" your voice sounded tired. Grabbing a comfy pair of pyjamas tate helped you out of your everyday clothes with your consent.

He started with your shirt peeling the fabric over your head then replaced it with the soft material of your pj's along with your bottoms. You were thankful to have someone like tate to help you get through all your anxiety attacks but at the same time you felt guilty for placing such a burden on his shoulders.

Tate helped you get under the covers grabbing your laptop afterwards. You opened up a random movie sight that let's you watch those flims not even released yet picking one at random tates arms around you snuggling into him.

"Everything will be fine now" tate softly spoke your eyes fixed on the screen yet a smile played on your lips.

"I love you tate"

"I love you too y/n"

[audelulu]

Covid Killed My Career

I think about my life before Covid a lot and how different my goals and aspirations were. I was still in my 20s, pursuing a career in what I thought was something I could really succeed in. I worked on events (creating them and also working them), was traveling cross country and getting paid to do it, and I felt like I really had a future in whatever it was I wanted to do next.

I drifted away from working solely in the music industry and photography but I stayed in the entertainment world. I was on track to do a lot of great things. Of course, that was before Covid hit. My goals and wants out of life were different and the trauma I endured was far less.

During the peak of covid, I watched a lot of folks suffer. I sat every day wondering if my dad would come back ill or if I would need to call a lawyer to bail him out of jail because they were rounding up any folks who were "out past curfew". I watched as POC got harassed and people who looked like me get accused of causing Covid. I was terrified that I'd get attacked going grocery shopping, so I concealed myself. Back then, when people still wore masks, this helped in making sure people didn't know what I looked like. I spent a good two years having anxiety and panic attacks, watching each attack happen through social media and the news. I had to explain to my new job why I didnt feel comfortable going into their very tiny office. Of course, they hadn't even considered that aspect because they were all white.

I had to pivot my career. I left one toxic work place after the next. I needed to move out because my mental health was suffering staying in environments that continued to disregard my boundaries. At this point in time, the only thing I was concerned about was "I need to make money with a remote job and I need to move out." For a minute it was fine, then I got laid off because I "didn't fit the culture" aka I refused to go into the office and brought up issues/questions which unfortunately didn't go with the flow and I simply was not interested in constantly hanging out with my coworkers.

I'm now at a job that's tolerable. It's probably the best I'm going to have in this climate. Nobody masks really and I still have to go in 1-2 days a week but at least the commute isn't too far and they don't question where I work from. It's not ideal but it's okay for right now.

It's not safe for me to be traveling due to covid, racism, misogyny, etc. I just don't think sacrificing my health is worth that anymore. I'm watching my best friend die a slow death due to long covid. I have learned there is much more than hustle culture. I don't want to BE working but if I had to - I wish I could have continued pursuing my past life..before covid. I slowly watched people pull away because they wanted to go back living their normal lives. Even completely cut me off because they didn't want to hear about it anymore, or about human rights issues, or about how absolutely fucked we are or how society has given up on the disabled/immunocompromised community.

It's sad. But I mourn the career and life I could have had. The version of me that was different than what I am now. I think a lot of people may share in this notion. All this to say - none of this truly matters. A death to a career I would have had is small fry compared to what else is happening but it still makes me sad that it could have come to fruition if the world, our governments and the powers that be didn't fail us.

[birrrrddddddyyy]

Im so fuckin anxious.

I had a terrible anxiety attack last night and ended up waking up my partner in the middle of the night. I just like unloaded everything I was scared about, from the missing messages with that girl that had a crush of them, to how it weirds me out that their other friend messages them at all hours of the night. I was a wreck. And they were wonderful about answering my questions and hearing me out and apologizing. But like.... I still don't feel fully reassured???? They were so patient with me. They ARE so patient with me. I feel like I'm fucking everything up. I feel scared that there's this great divide between us lately and I keep making it worse. I think they're gradually growing into a more secure attachment and I'm still stuck in my anxious disorganized. I should feel better right???? But I had nightmares that they left me for someone else. They were literally kissing them in front of me. And laughing at me. I feel like I failed them last night. My anxiety got too bad and it turned into a whole discussion AGAIN. I'm so tired of having these constant talks. Sometimes I wonder if we actually should be together or if this relationship is just trapping the both of us. But I love them. I see and feel us doing so well, even if things are hard recently. I just feel like I keep fucking things up. I don't know what's wrong with me. Last night I realized that instead of letting myself settle into their kindness I just laid there and thought about how life will be when they inevitably leave and abandon me. I dunno why my mind immediately went there, and I had to like literally challenge myself. For the first time, I realized I do that no matter what. If we fight, I mentally prepare for life without them. Even if we have a good productive convo and they show up for me , my mind still goes straight to how life will be without them. Or snarky cruel things to say, or it fixates itself on how I can get back at them if they hurt me. Because it's soo convinced that they will. I think I've been so deeply wounded in the past that I can't even fathom not being hurt by the person I love most. So when they show up for me and don't hurt me, and wanna do the work to love each other better ...it feels so scary and foreign. I know what to do with abuse and chaos, not this... not actual love.

Also my abusive ass ex was in my dream. He had a wife that I was trying to warn. She didn't believe me. Nobody believed me. That man is a r×pist. He abused me emotionally and mentally for months and then he assaulted me. He fucked me up. I think its obviously the shit he put me through that has scared me the worst. I knew the first relationship after an abusive one would be hard. But JFC this shit is like actually really really hard. It feels like every day I have to fight against my instincts to cut and run to protect myself. I get so so scared. No, I am scared. All the fucking time. And it's like no matter how much reassurance I get, or apologies from my partner when they mess up, or how well they show up for me, I still have it so deeply rooted in myself that they're going to harm and abandon me. That's so unfair to them, I really wish I could just turn my fear off and believe them. I was literally single for FOUR YEARS because of the trauma my ex put me through. I thought I was passed most of it if not all of it. But here I am at six am writing the longest damn vent of my life, wondering when the pain is going to end. Wondering why it's still hurting. Wondering if my pain is unfair to my life partner. The love of my life. It is unfair to them in a way. I wish I knew how to just move on. I wish it didn't still hurt. But being in a relationship again means pressing up against the sore spots. My trust, my fear of abandonment, my anger. Sometimes I feel like Im pulling myself apart piece by piece, to sew myself into a new shape. I'm not the person that I was when I was hurt. That person is dead. Sometimes I feel like Im cutting myself open and ripping out the rot. Then I'll leave it all out to sit in the rocks for birds to pick at.

I feel so vulnerable. I need to be vulnerable.

[sleeping-on-cracking-ice]

Hey! Can you write something with Chishiya and Y/N when she almost died in game beacuse of Niragi but didn't tell anyone about this (he tripped her on purpouse or smth). Chishiya finds her up on the roof few days later really anxious+crying beacuse her visa is ending and she is scared that Niragi will come and play the same game as her and will try to do something bad. Chishiya becames really protective over her especially when he sees her bruised knees.

Here you go!

Comfort Zone | Shuntaro Chishiya

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character(s): Chishiya (ft. Niragi, OC’s, Hatter)

Summary: You came close to dying due to being attacked by Niragi, and you fear it will happen again during the next game. Chishiya notices your anxiety and tries his best to prevent it from happening.

Warnings: mention of murder, swearing, blood, violence (punching)

Word Count: 3.9k

*reader is female

“Just my luck,” you groaned out, lifting yourself to your feet by using a chair nearby for leverage. “Not only am I clumsy as fuck, I’m also stuck with a group of murderers.”

Hatter had suggested you go with a few of the militants for the next game, as he wished for them to test you to see if you were capable enough to join them.

It was a hearts game called Capture The Flag. It was very self explanatory. You had to capture the opposite team’s flag and bring it back to your base without getting killed by them. The game would continue until a flag was captured, and the losing team would have their small bomb strapped to their chest explode as soon as the flag was returned to the team’s base. So theoretically, you could die at any second. And if that wasn’t stressful enough, everyone carried weapons, ranging from machete’s to revolvers, so you were on high alert.

You were on the same team as a muscular militant woman named Ren and a much younger kid (he looked around fifteen years old) called Minato. But of course, Niragi had to be placed on your team, bringing you nothing but more trouble.

The room you stood in was dark and ominous. You managed to trip over a few shards of glass and impact on the ground heavily, causing your hip to throb in pain as you attempt to recover from the fall.

You had been separated from your group. You managed to sneak off without them noticing, just rather being on your own than with others. You thought you had a better chance by yourself anyway, as no one was there to betray you.

In the Borderland, you didn’t know who to trust, so you kept to yourself.

The brightness of your game phone flashed a light green, reminding you of what colour team you were on. You had to search for a base that was illuminated by a blue light and take the flag that was supposedly meant to be there. But so far, you hadn’t seen any indication of the other team. You hadn’t even seen any of the other players now that you thought about it.

You made your way out of the empty room you had just checked, peeking around the corner down the hall before stepping out of the doorframe. The small  bomb strapped to your chest over your shirt felt heavy on your frame, especially knowing that it held your life in its hands.

You sighed loudly and rubbed your hands together to relieve the tension in your muscles slightly. You had to be close, surely. You had been walking around the abandoned hospital for ages, as if you hadn’t at least walked past the enemy’s base and missed it somehow.

Just as you were about to turn the corner to the main corridor, a whispered grunt made you stop in your tracks. You held your breath and pressed yourself against the cold wall next to you, trying to listen to any movements they make.

The sounds of rustling met your ears, making you frown. It sounded like someone was trying to find something in their pocket, moving around the objects until they’ve found what they need.

You slowly peeked one eye around the corner, making sure not to accidentally hit the wall or fall forwards in fear of the person being an enemy player. Good news, it wasn’t. But seeing someone on your team wasn’t much reassurance either, as all three of them seemed to be clinically insane.

Niragi was crouching over a dead body. A game phone was thrown to the side on the ground a few feet away, emitting a bright blue light. The dead person must have been on the blue team.

The blood pooled around the body, Niragi’s boot being in one of the puddles.

‘Why didn’t I hear the gunshots?’ you asked yourself, watching as Niragi rummaged through the pockets of the guy’s jacket. He was probably looking for another weapon or perhaps something to assist him in the game.

Your eyebrows furrowed when you noticed a slight blue tinge on the fabric of Niragi’s shirt. You turned your head the other way down the hall, eyes lighting up at the sight of a bright fluorescent blue light coming from around the corner. That must’ve been the enemies base.

You glanced back quickly to Niragi, noting he was busy with the corpse, still searching through their pockets. Perhaps you could make it if you were quiet enough.

You slowly lifted a foot while keeping your eyes pinned to the man down the hall, ready to dive back behind the wall if he decided to turn around. When your whole body had left the comfort of the darkened hallway you came from, you turned and quickly shuffled down the hall towards the light, looking over your shoulder every now and then.

When you had turned the corner, you let out a sigh in relief. “Fuck,” you rasped out, wiping your sweating brow with the back of your wrist. “If only I came with Chishiya, I wouldn’t be so cautious.”

You entered a room a few steps in front of you that had a door slightly ajar with the blue light pushing through. You squinted your eyes as you opened the door at the brightness of the light, covering your eyes and hissing lightly.

When your eyes adjusted, you felt a euphoric feeling fill your body when you caught sight of the blue flag resting against the wall. You immediately scrambled over and gripped the wood, feeling the sweet ecstasy of victory and being able to live another few days.

You walked out of the room flag in hand. But as soon as you exited the door, your game phone rang loudly, making you freeze in your spot.

“Green Team has now obtained Blue Flag.”

Your breath became lodged in your throat and you felt your fist tighten on the flag pole. If the game announced it to the rest of the players, they were going to come after you.

Your fear was proven correct when you heard loud footsteps down the hall, making its way to your position. You knew it was Niragi, but the fact that he was on your team gave you slight reassurance. He wouldn’t hurt someone he’s meant to be working with, right?

You couldn’t be so sure, so you pulled out the fairly sized knife that you had sneaked into your pocket before leaving for the game. There was nowhere you could run. Down the hall was the only exit you had.

Before you knew it, the angered face of Niragi turned the corner and you locked eyes. He glanced down at the large knife you held at your side, then at the flag. A smirk painted on his face and he chuckled cockily.

“You think you can defend yourself with that piece of shit?” he asked you, taking a few threatening steps towards your frame. Your feet remained planted on the ground, trying not to appear as panicked as you actually were. “Everyone’s going to come here, and you’re going to fend them off with a kitchen knife?”

You felt belittled from his mocking, eyebrows furrowing in frustration. “The fuck else am I supposed to do?” you asked, pointing the tip of the knife in his direction.

Silence filled the air as you and Niragi had a stare down. The grip he held on his rifle tightened whenever you shifted, never failing to make your heart skip a fearful beat.

“Princess,” he started with a sickening pet name, “why don’t you give the flag to me? I’ll protect you.” His sudden change in mood gave you whiplash and you took a step back in confusion, still holding your weapon towards him.

“What?” you muttered out, a bamboozled expression on your face. “I said, pass the flag to me. I’ll make sure we’ll be okay,” he answered while slinging his gun to his side a bit too casually for your comfort.

You watched as he fiddled with the bullet compartments of his rifle. He seemed to have been checking the ammo, making you realise what he was intending.

You shook your head, trying to sound normal, but the slight shakiness in your voice made you quite obvious. “It’s fine Niragi,” you insisted, “I can get it to our base myself.”

He glanced up at your frame as he closed the bullet compartment to his rifle. His serious expression made your adrenaline kick in and your hands began to shake, becoming obvious from the way the tip of the knife was quivering.

“Fine,” he muttered out, basically snarling at you. “I’ll do this the hard way.”

His words made your expression drop and before you could even think, Niragi swung the butt of his rifle and socked you across the side of your head, making you fall to the ground abruptly and drop the blue flag. You groaned in pain, and yet you didn’t even get a second to recover before Niragi blew another hit to your shoulder, kicking you harshly in the stomach at the same time.

You suffocated on nothing, becoming winded from his kick. Gasping for air, you attempted to crawl away from the violent man, shuffling on your hands and knees. Another hit to your lower back brought you to your stomach and you gagged at the sudden feeling.

Luckily, Niragi had quit abusing you and reached down next to your bruised body to pick up the blue flag. “Maybe next time, be careful what you say to me,” he hissed into your ear before standing up and walking away from you.

You laid on the floor for a short moment, trying to compose yourself and control your breathing once again. When you finally came to your senses, you lifted yourself up from the ground while groaning in pain. You had to find a hiding spot, otherwise the Blue Team would find you at their base and kill you.

You used the wall for support as you stood up, bones cracking and blood dripping down the side of your face. You lifted your hand and pressed against your throbbing head, wincing as the pain rocketed from your action.

‘At least he didn’t kill me,’ you thought to yourself. A bright shimmer caught your eye and you turned your head to see your weapon laying on the ground. A grumble left your body as you leant down to pick it up, admiring the way the blue light reflected off it.

You leant against the wall and slowly made your way down the hall, searching for a small cabinet or anywhere that you could hide for the next ten minutes or so. You got a wave of relief when you spotted a cleaner’s cupboard just down the corridor, stumbling towards it.

When you pulled yourself inside the dark cupboard and closed the door, you allowed yourself to slide down against the cold wall, feeling a few tears slip from your eyes.

All you had to do was wait for Niragi to get the flag back to the Green Base and you would be fine, hopefully.

***************

You dragged your exhausted body towards your hotel room, your legs throbbing in pain at every step you climbed. You had decided against going back to the hotel in the car with the other militants, as you didn’t want to deal with the tension of sitting next to the man who almost killed you. Plus, the car would hold half the amount of people it left the hotel with, probably making the atmosphere more eerie.

The door of your hotel room felt heavy as you pushed it open, stumbling into the cold room. You groaned in frustration at your past self. Why didn’t you leave your heater on before you left?

You let out a deep sigh before falling backwards onto your bed, spreading your arms out wide to feel the comforting blankets underneath you. Your eyes closed in content, trying so hard to ignore the pain on the side of your head and your knees.

The blankets shifted underneath your tired frame as you rolled over, pulling the duvet over yourself in the process. You didn’t even have the energy to turn your body so you could place your head on the pillow, so you simply slipped into unconsciousness in the position you laid in, hoping for a better day to come tomorrow.

Whilst you travelled to dreamland in your mind, a short blonde man stood outside your door, knocking lightly on the wood. When Chishiya received no response, he lightly turned the silver door knob and peaked his head into the room. A soft sigh of relief left him when you saw you safe and sound, asleep on your bed. He had been worried from how you were acting as you slumped to your room, noticing that you seemed more tired than usual.

Chishiya walked into the room and quickly shut the door behind him, holding the doorknob until it was completely shut to avoid the clicking noise. He tip-toed towards your frame and admired your sleeping self, his lips curling up at the sight.

“Get some sleep love,” he whispered, running the back of his hand softly down your cheek to sooth you. “You need it.”

Before Chishiya left the room, he tucked the blanket tighter around your body so you stayed warm and gave you a soft peck on your forehead. He glanced back once more before stepping out of the room. He headed back to his own hotel room to get some sleep, feeling content that the person he cares for most was okay.

**************

As the days of your visa grew fewer, your dread grew bigger. Thoughts from your last game bounced around your head, continuing to come back to you in the most random of times. Sometimes you would feel an imaginary harsh kick to your back in your dreams, causing you to wake up abruptly, covered in sweat. You couldn’t escape the fear of Niragi attempting to kill you again. If you managed to run into him again like in the last game, it would be a guarantee that he wouldn’t let you off the hook again.

Just the thought of Niragi blasting a few bullets from his sniper through your head brought you the irrational belief that that was your future. No matter how hard you attempted to shake it, it found its way back into your mind.

The stars shone in the sky, glistening against the endless ceiling of darkness and winking at you from above. It felt foreign to see such sights in the world you lived in, where everything seemed to hold some kind of darkness behind it. Even the label of ‘Utopia’ on The Beach was a complete lie.

You huffed in a stressful tone, hanging your head low and rubbing your eyes with your hands as you leaned your elbows on the railing. The minutes before the next game were becoming less and less. If only you had one more day on your visa, you could potentially avoid all the bullshit that Niragi brought with him everywhere he went.

Hatter had informed you that Niragi was taking you to another game, as he didn’t get to properly assess your skills last time. He was making you go because that night was the night your visa ended. You didn’t have a choice.

Before you knew it, small droplets of tears escaped your eyes, cascading down your face and dripping off your chin. You felt helpless and scared. You could do nothing but wait for the fire alarms to ring to indicate Hatter’s speech before everyone left for their own games. It felt like your time on the roof was lasting forever, so you tried to drag out your time there as long as you could.

You closed your eyes and lifted your head high, letting the cold air swim around your face and bring you comfort. “This isn’t fucking fair,” you stated bluntly to yourself.

It wasn’t. Why did the world think you deserved this kind of stress? You never asked to be in the Borderland. You never asked to be involved with these people. Why did you have to be thrown into this mess?

The sound of light footsteps ripped you from your thoughts, causing you to whip your head around and lock eyes with Chishiya, who froze a few metres away. Your face visibly relaxed at the sight of your boyfriend, smiling weakly as he lifted his hands in defence from your paranoid actions.

“Hey Chishiya,” you greeted him, turning your back and wiping your tears from your eyes. “Sorry, I’ll be down soon. Just give me a minute.”

Chishiya frowned at your shaky voice, approaching your frame and placing a soft hand on your shoulder. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You turned your face to him and his eyes displayed concern as soon as they met with your teary ones. “Wait, baby why are you crying?” he asked, placing a hand on the small of your back and another cupping your cheek to make you look at him.

You shook your head and gave a fake smile, not wanting to tell Chishiya what had happened. “It’s fine. I’m just getting a bit stressed for tonight.”

Chishiya eyebrows furrowed at your answer, noticing how you bit your lip after your sentence. You only ever did that when you were lying.

His eyes glanced up towards the small gash on the side of your head. “How did this happen?” he questioned you, lifted his hand to run a gentle thumb over the injury. You glanced at him nervously as he waited for an answer.

“Oh that? It’s nothing. I just managed to trip over and smack my head on the wall during the last game. You know me, such a clumsy idiot,” you tried to laugh it off.

Chishiya didn’t buy it for a second. He moved his gaze to the rest of your body, searching for any more injuries. He had had enough of your lying when he saw your bruised knees, dried blood around the edges of small cuts from earlier when you accidentally reopened them.

“Y/N, what happened the other day? Who did this to you?” Chishiya asked in a serious tone, wrapping his hands around your neck and holding you protectively. “These look bad Y/N. I’ll have to treat them for you.”

You nodded, looking down at the ground. Chishiya lifted your chin with his finger to make you have eye contact. “You going to tell me what happened?”

You let out a big sigh, accepting the fact that you can’t hide literally anything from Chishiya. He knew you too well.

“Look, it’s fine Chishiya. Niragi just got mad at me during a game. You know how he is. I’m honestly glad that he didn’t do anything else,” you explained, watching as Chishiya’s face contorted into anger at your confession.

He fell silent, making you more tense. You knew Chishiya was really aggravated when he went completely silent.

“Niragi did this to you?” he asked scarily calmly, running a soft hand over the gash on your head again. You nodded, leaning against his touch.

“Alright. You stay with me tonight. I don’t care what Hatter has asked from you. You stick by my side and don’t let go of my hand,” Chishiya demanded you, pulling you into a comforting hug. You tucked your face into his neck, breathing in his scent.

“I love you,” he whispered out, giving you a soft smooch on your cheek. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

You shook your head in denial. “Don’t be baby. You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

Chishiya smiled happily at your words, pulling back from the hug and giving you a loving kiss on your lips. You both held each other close, moving your mouths against one another’s intimately.

You felt safe in Chishiya’s arms and he felt safe in yours. And that’s where both of you were intending to stay as long as possible.

****************

You sat on Chishiya’s small bed, admiring as the young man wiped carefully over the dried blood on your knees. He was being so careful, holding you by the underneath of your knee and making sure not to press too hard on your bruises.

You had returned from the game you attended with Chishiya. Before the game commenced, you both hid on the roof so Niragi or Hatter wouldn’t come looking for you, wanting to take you to the game. You waited until most cars had left before making your way down to the bottom floor, climbing into the last car together that only held two other people you didn’t know.

Chishiya made sure to keep you by his side the entire game, not letting go of your hand once. At some point you were afraid he was going to sacrifice himself for you, as he wasn’t acting too far from it. His protective side had kicked in and he wasn’t taking your situation lightly.

At some point you both had to hide from an attacker. Chishiya had shoved you both into the corner of a small room, shielding your entire body with his with both of his hands against the walls, keeping you trapped in and hidden. The action alone was enough to make you realise how much Chishiya actually cared, how afraid he actually was of losing you.

“All done,” the blonde announced, breaking you from your thoughts. You grinned as he glanced up at you, giving you a cheeky wink. He shifted up the bed and leant against the headboard beside you. “Are you okay?” he asked once again, his fingers lightly running along your thigh soothingly. You nodded, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about Niragi,” Chishiya reassured you after a short moment of silence. You looked up at him from his shoulder. “Why not?” you asked.

Chishiya gave a cocky smirk and ruffled your hair playfully. “I’ll make sure to give him a piece of my mind,” he said in a monotone voice as usual.

You chuckled at his words before placing a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. “I’m sure you will,” you laughed.

Chishiya smiled happily and turned his body. He picked you up slightly and made you lie down before placing himself next to your frame. You rolled over to face him, not even getting a chance to breath before his lips were on yours.

His kiss was passionate, running his tongue along your lips to ask for you to open them. You obliged, letting him have his way with you. You ran your fingers up underneath his shirt, feeling his warm skin shiver underneath you touch. He groaned at the feeling, pushing himself closer to you and placing one hand on the back of your neck while the other dragged lazy patterns along your bare hip.

You two held each other close, getting lost and drunk on the thoughts and feelings of one another. No one could make each of you feel the way you made each other feel. In Chishiya’s arms you felt safe and content, making all the terrible things around you disappear. And for Chishiya, you made him feel sane again. You made him remember that he was human, he was allowed to have human emotions and make mistakes.

You brought a sense of comfort to one another, and clearly Chishiya wasn’t willing to let anything come between you both.

[shotosgaychangemymind]

words fail

___________________________________________________________

Oikawa x Iwaizumi

genre: angst

warnings: cursing

summary: a simple annoyance causes every word that Iwaizumi has wanted to say to come tumbling out.

a/n: @dearazumane i hope this is kinda what you wanted :)

___________________________________________________________

After searching the building for a solid 5 minutes, Iwaizumi finally find the person he's been hunting for: Oikawa. The idiot was supposed to walk home with Iwaizumi, but disappeared before he could change.

Now, he was found chatting it up with his fan girls. They were always hanging around somewhere after a game--and practice most of the time--and Oikawa normally just thanked them for coming and left it at that. But, today, he was talking with them as though they had been his friends longer than Iwaizumi.

One thing about Iwaizumi: he hated when Oikawa would stay behind to talk to groupies. And today was no different. Fuming, his footfalls heavy as he marched towards Oikawa, he grabbed the other by the wrist and pulled him along. "Come on, Shittykawa. We're leaving."

"Aw, but Iwa-chan, I was having such a good conversation with them," Oikawa pouted, trying to turn back to his groupies.

"I don't care. We were supposed to leave a while ago, so lets go," Iwaizumi stated, no room for argument. Oikawa knew when he got like this, it was pointless to try and change his mind so he just let it go and followed Iwaizumi willingly.

Stepping into the gym to grab their bags, Oikawa realized they were the only two left. Using that as an opportunity, he decided to finally speak his mind. Turning towards Iwaizumi, he said, "You know, you don't really have a right to control who I talk to."

Iwaizumi's face twisted into offence. "What?"

"Every time I go to talk to people, you always get mad and pull me out of it. It's annoying and you don't get to control me like that," Oikawa started to shout, staring his best friend directly in the eyes.

"I'm not controlling who you talk to. Those groupies of your are just annoying and talk too much. I don't want to have to wait around forever for you," Iwaizumi said. He was trying to maintain his usual nonchalant composure, but having his best friend come after his character like that caused a wincing pain in his chest.

"Then don't wait for me. No one said you had to wait, just let me live my life." Examining his face, Iwaizumi could tell Oikawa was furious at the moment. After years of being so neglected and hated as a person, Oikawa finally had a group of people that wanted to be around him, wanted to get closer with him. Yet, his best friend was pushing them away. His best friend wouldn't let him soak in the compliments so desired and was deprived of earlier in life. His best friend wouldn't let him create a better life for himself; he wasn't allowed to live his life.

"Oikawa, we've been walking home together for years. I'm not just going to stop because of some fangirls," Iwaizumi stated, his voice starting to betray his composure slightly. To him, Oikawa was suggesting breaking a tradition just to have a simple conversation with an airhead. He felt like Oikawa was abandoning him; leaving him in favor of a group that always makes him feel welcome.

"Then it won't kill you to hang around for a few minutes while I talk to them."

"But there's no reason to, it's always the same thing anyway." Iwaizumi was drifting back into his usual defense mechanism: insulting. "They only talk to you to praise you for the most simple things, it's not like any of you have actual conversations."

"I need that! I need the praise, Iwa. If you can't deal with that, then there's a bigger problem," Oikawa shouted. His eyes were becoming red and watery, tears threatening to drip down his red cheeks.

"Maybe there is something else, Oikawa. But you never look away from yourself long enough to realize that!" Iwaizumi was shouting now, too. His own anger manifested itself in his clenched fists, fingernails digging into the palm of his hand. The words he had just spoken were a direct attack to his best friend's character, something Iwaizumi had never done before. But, it needed to be said; he couldn't keep making this a one-sided thing. Yet, he was horrified at what just came out of his mouth. Horrified for the reaction, but mostly scared of the explanation he's going to have to give.

No longer holding back his tears, Oikawa responded, almost in a whisper laced with bitterness, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh my fucking god, Oikawa. Do I really have to explain it to you?" Iwaizumi pleaded, hoping he wouldn't have to speak the words himself. However, through his clouded vision, he could see that Oikawa was latching on to his eyes, looking for an answer. And he gave it: "Ever since we were kids, all I've wanted was for you to see me. I wanted to be the one person you would confide in; the only person you would run to when you needed something. I fucking loved you, okay? Maybe I am just being a jealous bitch, but seeing you flock to those girls so they can validate you makes me want to puke."

Every possible emotion was flowing through both people standing in that gym. The walls bouncing their argument between them, creating a slight echo as all hope was drained from both parties. Each felt remorse for their old actions. Each felt the pain that the other was conveying, clinging on to any sign that they will be able to repair their relationship. In the quiet gym, the sound of pounding hearts and racing breaths could be heard. It was deafening; the anger and anguish spreading throughout the space with every beat.

"I'm sorry," was all Oikawa could manage to get out. His voice cracked and his hands shook, abandoning the bag they were once holding. "I-I didn't know...I w-wish I knew."

"Of course you didn't know. You were so caught up in your own life and your own relationships, you never took the time to step back and look at ours," Iwaizumi explained. Even though the hardest words he ever thought he would have to speak were out, he couldn't stop the anxiety that flowed through him. Every part of his body was tremoring in anticipation for Oikawa's words.

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry Iwaizumi. Here I am, pushing you away because I thought everything was so one-sided," Oikawa chuckled a little, wiping at his eyes. "I ran to people who wanted me because I thought you didn't. I spent my whole fucking life pining over you, and I didn't want it to take over anymore. I'm sorry."

"Save it." He had finally heard the words he's been dreaming about for ages, but Iwaizumi couldn't take it. His shaking had ceased, numbness filling the place of the anxiety. "Just....save it, Tōru. I can't spend the rest of my life following behind you like I have. I can't sit here and watch you flirt with everyone or say you don't have people who appreciate you when I'm right here. I just can't do it anymore."

"Iwa.....I-. Please just..." Oikawa thought for a second. His sobbing filled the gym, the angry heartbeats replaced by aching ones. "I love you. I just listened to you tell me that, too; you can't just leave now! I'm sorry for every single thing I've ever done to make you feel like you were just following behind me, but please Hajime, just stay. We can try and see where things go. We can fix-"

"There's no fixing it! There's no way to patch this up, Oikawa. We can't fix each other. We don't work together; years of trying to stay in a friendship taught us that much. No matter how much you mean to me, no matter how important being around you is for me, I can't keep doing it. I love you so fucking much, but I have more respect for myself than to let it take over my life."

They met eyes, each set pleading for the other's understanding, pleading for a compromise. But, they both knew what was going to happen.

Iwaizumi couldn't find it in himself to look at Oikawa's broken heart any longer; the puffy, bloodshot eyes and excruciatingly hopeless expression being too much to bear. "I'm sorry."

With that, Iwaizumi reached down with a shaking hand to grip onto his bag. His hand clutched the straps as though they were the only things keeping him from falling, life suspended solely on their strength.

"Please, Iwa-chan," was the only thing Iwaizumi heard before he stepped out of the building. The words were filled with agony, laced with plea. They were the last words that held any meaning for their lives together, the last hope.

"Please."

[aries-rising-on-an-aquarius-tide]

Spoilers: Law & Order: Conviction (2006), Lead, Ripped, Venom, Fault, Informed, Infiltrated, Philadelphia, Florida, Screwed, Paternity, Inconceivable, Undercover, PTSD, Perverted

Trigger warnings: alcohol, references to death, casual sex, murder, pregnancy, childlessness, adoption, PTSD, nightmares, dissociation

Evocations: XIX

If there is only one thing to know, it is this: The woman who exited Witness Protection in 2006 was not the woman who had once been the sharpest Special Victims Unit ADA in New York.

The death of Valez and the extradition of Connors that had permitted her freedom from anonymity also left Alexandra with a life bitten ragged around the edges. Her relationship with her father was never the same; as grateful as he was that his daughter was alive and well, the knowledge that Darcie had gone to her grave thinking Alex was dead was a deep scar to bear.

Everywhere she looked, there was a life she had begun building and then abandoned like a child grown bored of a toy. In Wisconsin, there had been Greg, in her second placement, another man left behind like Alex was some mythical creature they outgrew as they slumbered.

Only men, however - never another woman. It was an edict that had written itself beneath Alex's skin, without deliberation or protest.

She returned to Manhattan without much thought as to whether it was the best idea. It was where she had started her career, so logically it was where she had a professional reputation; not many strings had to be pulled to get herself up and running again. Bureau Chief Cabot had a fine ring to it, even if she did have to supervise a group of newbies chomping at the proverbial bit.

But make no mistake - it was as far from SVU as Alex could get. The soft, hopeful blonde that had dreamed of a life with Olivia Benson, who had grown up privileged and hungry for everything she could get from the world was no more. The Alexandra who resettled in Manhattan was buttoned-up, distrustful, and in it for the win rather than the moral high ground.

The new Alexandra was a woman who used sex to satisfy her need for contact and not much more; who chose her relationships for ease of placement, not depth. When she got lonely she had flings, and when one of those flings turned into an engagement, Alex shrugged and kept up appearances.

She had been Bureau Chief a little over a year when the phone calls started coming. The number she didn't recognize, but the voice on the message had turned her insides into a hot, riotous mix of desire and anxiety.

"Uh hi . . . Alex. It's Li - Olivia. I'd heard you've been back, so I wanted to call and see if you . . . how things are going. Call me back . . . if you want, y'know. You can use this number. Bye."

Olivia's voice on that first message was hesitant, nervous, fumbling. Alex heard all of the unspoken questions holding space between the carefully chosen words: How long have you been avoiding me? Are you okay? Have you forgotten me? Alex let the message sit for a week before deleting it in a moment of weakness, locked in her office drinking bourbon and letting her fingers dance over the phone receiver in entertainment of the idea of calling Liv back.

The second message appeared about two weeks after that.

"Alex," it began, and the put-on confidence made the blonde wonder if Olivia was drinking that time, herself. "Please just give me a call and let me know you're okay. I'm not looking to impose myself on your life."

As cold as it seemed . . . as it probably was, Alexandra still didn't pick up the phone. The illusionary distance that was still between herself and Liv was the only barrier that held firm her new persona. The Alex who didn't want to feel, didn't want to get too close to anything - not people, jobs or cases.

Next it was Elliot who called. Alex had wondered if they were still sleeping together as she listened to Elliot's low voice skirt the boundary of anger and pleading. Had Olivia asked him to call, or had he called on his own after a couple months of watching Liv gaze hungrily at the phone?

Either way, Alex still wasn't swayed. Her career as Bureau Chief ADA plodded forward, and the only time she spoke with Olivia was in her dreams. Another year passed that way, with the calls coming less and less often. Alexandra ended her engagement along the way - an act of mercy, she told herself.

Then another year, until at last she had been out of Witness Protection for three. She couldn't have known that the next time the phone would ring, it would be Jack McCoy. He, too, was asking her to walk directly back into Olivia Benson's orbit - just not for the same reasons.

.

.

On the morning that Alex had left her for a second time, Olivia rose and for just the briefest moment thought that maybe things would be easier. She was quick to realize that, like a slip in quitting any addiction that consumes you, giving her up a second time would be even harder.

Liv put her heart into the work, and bit by bit, the year started to pass.

Then, on a cool evening in October, Olivia opened up her apartment door to find Elliot on the other side, eyes red-rimmed and temples pounding. Just hours before, he had attacked a man for abusing their son. She had no idea where El had disappeared to after that.

Liv hadn't yet had the need to seek out the weight and intensity of Elliot's body since her night with Alex. It had been at least seven months since they had slept together - but she secretly doubted it would ever make a difference. They fit together like two halves of a whole when it came to seeking out this sort of comfort. Soon, they were once again sleeping together as a means to dull the sharp edges of their pain.

The first year that Alexandra was back in Manhattan was such a whirlwind for Olivia that she couldn't have contacted her even if she had been aware of the ADA's presence. Right on the heels of discovering Finn's son had a half-brother that was a murderer, there was the Gitano case - the aftershocks of which were felt long into 2007.

"What about me?" she had murmured to Elliot, but it wasn't their falling into bed together she thought of - it was bigger than that.

She had already lost the love of her life twice over. Elliot was the only solid, steady thing left - the person she could trust, talk to or fuck easily, in equal measure. He kept Olivia anchored in a life where everything else seemed unmoored. If the threat was for that, too, to be taken away then Olivia would do it herself, and first: self-punishment as self-control.

In Oregon, sneaking around in the Hartnells' house, Liv wondered if Alex'd had as much trouble staying within the lines of her new life, back in Wisconsin. Perhaps Olivia was destined only for a singular life, no matter where else events lead her, because that singular life was right where she landed back in the city in 2007.

Right before she took off to Philadelphia, seeking out the brother that was no more than a DNA fingerprint, Liv had finally picked up the phone to call Alex - hoping, in part, that Alex would try to talk her out of it.

The phone never rang.

Philadelphia was a disaster.

Olivia's brother, a fugitive and maybe a rapist, was gone. She was drinking more frequently again, and rage-fucking her partner at every turn. Elliot's concern got him calling after the aloof blonde next, but she remained unmoved.

Summer began to bleed into Fall. Finn's nephew got away with murder, Liv's brother was innocent after all, and, after taking more than two years to sign his divorce papers, Elliot found himself back home with Kathy.

Not prime parent material.

The phrase went around and around in her head after the meeting with the adoption agency. After Olivia first absorbed the news that Kathy was pregnant, she had moved quickly from surprise, to confusion, to jealousy.

Two and a half years, she had fucked Elliot relentlessly, letting him fill her with abandon, no fear of consequence. Not once had they used so much as a condom, and yet Liv hadn't even had a period late enough to raise questions. One night, and Kathy had caught pregnant like it was a common cold.

Elliot Stabler Junior's birth was as inopportune as his conception. His mother lay in the hazy veil between living and dying, while Olivia clutched his tiny body between her own and a foil blanket. When the dust settled, Liv took stock of things - Alex's not calling, Elliot's readymade family, Simon's drama - and decided that it was time for her to build her own family.

But the dream had been short lived. As the agency had put it, she was not prime parent material.

"Any way you want to do it, I'll support you," Elliot had told her, but what could she say?

How could she tell him that she wished his accidental pregnancy had been hers? She would not invite him back into her bed while he was at home. So she forced herself to smother everything that Eli's birth had stirred in her, and turned back to the work to escape the pressing weight of her loneliness.

Perhaps, she told herself afterward, it had been for the best, as she spent the better part of 2008 struggling with PTSD that nobody knew existed. All through Summer and Fall, Olivia had soaked her sheets again and again with the nightmares that replayed Lowell Harris's face. She suffered the flashbacks, the dissociation, alone into November, when still just her therapy group knew.

That was, until she nearly blew Dominic Pruitt's head off. It was the alarming culmination of nine months that had seemed more full than usual of baby and pregnancy cases.

"I want you to take some personal time off," Cragen told her, and Liv listened - not because of the threat of noting her jacket, but because he was the closest she'd ever known to a father.

The elderly gentleman who met Olivia on the sidewalk in front of his tidy bungalow gave her exactly the look she expected. Grinning, she lowered her sunglasses at him.

"Thank you for meeting with me! She's gorgeous!"

'She' was a pristine black Mustang that sat at the curb looking like a misplaced relic out of a greaser's fantasy.

The owner shook hands with her politely, still eyeing her as though he was being played a fool. "That she is! Took better care of her than my wife these last 20 years." He sniffed and chortled, trailing off as he remembered Liv was also a woman.

But Olivia wasn't listening - already pacing the perimeter of the stationary car, eyes twinkling and her heart pounding, in a good way for once. Careful not to touch anything, she came as close as she dared, eyeing the windshield, the tires, lights, interior. Clean, shiny, perfectly intact - the Mustang was a dream; Liv nearly salivated at the perfection of it.

"You wanna take a look at th'engine?" the man broke into her appraisal.

"Can I?" Liv breathed, excited, and it seemed to settle the old man some.

He popped the hood and allowed her to gaze her fill. Like the rest of the vehicle, the engine was practically spit-shined to gleaming.

"Incredible," Liv praised.

"Mm. Lois says I gotta let'ter go, and accept the fact that I look like a perfect fool driving it nowadays."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"Nawp," he shook his head, rhyming the word with 'top,' "nawp, she's right - I just don't like admittin' it. So, if you like her, she's yours."

Olivia was struck with a sudden pang of guilt. "Are you sure you don't want to leave it to a grandchild instead?"

The man raised a furry eyebrow at the brunette's sudden reluctance. "Got no grandchildren to speak of, so . . . likely not," he shrugged at last.

Liv nodded, understanding better than he might've realized. She didn't have the wife she had thought she would, or a child she had imagined would complete the picture. What she did have was enough cash in her savings to purchase a house in the suburbs outright, and a craving to get away.

"Then I'd love to take care of her," she told him with a smile.

"C'mon inside then, and I'll sign the pinks. Don't mind Lois," he added, "she'll no doubt want to make you eat somethin' . . . " He kept chatting as he headed up the walk, and Olivia could feel her pulse fluttering in anticipatory delight as she followed.

Fifteen minutes later, when Liv touched the convertible for the first time, it felt like grabbing a live wire. She dropped into the driver's seat with the pink slip in one hand, the feel of the leather almost indecently slick.

The man stood grinning at her from the curb, then tossed her the keys in a high arc that Liv caught easily. "Where're you gonna take her?" he asked, and she knew he meant more than just where she lived.

The engine purred to life like a cat rising from a satisfying nap, and Liv slid her sunglasses back into place. "Somewhere nice and warm," she smiled. "What's her name?"

The man blushed like she had just unexpectedly flirted with him. "Oh. Well, uh - " he rubbed the back of his neck shyly, "you should call her whatever you want."

"Forty-four years is a long time to have a name. She deserves to keep it," Liv insisted.

He straightened and pushed back his shoulders. "I used to call her Miz Dolly," he confessed. "After Missus Parton."

Olivia patted the dash. "She'll be in good hands," she told him. "Come on, Dolly." She pulled away from the curb and was on her way, giving the old man one last honk as she headed out of the neighborhood.

All that was on her mind then was open road and places far from Manhattan Winter. She couldn't have known, then, that in just three months Alex would be making another appearance in her life.

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You can read more about Law & Order: Conviction here if you are curious about how I worked canon into my timeline! - M

[sillyrabbit81]

Her Heavy Cross

Summary: Three years after tragedy hits, Lana she decides to start dating again. She meets Will through a dating app and they begin an online romance. After months of constant requests, Lana relents and agrees to meet and go on an irl date with Will. But is Will who he says he is? Lana is quickly pulled into an intense relationship forcing her to confront her tragic past. Will Lana face it or will she close her heart forever?

Pairing: OMC x OFC

Word Count: approx 4k

Warnings: mention of sexual assault, swearing, smoking, implied smut

Authors Note: The story started as a Henry Cavill fanfiction but I changed it to be an original character, but shades of Henry are still there. Hope you enjoy the story and thanks for reading.

Part 18 Part 20

Part 19

It took over two hours to get ready. I don't know how celebrities did this all the time. I enjoy dressing up, but not when I know the pictures will be circulated widely, and every time someone types into google "Liam Cross's girlfriend", images of tonight will come up. It freaked me out.

I trusted Liam when he said the dress was right, and I trusted Jen. She had only just started dating Riza when Andy and I got married, so although she hadn't done my hair and makeup, I had seen her work and the brides always looked good. So when I asked her to do my makeup for the premiere, I didn't think twice. I regretted that when Jen took the pins out of my hair.

"Jen, I look like Orphan Annie," I complained.

She just laughed and said, "trust me." She started to work a brush through my hair while humming Tomorrow. I groaned.

But as she worked the brush, the curls started to join together, and beautiful waves appeared in my hair.

"You're a genius," I said to Jen when I finally worked out what she was doing.

Jen blushed and just kept brushing. "I have always wanted to do this to your hair. You have such a timeless facial structure. I knew it would be perfect for you and for tonight."

She did my makeup in a beautiful smokey eye and deep red lipstick. It was not too dissimilar to what I would do for myself, but she added fake lashes, brushed and plucked my eye-brows and did some light contouring. She even checked my legs and arms for marks and bruises, covering any she could find.

Jen helped me dress and double-checked everything, including any visible panty line. I couldn't see how it would be possible to have a panty line since I had gotten the smallest underwear I could find, which was a string attached to a triangle of lace.

When I was ready, I looked in the dressing room's full-length mirror. I almost cried in relief. I felt like I would fit in and not look like I had a face like a dropped pie. Jen had done a fantastic job with my hair, and I looked like a cross between Rita Hayworth and Jessica Rabbit. I adored the old Hollywood style. I thanked her a million times, and she went downstairs to get Liam and Riza.

I paced the bedroom waiting for them to come back. Being alone in the room had allowed my anxieties to creep back in. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, in through my nose and out through my mouth. The dress was tight, and I couldn't quite breathe deeply enough. But I was not going to ruin this night with my anxiety. I was not. My guts didn't care what my brain was telling itself. They churned and flipped in my belly until I thought I was going to be sick.

"Lana," Liam said from the doorway. He was alone. Riza and Jen must have waited downstairs. I gasped as I took him in. The was wearing a black woollen three-piece suit with a black tie and crisp white cotton shirt with onyx cuff links. He had was clean-shaven and had his hair combed down in little waves. He looked like he had stepped off the movie screen. He looked so perfect.

"You look incredible," I tell him.

He laughed, "No, Sweetheart. Not next to you, I don't." He crossed the space between us and took my hands, spreading them wide to get a good look. "You are a vision."

I blushed and said, "I feel sick."

Liam shook his head, "you're going to do great." Liam lead me to the dressing room and stood behind me in front of the mirror. "Sweetheart, look at yourself. Look at your hair," he touched it cautiously, just above my ear, as if scared his feather-light touch would ruin it.

"Do you know how much money some women would pay to have hair as spectacular as yours? And your body, the way it curves and moves with such grace. Your skin is so delicate and as smooth as silk." Liam ran his finger down my neck until I shivered and smiled. "And that smile, my Sweetheart, You don't know what lengths I will go to for that smile. It would make Helen of Troy hang her head in despair."

"Thank you," I said. "I needed that."

"It's true." Liam kissed my forehead tenderly, his lips just barely brushing my skin. "I want to kiss you. But I'm under very strict instructions from Jen not to. But be prepared for an attack after the red carpet." He kissed my neck with as much care as before and sighed. Then he seemed to shake himself off and asked, "are you ready to go?"

I nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Ok, let's go downstairs. Apparently, we have some pictures to take."

The drive to the cinema was short, but the limousines' line was long. I barely remember anything until our car was the next in line. Liam had been going through a last-minute rundown of what should happen.

"Remember, I will get out first and wave a bit.  Just wait until I turn around, and I will help you out of the car." I nod, and he continues. "Then we will both stand in front of the car. I might wave again, but you don't have to. Just smile. Once we get past the initial photographers, there will be fans, and then there may be some interviews. Do you remember what will happen there?"

"You will sign some autographs and take some pictures. I'm to follow you. You're going to hold my hand the whole time through that part, right?" I asked.

Liam took my hand and lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss into my palm. "Nothing could make me let it go." He said sincerely. "If there are interviews, they are usually very short, only a few questions. They may ask you who you are, and I'll introduce you, and you smile and say hi. I doubt they will ask you anything other than how you're enjoying the night, but if they do, I'll handle it."

"Ok," I murmured. "I wish I had a ciggie."

Liam smiled, "If you still want one when we're done, I'll find you one. The last part is where the main paparazzi photos will be taken. They will want photos of both of us, but they will also want ones of just me. Usually, they will call out something like "fashion", and that means you can walk to the cinema and some publicists or assistants will take you into the foyer, and you can wait for me there. Ok?"

I nodded and felt bile rise in my throat. I swallowed hard, but it wouldn't go away. My mouth filled with saliva, and I kept trying to swallow it.

"Lana?"

"Air." I gasped. "I need air,"

I put down my window just as Liam shouted, "no, Lana! Don't!"

The roar I heard was like being at a footie Grand Final. I was confronted with hundreds of screaming faces lining the road opposite the cinema. Their eyes were wild. Their bodies bounced and writhed in joy and excitement. They lifted posters and toys, screaming for Liam Cross.

Liam leaned over me and, waving at the crowd, quickly pressed the button to put the window up.

"What the fuck was that?" I yelled.

"Fans."

"You didn't tell me they would be on both sides!"

"I didn't think you would put your window down."

"Your life..." I started.

"Isn't normal." We both finished.

Liam laughed, "on the plus side Lana, you have your colour back. Do you still feel sick?"

I shook my head.  "No. Now I'm just terrified." The limo started moving.

I gripped Liam's hand as if we were nearing the top of a roller coaster. He ran his thumb over my knuckles and said, "We can still go home if you want." He cupped my cheek and looked at me. The car stopped.

I shook my head. "Just don't leave me."

He smiled and kissed my neck. His skin felt different, having shaved, but his kiss was still the same. "Never." He whispered.

The door was opened, and Liam got out.

I breathed deeply, trying to calm. The dress was bloody tight. Then Liam's hand was there, and I took it.

His eyes found mine, and I fell into them. He smiled his most beautiful smile, the one where his cheeks and eyes crinkled and his teeth flashed. I found myself unable to stop my smile. How could I not smile when he looked so happy.

As I stood up, his hand came around my waist, and he pulled me tight. He leaned into my ear and said loud enough to be heard over the roar of the crowd and the shouts from the photographers, "Thank-you for doing this, Lana." He kissed my ear so swiftly I thought I had imagined it.

The procession down the red carpet went as he said it would. The fans were electric and not as frightening as I thought they would be. Some even tried to talk to me, which was awkward because I had no idea what to say. I just tried to be polite and smiled.

Liam was amazing. He never let go of my hand. One-handed, he signed autographs, shook hands, gave hugs and took selfies. He was so charming, looked the fans in the eye, seemed genuinely happy and interested to hear what they had to say. He even blushed when some of the fans oohed after he had run his fingers through his hair. Just watching how much he seemed to love this part of his job made me forget a lot of my own anxieties.

Liam was a bit different with the interviewers, more alert and guarded. But his charm and wit were still there. A few interviewers, mostly the more gossipy outlets, asked about me. The film focussed ones largely ignored me. I hoped I gave coherent responses, and Liam was as good as his word and stepped in when he needed to and took control of the interviews. I couldn't believe how many times he had to answer the same questions, and he answered each with as much enthusiasm as he had the first time he was asked.

Quicker than I thought, we stopped for the last row of photographers. They shouted for Liam's attention and were almost as loud as the fans. When the time came for Liam to do photos on his own, he brushed his lips against my neck and said in my ear, "Lana, you were perfect. Go on. I'll be with you in a minute."

I went to the end and was greeted by the publicists who ushered me into the crowded cinema foyer. I found a quiet corner and waited for about five minutes before I saw Liam practically barge his way through the crowd, his eyes searching until he saw me.

He grabbed my hips and kissed my mouth so hard I thought they would bruise.

"Lana, that was perfect. Thank you for doing that with me."

I smiled a genuine, relaxed smile for the first time in hours and asked, "so it's over?"

"It's over," Liam confirmed.

I exhaled with relief and said, "you'd have to be the only person in the world I would ever go through that for."

Liam kissed me again, softer this time, lips playing against mine, "you don't know how much that means to me." He hugged me tightly before staring at me and smiling at his goofy grin. Then he said, "come on, Sweetheart. I have a few people I'd like to introduce you to. If you are up for it, that is. Do you need more time?" I shook my head, and he led me into the crowd.

Liam grabbed my hand and moved fast through the crowd, briefly saying hi to some people on the way.

I saw Myra come in from the red carpet, and I pointed her out to Liam. Liam waved her over, and she waved back then held her hand up in a 'give me a second' gesture. She went to the corner I had been hiding in and kissed a man I assumed was her boyfriend and brought him over.

I liked her instantly. She was bubbly and happy. It was like she was famous enough to be bored by the goings-on around her, but still new enough that she hadn't developed the jaded 'here we go again' attitude that you would expect.

"Phew! That was crazy tonight. I'd say that's your fault, Liam. No one else here is big enough to pull a crowd that big." She leaned over and kissed his cheeks in the European style. "Thanks for doing it, mate. I mean, it'll be good for Stones but still, it'll help with this movie too."

Liam smiled, "Don't mention it." Liam pulled me closer and introduced me.

Myra smiled widely and pulled me into a hug. She was a few years younger than me, and she was beautiful. She had gorgeous thick dark hair, cheekbones to die for under radiant umber skin, which appeared to be without a blemish and striking sea-green eyes. She was very tall, almost as tall as Liam, but very thin. She felt so delicate when I hugged her back, but it was evident from her speech and body language; she wasn't a shrinking violet.

"Hey babes, so good to meet you. I've heard so much. You look so good. That's from Maticevski, right? Great choice. I love him." I usually cringe when I hear the word 'babes'. I think of Married at First Sight for some reason. However, coming from Myra, it just sounded sweet.

"Thanks. Liam has spoken about you too."

"Yeah, Pop has been good to me," Myra said, throwing a look at Liam that made his eyes roll.

"It's twelve years, Myra, hardly Grandfather territory."

"It's not your age. It's your attitude." She said in a snarky but playful way. "Anyway, this is my Damo. Well, Damien, but nobody calls him that." Damo smiled awkwardly and shook our hands.

Myra wrapped her arms around his waist and said teasingly, "Aww, he's shy." From the look Damo gave Myra, I'd say smitten was a better way to describe him. He's tall like Liam, and though muscular, you could tell it came from physical labour, not a gym. He had a surfie look about him with his sun-bleached shoulder long hair and tanned skin.

"I'm going for a smoke before the movie starts," Damo said to Myra.

"Can Lana have one?" Liam asks. "She has quit, but she said she would like one." I looked at Liam with gratitude, and Damo and I went behind the theatre where a smoking area was set up.

We could still hear a lot of activity going on out the front, but it appeared most of the excitement was over. Damo lit our cigarettes, and I leaned against the wall, relishing the nicotine flowing through me.

Damo laughed, "you look how I feel. Over it."

"Yeah, it's full-on, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's bullshit crazy."

"So, where do you live? How did you meet Myra and get wrapped up in this bullshit?" I asked with genuine interest. He seemed even more out of place here than I did.

Damo told me he was from the Northern Beaches and was in the year above Myra at school. He had asked her to his Year 12 formal, and she accepted, but she had cancelled to go to Melbourne for her first major acting role. "So, I don't hear from her for years, but she finds me on Instagram through old mates from school, and she tells me that I owe her a date."

"That's kinda cute."

"Yeah, surprised the fuck out of me, though. Like, why'd ya wanna go out with a sparky from the Northern Beaches."

I smiled at him, knowing the feeling. "Maybe all this bullshit gets to them, and they want someone real? Someone who doesn't want anything from them except their time and affection."

Damo smiles and nods his head. "I reckon you're onto something. So what's your story?"

I don't tell him all the details but that we met online and I didn't know who he was until I met him. "It was a complete shock when I found out who I'd been talking to."

"Fair dinkum? You met him three weeks ago?" I nodded, "It took Myra five months to convince me to go to one of these things."

I laughed, "Yeah, well, I just thought better get it over with. The sooner people can get over that Liam has a new girlfriend, the quicker I can get back to normal and not worry about it."

Damo nodded and said, "yeah, I hope so too. Myra's life can get pretty crazy."

We finished our cigarettes and went back inside. We had hardly gotten through the door when we were whisked away by our partners because the movie was about to start.

After the movie, there was a small after-party for industry people only. The people who had won tickets or were friends of friends weren't invited. Liam, of course, was invited and had planned not to go. Myra pleaded with him to stay, so when he looked at me asking the silent question, I nodded, already getting the feeling not many people could say no to Myra. Myra bounced around and hugged us both.

Liam introduced me to a few other people, including Boyd, who turned out to be an outrageous flirt and a shit-stirrer. He seemed harmless and just enjoyed taking the piss out of people. He also told me something interesting about Liam that I planned to bring up with him later.

Liam also introduced me to the showrunner Arianna, who was essentially his boss. Finally, I was introduced to Naomi, who was to play Boyd's love interest, and she was also in the movie we had just watched. The Australian film industry is pretty small.

Naomi was the opposite of Myra, friendly on the outside but was one of those people who always seemed to be looking around when you talked to them to see if there was someone more interesting or more advantageous she should be speaking to. She had icy blue eyes, bombshell blonde hair, amazing breasts and a nose that was so perfect it had to have been a nose job.

She flirted hard with Liam, touching his arm, letting it linger that little bit too long. She ignored me mostly, except when she threw me some side-eye. Liam seemed to take it in his stride, polite but not friendly, until she 'accidentally' brushed her breasts against his arm.

Liam seemed to have enough, and his eyes went dark. He put his hand to my back and practically pushed me out, saying we were leaving. His tone didn't leave much room for argument, but I wanted to know why he left so suddenly when things had been going well, and I actually enjoyed the party. I was also feeling bad that I didn't say goodbye to Myra and the others.

Liam's limo was waiting outside, and he ushered me in quickly. Liam texted Myra to say goodbye and to let the others we left. "Myra won't mind. She knows how I feel about Naomi."

I said hi to our driver before turning to Liam. "Is there a history there?" I ask. My voice was small.

Liam scoffed, "she wishes." He sighed and stretched his neck. He took his jacket off, opened his vest and loosed his tie. I looked at him expectantly. He taps the driver on the shoulder and apologises, but he's going to put the screen up.

When the screen was in place, Liam started to roll his sleeves up. It seemed like he was stalling. Eventually, he said, "I suppose I had better tell you. Naomi was cast a couple of weeks ago. The original actress playing her part fell pregnant and didn't want to commit to a series. She comes in for a table read, and I felt bad for her coming in late because the rest of the main cast had a couple of months together already. Myra knew her and said to avoid her, but I thought, well, I have to work with her should get to know her. We had a chat after the read, then she follows me back to my dressing room and long story short, she takes her shirt off and grabs my cock."

"What did you do?" My green-headed monster was in full battle mode. He better have a good and believable answer.

"I threw her out ." He shrugged. "Shit like that happens all the time. What she doesn't know is that word gets around, and soon she will be seen as toxic and won't get hired. Although I think she aims to bag a guy with money and never work again."

I believed him. I was going to have to get this jealousy thing under control. It was new to me. I don't think I had ever been jealous before, even with Andy. I looked out of the window, letting the night beauty of Sydney calm me down.

Liam put his arm around me and rested his chin on my shoulder. "So was it so terrible?" Liam asked dramatically. "The premiere, I mean."

I looked at him, his blue eyes bright again. "Not all of it," I smiled at him.

"What were the good parts?"

I ran my finger across his jaw, his skin was so smooth. I missed the three-day-growth, but he looked just as amazing without it. "I liked meeting Myra."

He smiled, "I knew you'd like her."

"And the movie was good."

"Anything else?" Liam ran a finger across my collarbone

"The free popcorn and drinks."

Liam chuckled, and his finger ran up my neck. "Anything else?"

"They have great chairs in the theatre," he was turning me on. I heard it in my voice. My heart started to beat louder.

"Is that all?" He asked with his rough, horny voice. He lifted my chin.

"The bathrooms were good too."

He traced my lips with his finger. "Is that all that was good about tonight?"

"Tonight's not over. Ask me again in the morning." He slipped his finger into my mouth, and my body was on fire. Even after all I had been through, the stress and panic, my body still responded to his touch. I sucked his finger gently, and his eyes widened.

"You're very naughty, Lana." He said as he withdrew his finger and shuffled in his seat.

"I'm not bad. I'm just drawn that way," I said in my best Jessica Rabbit imitation.

Liam's eyes widened then narrowed. "What did Boyd tell you?"

"Tell me? Nothing?" I tried to look innocent, but I'm not an actress.

"Never mind." Liam blushed.

"Hang on, who is your favourite Disney Princess?"

"I'm not a child, Lana." He looked a little uncomfortable.

I pouted. "Come on. Everyone has one."

"Who is yours?"

"Moana, although I don't know if she counts as a Princess cause she's a chief's daughter. My second is Belle. Tell me yours."

"Ariel." Liam looked out the window.

"Favourite spice girl?"

"I don't like pop music. " I raised my eyebrow at Liam. He paused a long time before answering. "Geri."

"Which one of John Snow's girlfriends was hotter with Ygritte or Daenerys?" I was having fun with it. I don't think I'd ever seen him squirm so much.

"Ygritte, Lana, do you mind?"

"No, no, just one more." I was trying not to burst out laughing. I knew I must have had a huge smirk on my face, "Mary-Anne or Ginger?"

"For fucks sake, yes, ok, I have always had a thing for redheads."

I couldn't hold it any longer, and I burst out laughing. I laughed so hard, Liam eventually had to join in. "I'm sorry." I said, "What are you going to do to Boyd?"

"Unfortunately, Lana, it looks like I will be busy for the next 25 years because I will have to kill him."

Part 20