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crispy-armpit · 13 hours

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✧ 𝒊 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒚 𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕 ✧

yandere secret agent x reader

‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧ 🍸₊˚ ⋆｡ 𖦹 °

⭒ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: after taking on your friend's offer to head downtown to a hidden bar, you find yourself in the middle of a covert operation. thankfully Messiah is there to hide you from danger. or did he just push you right into it?

⭒ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵: gn reader, yandere, suggestive position & situation, slight violence, reader held at gunpoint, mentions of a firearm and getting shot, reader pressed against male crotch, sadism(?), auditory hallucination (you hear voices), hair pulling, swearing

⭒ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1,153 words

⭒ a/n: it was my birthday last month and i had planned to post this by then but ofc i never learn my lesson and kept my drafts in tumblr (leading to it getting deleted) 😭!! so sorry for the wait everyone and happy late new years! :D hope u like the batman wannabe.. it goes from 0 to 100 rq because it's hilarious to me and i'm sleep deprived.. i can smell the hate comments already

will you venture down this path?

it was supposed to be another weekend night spent alone in your home; you, comfortably snuggling against your pillows while playing your favourite brain-rot game from night to morning.

but here you were— unfortunately not in your bed, and devastatingly not romancing your fictional game characters. your friend, Vern, had dragged convinced you to join him and try out some random jazz bar which recently opened.

he mentioned his band would be playing there... he's probably just trying to get more people to hype up his band.

the warm ambience of the bistro & bar, alongside the joyous laughter ringing all over the room, people bantering and simply enjoying each other's presence was enough to erase the thoughts of your usual weekend plans. it was the type of place where you couldn't bring up any negative emotions just because of how chill everyone and everything was. so that's one forgiveness point to your friend.

at some point, Vern had split off from you to meet up with the other Ares band members to go perform— leaving you to drink away your life at the bar.

you channeled your best resting bitch face to avoid any strangers trying to hit on you, which worked. you sat alone listening to the blue voice of the current performer, making small talk here and there with the bartender.

oh, the bartender—

you'd been eyeing him up all night.

he was the only other person at the bar. like all other bartenders, he was charismatic and attractive despite the two deep scars running down his left cheek.

maybe he noticed you looking at it, because he suddenly rasped out, "...animal attack" with a nonchalant smile. which is quite impressive, since your gaze never once lingered on the scars for too long. he must be observing me.

Logan (you read his name tag) was an exceptional conversationist. and he played the bartender role extremely well. he brought up topics like your ambitions, your dreams, and even your darkest passions effortlessly.

but his eyes never seemed to really focus on your figure when you talked.

it was always off to a specific direction in the distance. and when you turned to look at what he was looking at, there would only be the same wrinkly old man sitting on the sofa chair.

"can you see it?"

confused, you reply, "see what?"

do you see it? the eyes? his lack of mouth? with hair as white as his, and skin as dark as void, how can you not see me?

"what the hell are you sayi—" you grow pale when you turn back and see Logan had his back turned away from you the whole time, far from the counter.

who was talking to me?

and for the first time in 3 hours since you've arrived, the old man from the chair moves. he wanders aimlessly for a moment until setting his sights on the bar. multiple random people who were loitering in the room take notice of his sudden movement, and all briskly walk towards him.

you're petrified.

the world is spinning, people are blocking the old man's path from you. and you're so thankful for that because it gives you the time to be pulled on top of the bar counter and then underneath it by a pair of strong hands.

your consciousness recovers and you're met with Logan, body crouched down to your level. his shadowed face shows no semblance of the bright man you were talking to a while ago. now his own icy blue eyes pierced through yours, and the once attractive rasp of his voice is now chilling to the bone.

"Logan—"

"you better fucking shut up unless you want to die."

he pulls out a revolver and points it to your forehead.

profusely nodding your head in understanding, tears begin to prick your eyes; this is so fucking messed up, what is happening??

your brain tells you that this was just the alcohol getting to you, and maybe Logan has some kind of split personality and a murderer... that it's some kind of sick prank Vern is probably pulling on you. maybe my drink got spiked...

but your gut tells you that you are in great danger. alcohol has never made you experience that level of auditory hallucination... hell, you were probably being delusional right now— of course Logan's trying to kill you!!

you could hear the faint sounds of bodies thudding against other people as if they were thrown or pushed. but no screams, just grunts. the loudness of the approaching footsteps came to a halt in front of the counter.

you cover your cries as best as you can with your palms and with Logan's hidden weapon still pointed at you. you could so easily whack it away or dodge it. but you stop once you hear the most grotesque voice ever, the result of what sounded like flesh tearing apart and bones reconstructing.

"where... are... they.....?"

you are faced with two decisions:

scream for help and get shot in the head by Logan

scream for help and face whatever the fuck is out there

either way, you don't get to choose. because the stress of the situation is beginning to overwhelm you and soon your whimpers slip out a little. small enough to not be heard from in front of the counter, but big enough for whoever is on top of you— and that someone happened to be the psychopathic bartender.

you freeze.

but your strength alone is not enough to hold back against the veiny hands that grab the back of your hair and push you against the bulge of the man standing in front of you.

you push and thrash over his grasp, but your actions only lead to him digging the lower parts of your face further into his crotch. WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOING??? IS HE TRYING TO SILENCE ME WITH HIS DICK?!

and it works...

you stay silent and limp, not because of fear. but because of the absurdity of this situation and the slow growth of whatever beast is hiding under those black waiter pants.

the heat of your muffled breath against his privates collects in your face, it's getting too much but you hold yourself together. your hands that were once pushing him off now lay on the top of his hardened thighs.

Logan shares a couple words with the old man before pointing him elsewhere. you catch a strange name falling off the old man's lips, Messiah. fuck, is this a cult? shortly afterwards, you hear the light sounds of evacuating feet. he's finally gone.

and with the speed of a middle-aged lady during black friday sales, you manage to push him off to the side and stand up across him, ready to give him a piece of your mind.

you were humiliated, violated, mentally tired and— and—

why the fuck is he blushing.

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hersurvival · 3 days

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Soft,

Soft hands,

Soft hands I would like to hold.

And perfect,

Perfectly shaped lips

I would like to breathe against,

To tell you I love you

Directly

Into your open mouth.

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akindplace · 2 days

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Just because you’ve had a very bad experience with a doctor/healthcare professional, it doesn’t mean all of them will be the same way. There are professionals who care for people and want to help as best they can. You should be looking out for your own health, so please don’t assume everyone will be equally as bad and end up avoiding appointments. Not everyone is the same, and you should feel free to show up to your next appointment asserting your boundaries, and if that doesn’t work, maybe you should go with a friend for support, and if they don’t feel like helping you tell them you’d like their refusal in writing, or if they are insisting on making decisions you know already don’t work from previous experiences, again, ask for that in writing, and for a referral. People shouldn’t be expected to just put up with anything because they have a health problem or a disability. We’re still people, after all.

#doctors appointments #neglection #anxiety #trauma #self-compassion #self-worth #original writing #yes I am feeling nervous about my appointments tomorrow

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arseholism · 2 days

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From the moral high ground to the depth of despair..

The choices I’ve made, unthinkable, unfair..

The sweet promise of eternity, so precious, so cruel..

I’ve felt dejected, rejected, and at times such a fool..

I’ve risen from ruins, built castles from dreams..

Filled with your cheers and jeers, praise, insults and screams..

I’ve endured the torture, I’ve stayed unwaveringly true..

All in the name of love, it was always for you.

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villainousauthor · 11 hours

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heyyyy love ur writing (SO IMMERSIVE IDK)

can u do a snippet where the villain likes to lie a lot (but in a joking way. Maybe sometimes not. UP TO YOU) x a hero who can tell when the villain is lying

"Okay. I'm sick of this. How can you tell?" Villain demands, stopping mid fight. They hold Hero in place, not giving them an inch of leeway.

Hero's smug smile is so infuriating, they can feel their heart beating faster at the sight.

"What ever do you mean, enemy o' mine?" Hero spoke in a sing-song voice, still grinning. They don't fight Villain's hold, perfectly content at annoying them currently.

"How can you tell when I lie. You always seem to know, you're always calling my bluffs." They say, trying to keep their stern tone. "I know your power isn't lie detection. It's telekinesis... unless you have multiple powers?" Villain muses, like they haven't considered this possibility yet.

Hero laughs lightly. "I'm sorry, am I supposed to believe you when you threaten to blow up a bridge or kidnap the mayor?"

"Sometimes I'm being serious. You always seem to know when I'm telling the truth or not." Villain responds in a huff. Their grip on Hero tightens ever so slightly, but they don't seem to mind. "Tell me how."

"That's some pretty useful information you're demanding. Why should I tell you? It's nice being able to call you out on your lies." Their voice is lighthearted, but Villain knows Hero won't give them what they want without something in exchange.

Groaning, Villain bites. "Alright, alright. I'll leave the city and all civilians thereof alone for... two days. 48 hours of me not kidnapping, killing, maiming, or destroying."

Hero hums as they consider this offer. "Make it a week." They insist after a minute of deliberation.

"Fine," Villain snaps, not particularly happy but relenting, "I'll be on my best behavior for a whole week. Now tell me."

Villain's grip on Hero eases up as they sit up, steadying themselves. "Your nose scrunches up when you lie. You also get this adorable crease between your brows." Hero speaks, a thumb going to brush up against their forehead softly. Villain doesn't move away but instead frowns in response.

"That's it?" They ask, disbelieving they have such obvious tells.

"Also you clench your hands. Like you can't keep your fingers still." Hero adds, voice still airy and teasing. "If it makes you feel better, I don't think anyone else has figured this out."

Villain backs away now, putting some distance between the both of them, as they feel the beginnings of heat rising to their face at this.

"God, I hate you so much." They say through gritted teeth.

Not returning their irritated or embarrassment tone, Hero smiles, stepping back into their personal space yet again. They lean in close, grabbing them by the chin.

"Your nose is all scrunched up again, liar."

#hero x villain #prompts #dialogue prompt #original writing #hero #hero prompt #villain #villain prompt #villain x hero #superhero #writing prompts #writeblr #writers on tumblr #my writing #asks

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patronsaintofhomosandpain · 2 days

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All that shit you don't want people to know? Write it.

·:*¨༺𖤐☆✮☆𖤐༻¨*:·

There are a lot of topics people don't like to talk about, right? Whether it's stuff society has taught us to not talk about, like sex, or stuff that's just really personal, that we'd like to keep to ourselves. That's totally fine, but you shouldn't keep that shit bottled up.

A great writing and mental health exercise is to explore that by writing it.

For example, I've never liked to think about or talk about death. So I dove right in and decided to write a very short story about the processes of death in a way that was more palatable to me.

It was a great way to confront the big scary on my own terms, and while I don't feel completely exorcized of the anxiety, it's great to get some of it out.

You could even take this one step further and burn it or rip it to shreds as a physical and philosophical way of destroying all of it.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing #writblr #writer things #writers #writerscorner #writerslife #book blog #original writing #creative writing #writers block #writing stuff #writing advice #writings #thoughts #advice #trixed thrusday

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istgihateyou · 2 days

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I loved you. Since that first text you ever sent me. I didn't realise it at first, nor did I have the guts to label it. But every single day since then, I've loved you. And now, whenever I think of you, I'm painfully reminded that I still do. Even after multiple attempts of shoving you out, I still do. And that is my tragedy that I loved you.

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memories-beneath-the-skin · 2 days

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Not all pages get read

Not all words spoken get heard

It just be too much for one mind to take in

I guess it's why the world is so big?

It's ok to be invisible

To not be the one seen

As long as when you are it counts

#writers on tumblr #original writing #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #writerscommunity #spilled writing #spilled words #my writing #creative writing #writers and poets #writeblr #writing #spilled truth

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a-dreamersjournal · 13 hours

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Who are you?

What does my world without you look like, I do not know. It feels like you have been here for as long as I have. In every breath, in every heartbeat, even if i knew nothing, I have known you. You Have lived within me, as me, by my side, and I didn't even notice it.

Who are you? You feel so close yet so far away, Like you are me But still not mine.

Who are you? A part of me? Or a whole that I am a part of?

I don't know. And i do not want to know. As much as I love words, you are someone, something I can never define and that is fine.

An inexplicable mystery of someone bound to me for an eternity, which I cannot possibly name.

My Home.

#poetry #literature #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #prose #original writing #academia #dear diary #journal #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writers and poets #writerscommunity #writeblr #the tortured poets society #the tortured poets department

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not-poignant · 2 days

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Birthday Spotlight - Crielle ferch Fnwy

[18 April - Aries]

Crielle ferch Fnwy is the matriarch of the An Fnwy estate, a beautiful, evil Machiavellian supervillain who has been manipulating the Seelie Court and her family for tens of thousands of years, while giving the appearance of being a perfectly loving Seelie fae who only cares about truth and justice.

Mother of Gwyn ap Nudd, and aunt of Efnisien ap Wledig, Crielle is actually only rarely seen in stories, but has an explosive impact regardless, due to the trauma she inflicts or causes others to inflict on our main characters.

‘You’re not mine. You may have stolen from our family legacy, you may have parasitised our reputation, you may have even exploited and ruined the things about our appearance that make us – not you – beautiful. But you are not, you have never been mine. If you felt a short, sharp shock when you came into the world, my darling, it was my hands around your throat while your father tried to pull me off you. ‘Imagine, if you will, my dear, reprehensible thing. Imagine the first time you came back to me after we sent you away to play with Efnisien. Oh you were only twelve or thirteen? What a lovely idea that was. And Efnisien had you for hours. I told him to use knives. He liked them so, and he didn’t think he’d be allowed. So precious. And I heard the distant echo of your screams like a faint, familiar melody all throughout my day. A time when they stopped because he gagged you perhaps? Or your voice gave out? Tsk. He is – was – so crude. But still...effective. And do you remember? Oh, my creature, imagine it... ‘You came home hours later, hours after Efnisien. You were broken and cut and bleeding and so, so ruined. And you stumbled into the house, and there I was waiting for you. Breathless, actually. And you stared at me as though I would – what? – tell you that Efnisien had crossed a line, gone too far? Do you remember what I did?’ ‘You smiled at me,’ Gwyn said, his voice rough and rusty.

Game Theory

Game Theory: Introduced as the manipulative, evil, and cruel mother of the King, Crielle starts off with Cinderella stepmother vibes, until you realise that Gwyn's her only son and she can't stand him, favouring his cousin Efnisien instead. A torturer, abuser, schemer, and conniving Machiavellian figure, she ultimately has been puppeting the Seelie Court for thousands of years, and is the cause of Gwyn attaining, and then losing, his Kingship.

It's safe to say that Crielle has never been the Most Valued Player of any story.

The Court of Five Thrones: While Crielle only has a very brief appearance in this story, her presence is felt throughout. We find out more about her feelings towards Gwyn, through journals he discovers in her house after her murder at Augus' hands.

The Drawn Bead: In a story that explores Gwyn's first love, Crielle is there as a forbidding, tormenting figure, ruling Gwyn's life with an invisible, oppressive kind of terror.

The Curse: The only story which features Crielle's perspective, we see her as a child, a teenager, an adult, and learn about her dangerous proclivities, how her family did and didn't deal with them, and the depth of her love for a select few people, a love that she gave to Gwyn right up until the moment he was born.

Fae Tales – Alternative Perspectives: Crielle is only here briefly, but we see more of her dialogue with Gwyn, and more of Augus' perspective about her.

Underline the Black: Crielle here emerges as a cruel villain to Efnisien, in a flipped/reversed narrative where Gwyn is her beloved child, and Efnisien is nothing more than a neglected science experiment. Efnisien's life is at the mercy of Crielle's whims, and she puts him first in Hillview (an institution) to put him out of sight and out of mind, but as soon as he causes too much trouble for her, she won't hesitate to strike him down.

The Spoils of the Spoiled: In which Crielle even in the human world as a human herself proves that she can be just as evil as ever. Ruler of the household, torturer of Gwyn (and later, we learn, Efnisien), and clearly involved in corruption and organised crime, Crielle lives her best life in this story until Gwyn tries to legally emancipate himself from the family.

Falling Falling Stars: In the follow up to The Spoils of the Spoiled, Efnisien - previously thought of as the beloved and protected 'adopted' child of Crielle's - reveals over time the verbal, emotional, physical, and sexual abuse he suffered at her hands through therapy sessions with Dr Gary. Over time, we realise that no one is safe from her influence.

Crielle is very 'classically' beautiful, with blonde hair that has a slight wave in it, that generally falls down to her shoulders. She has azure eyes, a shade of blue almost never found among humans (even when she's human). She wears only enough make-up to accentuate her eyes and perfect lips, and maintains a very 'natural' effect to her beauty. It looks effortless and perfect enough that many who are experienced with beauty routines know she puts a lot of time into her appearance.

Crielle is asexual, sex repulsed, and aromantic.

Crielle is common fae, and while she's affected by the curse that Olphix cast upon the family, I like to think she'd still be pretty awful.

Born into a family in which some members are predisposed to sociopathic behaviour, Crielle was one of the worst and was not encouraged by her parents to be the way she is. Many people assume that she was abused into her evilness, but she wasn't.

To me, the concept or alienness of someone who is as evil as Crielle simply because she was 'born that way' is very fascinating to me.

Incredibly intelligent and perceptive, her few weaknesses are around the (few) people she loves and the way she will indulge them, as well as anything that threatens her reputation.

In Game Theory, when we finally realise that she is at the centre of Gwyn's devotion, standing there watching his humiliation, reacting in disgust to being called 'Mama' in a moment of vulnerability from her own son.

In Falling Falling Stars, Efnisien calls Crielle, and it becomes quickly clear that she holds no love in her heart for Efnisien when she calls him a 'ghost' and reminds him that ghosts are very easy to kill, making it clear she still wants him dead, and only inertia/disinterest is keeping her from following through because she'd already killed him once.

Always really fucking evil and irredeemable.

Frankly dies a lot.

Always a bit of a mad chemist. In Fae Tales she is a literal chemist and inventor of many different poisons. This has carried over even in to her human incarnations where in the Spoils universe she uses her knowledge of science to cultivate, create, or acquire poisons and viruses and bacteria to insert into Gwyn's food. And carries even more strongly into the Underline universe, where she runs one of the most successful synthetic hormone companies in Australia.

Visibly stunning.

Cares a great deal about reputation.

Usually loves Efnisien. Underline is the first series that has flipped the narrative so that Gwyn is beloved and Efnisien is loathed.

Kind of disdains her husband, who has no power over her.

Crielle is a real figure in Welsh mythology, though she was never meant to be an evil figure. Nor is she Gwyn's mother in the mythology. A sign of just how intensely I've bastardised everything for my own purposes.

She is good friends with the Ratcatcher of Hameln.

I wanted Crielle to be an example of how you can't expect that someone perfectly beautiful is a good person. I also really wanted to write a woman villain. I felt like a lot of woman villains at the time that I was seeing or reading were often written as petty or just in ways that made them somehow 'weak.' The appeal of Crielle is that she's an extremely effective villain and the only thing that stops her is her death (with the exception of Falling Falling Stars).

Despite how awful she is, I really love her! I'd write her more, but she's too strong and powerful lmao and she ruins my character's lives too much.

Crielle's colours for me have always been cream, yellow, white and blue. It's hard to imagine her wearing anything else.

‘How perfectly disgusting,’ Crielle purred. ‘A little worm has learned how to use the phone. I thought I had a caterpillar once, that would turn into the most beautiful butterfly, but it turns out the only thing my sister’s loins are good for, are despicable little worms.’ ‘D-Do you hate me now?’ Efnisien whispered. Crielle laughed lightly. ‘Oh, oh, my darling, I don’t hate you.’ A moment of hope, strong and bright, a sudden dawn inside of him. ‘I feel nothing for you. As far as I recall, I killed my nephew, and you are nothing more than a ghost.’

Falling Falling Stars

#birthday spotlight #crielle ferch fnwy #falling falling stars #fae tales verse #fae tales #fantasy #original writing #original work #writing villains #fantasy writing #i love crielle so much honestly #she's the worst #i don't love her in a 'she's great i want to spend time with her' way #but in a 'she's such a robust #and strong and effective villain' kind of way #i can always trust that she will thoroughly fuck shit up in any scene she appears in #and also frequently posthumously as well

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kalavathiraj · 3 days

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In one minute he grabs my hands, in the next his eyes gag my voice, God alone knows why he made man, who instead of loving makes her regret her choice.

Kalavathi Raj, QUOTUS

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storytimewriting · 1 day

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writing is what keeps me alive

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hersurvival · 3 days

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What else can I write for you

That you do not already know?

I haven't a problem being honest,

I have confessed my love

And accepted the hard truths

That came with that.

But still I lie awake,

Scraping at my brain

For more to say

That maybe you do not know.

#writing #poets on tumblr #poem #poetry #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled poem #spilled writing #original writing #dumb

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superhaught · 1 day

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Breaking Down (Chapter Three)

Pairing: Leighton Murray & Reader, Leighton Murray x Tatum (background)

Warning(s): description of panic attack and vomiting, slight reference to eating disorder, angst

Words: 1600, Part 3/?

Part 1 / Part 2

Leighton attends the fundraising party for the Women's Center and things go badly. Luckily, reader is there to help again.

You attended the Women’s Center Fundraiser party dressed in an outfit that you hoped was giving “Shane from the L Word’s leather ensemble.” Not that you really saw yourself as a “Shane,” you just wanted to look hot.

You were leaning against a wall, drinking a mocktail and talking with two of your friends, one dressed as Santana Lopez and the other in a “League of Their Own” style uniform, when Leighton Murray entered the door to the Women’s Center.

Her costume was unmistakable - Cate Blanchett in “Carol.” Absolutely classic. You smiled and tried to catch her eye, which felt foolish. You doubted that she would remember you. It had been a number of days since you met her mid-panic attack and she hadn’t texted you.

But Leighton saw you and her eyes lit up with recognition. She smiled and gave you a polite wave of her fingers, which you returned. She looked like she was going to approach you, but then her eyes darted elsewhere, your friend asked you a question, and you lost sight of Leighton in the crowd.

The night continued uneventfully. You kept catching glances of Leighton; first, talking to Alicia (dressed as Elton John, Leighton’s ex - you were informed), and later, on the arm of a blonde you didn’t know (notably not in costume, Leighton’s current girlfriend, not her doppleganger as her appearance would suggest. Tatum, junior - you were told).

Your friends caught your eyes following Leighton throughout the party and they teased you but indulged you anyways, supplying you with the context about who Leighton was with, likely to alert you to the fact that the girl who you were so clearly crushing on was not available.

Your group was on your third round of drinks (just orange and cranberry juice for you, bottom shelf vodka with about as much juice as found in a LaCroix for them) and dancing along to the party music. But no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t keep your eyes off the blonde.

Leighton and Tatum were examining the table of auction items. Leighton was smiling and reading the description of every item. Tatum was making a disgusted face as she picked up a handmade pinch-pot.

You couldn’t hear what went down, but visually, the couple clearly got into an argument. After a moment of the heated exchange, Tatum stormed out of the building and slammed the door behind her. Leighton was frozen in place for a second before Alicia swooped in to talk to her.

You grimaced at the scene. Your friend gently touched your arm, “she’s like… the epicenter of lesbian drama, you really should let her go.”

You frowned, “yeah… maybe you’re right.”

Alicia left Leighton in peace and Leighton quickly darted to where drinks were being served. She angrily threw back two shots of vodka in rapid succession and then began counting in her head while waiting for the bartender to pour her a third.

Leighton felt like the room was spinning. She wasn’t that drunk already, was she? Over the next few minutes, she became a victim to an onslaught of sensations: her throat tightened, her mouth filled with weirdly warm saliva, her ribs hurt, her hands tremored and all she could hear was her own racing heart pounding in her ears.

Leighton beelined for the bathroom and barely got the door locked before she was retching into the toilet, this time, completely involuntarily.

She started sobbing as she flushed the toilet and the sobbing quickly evolved into hyperventilating. Leighton crouched on the floor and hugged her knees to her chest while spiraling down into the worst panic attack she’d ever had.

Almost an hour passed and you hadn’t seen Leighton reappear after she had spoken with Alicia.

“I’ll be right back,” you told your friends as you walked away and approached the brunette, “hey, Alicia, do you know where Leighton is?”

“Oh, um, I think she was going to grab a drink? Why?”

“I’m just looking for her, thanks.”

You started to squeeze between people at the party, heading toward the drinks.

When you passed the bathroom, you saw someone banging on the door and shouting, “come on, you’ve been in there for like thirty minutes! I gotta piss!”

There was no answer from inside the bathroom. The yelling party guest tried the door handle again and it was locked.

You slid past the shouting person and knocked on the door, “hey, uh, Leighton? Is that you in there? It’s… it’s your genie…”

You heard a gasp and a sniffle from inside the bathroom and then the door unlocked. You grabbed the handle and opened the door.

“Hey what the fuck? No cutting the line!”

“Find somewhere else to piss!” You responded before closing and locking the door again and finding yourself standing over the form of Leighton Murray crouching on the bathroom floor, tears streaming down her face.

Leighton could barely speak while hyperventilating, she choked out words between gasps for air, “it’s… happ- happening… again!”

You knelt down beside her and wrapped your arms around her, “Leighton it’s okay… you’re safe. You’re going to be alright.”

Leighton trembled in your arms and continued to sob. Her breathing was ragged and high in her throat. She gripped your forearm tightly and nearly carved crescent moons into your skin with her nails but you didn’t mind.

You slid the fur coat she was wearing off her shoulders and untied the costume scarf around her head, “is this okay?”

She nodded, so you took the pins out of her updo and ran your fingers through her hair to ease it out of the tight style and let it fall down her back.

Slowly but surely, Leighton calmed. Enough, at least, to speak, “I hate this… I wish this wouldn’t keep happening… I’m falling apart…”

“Oh, Leighton…” you hugged her as tight as you could and rubbed her back.

She buried her face into the crook of your neck while her crying slowed and her breathing continued to steady. Leighton sniffled, pulled away slightly and wiped her nose on her sleeve, “I’m… I’m such a fucking mess…”

You wiped the streaks of tears off of her cheek with the back of your hand. You didn’t have the faintest idea of what to say at this moment so you just remained quiet, giving her the option to fill the silence if she wanted to.

“Why… Why do you keep rescuing me?”

“I don’t know, Leighton… it just seems like you need it right now."

She stared at you for a moment with wide eyes, wet and red from crying, “what do I do?”

“Let's just focus on getting you out of here, kay?”

Leighton nodded.

You took her hands and slowly stood with her, “there, take it slow, that’s it. I’ve got you.”

You led Leighton out of the party with your arm around her shoulder and the other hand holding hers.

Leighton interlaced her fingers with yours and squeezed you so tight that it almost hurt. Once you were outside of the building, she took a deep breath of chilly air and closed her eyes for a moment.

When she was ready, you started along the path to her dorm, which you knew now.

“Can I make a strange request?” she asked softly.

“What’s up?”

“Could… could I maybe crash at yours? Just for tonight, of course… I don’t… I don’t want to go back to my room…”

“You’re sure that’s what you want?”

Leighton nodded nervously.

“Then, yes, of course. You can come to my dorm.”

You instructed Leighton to sit on your bed while you grabbed a pajama shirt and sweatshorts of yours for her to sleep in.

Handing her the folded clothes, you said, “the bathroom is just through there. Do you need anything else? I think I have a backup toothbrush around here somewhere…”

“I… that would be nice… are you sure this is okay?”

“It’s totally okay, I promise.”

You found an unopened toothbrush and gave it to her and Leighton went into the bathroom to change.

She came back out a few minutes later while you were laying a blanket and pillow on your futon couch and opening it up to it’s flat position.

“Thank you,” Leighton began, “you’re really a godsend.”

You smiled, “you’re welcome, but it’s nothing really. I’m happy to help. The bed is all yours, I’ll sleep here tonight.”

“What? No, no! I’m the one crashing let me take the couch-”

“No, Leighton. Please, take the bed. I want you to.”

“That’s… really sweet.”

“Are you ready for bed now, or do you want to do something to wind down first? We could watch something, or whatever you want really.”

Leighton smiled softly, “I’d like that. I should also text my roommates so they know I’m not dead.”

“Good idea,” you sat down and opened up your laptop, loading Netflix, “ooh do you want popcorn?”

Leighton’s eyes lit up, “you have popcorn?!”

“Yeah, just the microwave kind. Is that okay?”

“That sounds incredible right now.”

Leighton texted her suitemates that she was okay while you popped popcorn in the dorm kitchen on your floor and then you found yourselves sitting beside each other on your bed with your laptop in your lap. You ate popcorn and watched the pilot of The Good Place and laughed until Leighton was fast asleep on your shoulder.

You turned the show off and carefully slid out from beneath Leighton’s head while laying her down on the pillow. She stirred while you put the blankets over her and cracked an eye open.

“Hey, you fell asleep…”

“Mmmkay… g’night…” she mumbled.

You giggled, “night, Leighton. See you in the morning.”

“Mmhmm…” Leighton closed her eyes again and was out like a light.

#leighton murray #leighton murray fanfiction #leighton murray & reader #the sex lives of college girls #tslocg #reneé rapp #my fanfiction #my writing #original writing #breaking down

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