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#peach salinger
petitesombres · 20 days
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Shay Mitchell for Louis Vuitton
Paris, march 2024
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perkqularkreashions · 2 months
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Living with the Enemy, Joe Goldberg x Reader
Part 1: Last Nice Guy in New York??
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Prompt: YN is close friends with Peach, Annika, Beck, and Lynn. She doesn't fit into their circle, nor does she try to. Joe soon sets his sights on YOU, leading to a domino effect within Y/N's life.
Requested: YES | Requested are OPEN|
Warnings: Mature Content, Manipulation, Stalking, Slightly Proofread.
It had been some time since you last spoke with Peach and her willing and obedient entourage. You blissfully ignored them, avoiding the usual hangouts and skipping daily walks with your son. You took different routes and dined at other eateries, and for a while, you enjoyed this simple and slow-paced lifestyle. 
It was a particularly warm day in New York; the increasing winds had died, allowing you to turn off the space heaters that litter your apartment. You relished the smell of cleaning products and baby formula rather than burning rubber. You watched as Rafi bounced around in his walker from his room back to the living room. His hand slapped against some trinket that sang a quick tune of “You are my sunshine.” It was probably his favorite plaything on that bouncer, but it annoyed the absolute hell out of you. The loud and high-pitched continuous loop of "you are my sunshine... my only sunshine", but he loved it, so you endure it. You cracked open the window, allowing the fresh air to filter into the apartment, the warm breeze washing over you briefly before returning to stillness. Contently, you sighed. Your eyes flickered to the door; a hesitant knock followed by two more confident knocks. You shuffled off the couch, unable to gaze through the peephole due to the grime built up over the years. You mentally noted that you need to tell the landlord about that. Unlocking your three deadbolts, you pressed your ear against the door, hearing the muffled female voices.
You opened the door and noticed Peach, Beck, Lynn, and Annika. Your eyes widened as you stumbled back, Peach charging into the apartment. Her eyes glanced around as she brightly smiled at Rafi before returning her cold gaze to you. She crosses her arms, waiting for you to fill the silence with an apology. The tension hung in the air like a heavy fog, palpable and suffocating everyone as they all watched you, their once easy rapport replaced by an uneasy silence. Every word left unsaid seemed to echo between them, filling the space with a sense of unease that was almost tangible. You chuckled before turning away, gathering some of Rafi’s items out of habit. “You don’t just go MIA for weeks like that!” Everyone slowly shifts into the apartment; you feel suffocated. “I called, you never answer.”
You plainly answered, “I know.” You shoved some clothes into the hamper before returning to the group. You tried to think of something to say and formulate something harsh and crude to say back to Peach and her brainless minions that followed her every call, jumping at the snap of her fingers and pleading for some sort of acceptance from her. You sighed, sitting on the sage-colored love seat, your elbows resting on your knees as you rubbed your temples gently. “Peach, you and your…whatever this is. Can happily get the fuck out of my apartment. You can’t just storm into my home and expect me to drop to my knees begging for you to what…forgive me?” 
You felt the couch dip next to you, the smell of her engulfing you. It iterated the fuck out of you yet offered you a warm feeling. She was home; despite her manipulation, gas-lighting, and bitch behavior, she was home. You finally looked at her, your face growing warm as you pressed your lips together. Her smile growing as she knew, she squealed, wrapping her arms around you. “Say you forgive us… me?” You nodded against her before pulling back. “Great, let’s go out to eat! We’ve missed you and have lots to catch you up on!”
You nodded, pressing a feigned smile on her lips; Annika smiled, wrapping you in a brief, one-armed hug. She was followed by Lyn, who seemed more than pleased that you had returned. They moved away, gawking at Rafi as they spoke with him in an annoying, high-pitched tone. They were flashing toys in front of him before snatching them quickly as he giggled loudly. You stood beside Beck; an awkward silence washed over you both. Beck wanted to speak… she wanted to ask if what Peach had been filling in her head was true. Suppose you had been trying to pine after Joe; how would she feel? She admitted her feelings for Joe were growing; she liked having him around and the attention he provided her when Benji was off on a binge of whatever drug would provide him with whatever relief. “We missed you… I missed you,” Beck spoke, cutting through the silence. 
“I’m sorry,” You mumbled, bumping into her shoulder and offering her a half smile. She tucked a small piece of hair behind her ear.  
“I’ve been dying to tell you about everything, I mean everything,” Beck whispers through her laugh as she watches you for a moment. Beck confided you about everything; you weren’t judgmental and never gave advice—you were just a lending ear that she craved in the whirlpool that was Peach. You sighed, knowing that no matter where you were in your life and how far you thought you had escaped Peach, she was always lurking in the shadows, ready to devour you at any minute.
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You hummed softly, your hand occasionally, moving the visor back to check to see if your son was still alive. Your hand fluttered in front of his face; quickly, he reached for your fingers. You had spent most of the morning shopping for groceries and wanting to find some fresh produce. You gathered green apples, strawberries, and some blueberries. It has been a slow-paced morning; class was canceled, you were finally caught up on your assignments, and only needed to grade some papers from some of your classes. You hadn’t seen Peach since your lunch date with the girls two weeks ago. It was spent, for the most part, talking about Beck’s choices in men and the plethora of men that have taken her to bed… all this steaming from Benji ghosting her. You didn’t know what she saw in him, but he was a poser and couldn’t hold down an idea, let alone his own business. She had fucked, Mr. Bedroom Eyes, someone that she had met in the library, all while leading on Joe and worrying about Benji.
Your eyes shifted slightly; noticing him underneath the navy-blue baseball cap, he examined the fruit before placing it down. You smiled brightly, peering left and right before approaching him. You stuttered for a moment; wait is it weird that you were approaching him? Did you even need to say hello? You stood behind him, mindlessly watching his gaze at the fruit. Weaving through the throngs of people as your eyes held steady on him, your hands tightening against the stroller. Panic surged through you, threatening to overwhelm my senses as your hands hesitantly reach out to his shoulder. Joe jumped as he spun around; a toothy grin fell on his lips as his eyes shifted to Rafi. “Sorry, this must be weird.” You quickly tried to explain, and yet there you stood. 
“No!” Joe smiled, “No weird at all.” He watched you, taking in your beauty from the curve of your lips to the furrow of your brows. Your eyes are a soft color, filled with so much emotion. He contained his excitement, continuing to handle the slightly ripe peach in his hand. A soft breath of relief escaped your lips; Joe watched you, taking in every moment, from the twitch of your eye when you smiled to the slight tightening of your hands against the stroller’s handle. Were you nervous? You didn’t need to be! I am all yours! Joe’s thoughts muddled aggressively through his head, his eyes concentrating more on your slight movements, the way you shifted your weight to your left hip as you stood there, watching him. Your index finger nervously taps before stopping.
“Good, I thought it’d be weird if I recognized you in this crowded space,” you laughed; it was soft. A small smile crept on his face as he moved closer to you, a single step to be closer to you. You slightly shifted, leaning against the stroller as you pushed it in front of you before bringing it back. “It’s nice to see you again.” Your heart fluttered as you watched his goofy take hold of his lips. His cheeks dusted pink as he nodded hesitantly; he stepped forward, watching you walk away in the crowd, occasionally wiggling your fingers in front of your son’s view. 
“Are you alone?” Joe mentally cringed as you paused, peering over your shoulder in confusion, “I meant, I could keep you company while you go shopping… If you don’t mind.” Do you mind? You wouldn’t mind, would you? Joe thought; he watched you ponder his offer, and you fully faced him as you smiled, nodding at him. Joe joined you, shoulders bumping into each other as you continued to walk through the farmer’s market. Looking at the different herbs and vegetation sprawled on the tables, you fingered at them, rubbing your fingers with a concentrated look on your face as Joe pushed Rafi. Joe watched you in awe, his hand gripping against the stroller in angst and yearning. He watched you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear; you quickly turned to him, putting a strong-smelling herb in his face. He winced as he swatted at his nose; you laughed softly before agreeing with the saleswoman that the left one was more pungent. 
“My mom made this weird-tasting soup for me when I was sick, but it always helped. It helps when Rafi has a little bug. He hates it; he scratches at my arms when I force-feed it to him.” You laughed, showing him the small craters in her skin that hadn’t healed properly. Joe took your arm, letting his thumb trace over the craters. “He’s so mean when he wants to be; I guess he gets that from his dad.” Joe watched you, taking in every word that was said. 
“His dad hit you?” You were stunned; you placed the herbs in your tote bag before looking at Rafi, making a slight face and tickling him. Joe observed you, your face tense as you seemingly tried to feign enjoyment in the brief time with your son. He watched how you weren’t standing so close to him; your shoulders still touched every again, but not the same as before. Joe cursed at himself for bringing it up; Joe hated that he made you feel so small and helpless again. You froze at the sound of your name; Joe noticed it, too. He peered over his shoulder seeing someone rush to you, his hand waving wildly as he began to jog to catch up to you. He called your name again. Joe’s eyes flickered at you, and you were frozen, eyes wide in fear. Joe leaned closer to you, but you were snapped out of thoughts when the man stood directly behind you. You slowly turned, now facing the stranger. Joe watched the man; something about was familiar, the curve of his lip and the bushiness of his brow. His hair was long and pulled into a rendition of a man-bun with some pieces falling in front of his face; he was clean-shaven and muscular. His skin was a deep cooper color that glistened but wasn’t sweat…more of an oil-based lotion. 
“It’s been so long!” he smiled with a bright smile, teeth perfect and in a row, no obscurities or imperfection. He tried reaching out for a hug, but you backed away, letting a small smile rest on your lips. You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t have to for Joe to notice how uncomfortable you were. “Who’s this?” His eyes never left yours. Joe could see the intimidation in his eyes, and his smile never reached his eyes when he spoke. 
Joe moved the stroller before him, stretching his hand in the process; a bright smile rested on his lips. “Joe.” The man didn’t acknowledge him or care for his name. Finally, he passed him a glance, his face churning into a distasteful look. His eyes moved to the stroller, and as a bright smile crossed his lips, he bent down for a moment. Wiggling at Rafi’s shoes, speaking in a babbled baby talk before looking up to you again. 
“You know he misses you and him; you shouldn’t run away. Especially with his child.” The man spoke, and he stood to his feet. “See around.” He spoke before brushing past you. Joe grabbed your arm, and you winced momentarily, flinching away from him. Your eyes finally connected with Joe’s; you sucked in a deep breath before grabbing unto the stroller. A sense of comfort washed over you. 
“Thanks for today… for this. I appreciate it,” you hummed. Joe nodded, watching you walk away; his eyes focused on the man who had ruined your perfect day together. It started innocently enough, stumbling into an impromptu game of hide-and-seek. Plunging into the maze of crowds, Joe found himself, trailing the stranger, drawn by the same curiosity that everyone in the market has. Joe shadowed his movements, picking up a weathered journal or a fruit that was slightly ripe. His eyes cut to the man every chance he had gotten. As Joe meanders through the maze of makeshift booths and colorful displays, the man he’s following remains blissfully unaware of his presence. They weave through the crowd, partaking in a dance that only Joe is aware of. 
“Dom! Dom! Dom Batista! As I live and breathe in the flesh it is you!” Joe groaned at the dramatic nature of New Yorkians, every word that stumbles out of their mouth an illicit affair with Shakespeare and a Soap Opera. “It has been so long since we’ve last seen each other!”
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Joe followed behind you, face low as he watched you hurriedly move through the streets, passing men and women alike. 
Batista….Batista….Batista is the name of a Judge in New York City; their mother was an actress who starred in plenty of movies before her fall from grace and getting addicted to cocaine. They had three children, three boys: Jonathan, the oldest—who was a criminal defense attorney. He was married with two sons. He didn’t post on social media, but his wife, Mary Glassgo, came from an Affluent family in Virginia who had established wealth through “other means.” during the late 1700s, did, in fact, post and posted often. She was overly descriptive and pictured all the locations where they dined, shopped, and vacationed. She was on a trip with her two sons, enjoying the mountains in Vermont.  The caption was, “Can’t get away from life all the time, but when I do, it’s always with my two favorite boys.” Joe followed you across the street, scrolling through her Instagram until he came across a photo from Thanksgiving; he dragged his thumb across the screen, revealing a picture of her and another man who looked similar to Jonathan, tagged was St_Do_Batista. Dominick, the middle— Joe, recgonized him as the man he saw today; he frequently posted almost every day at the gym. He was a professional boxer; his face wasn’t riddled with too many lacerations and scars, which indicated that he was good at his craft. He had a girlfriend, one of many girlfriends. They all came and gone, as soon as a new one would be posted with a bright smile, not knowing her fate. Petite blondes, curvy brunettes, tall red-heads, even some bald girls with tattoos riddling every surface of their bodies.  
“Hello….” Joe thought; he scrutinized the photo, and you were smiling, your cheek pressed against him as you embraced him. He just won a fight; he hugged you tight. Joe scrolled to the following image… it was a video; he played it. You giggled as he spun, cheering as one hand held you tight against him. You spoke gently, words that the camera didn’t pick up, nor did anyone else. He continued to scroll as he noticed that most photos were of you cooking in his house, at the park with him, on his couch with the laptop tucked on your thighs as you carefully examined whatever was on the screen. You took up a majority of his life and then nothing. Joe saw a picture of him and another look similar to the Batista family; he clicked on the tagged name. RafiBat didn’t post much, but when he did, he generated a lot of attention from women. He was a boxer, too, and he and his brother were often referred to as the Basista Brothers. He didn’t post you often, once or twice; that was in photos with Dominick. But it was evident that you both were friends. He was attending a university known for its Marine Biology program. He had been traveling overseas, where he had been for the last few months, pictures of him with sharks, fish, turtles, and some other classmates. There was a picture of you, smiling brightly in his bed with her belly exposed; it was small, possibly in the early months of your pregnancy. His caption read “My Everything.”
Joe’s attention was averted to the left as he noticed someone briskly walking, eyes concentrated on you. His hand dug into his pocket as he pulled out his phone, dialing quickly. He spoke before hanging up. Did you not notice? Did you feel someone following you? Joe broke off in a sprint, laughing softly before calling out your name; you peered over your shoulder in confusion, hesitating as you squinted your eyes at him. 
Joe’s body collided against yours, taking your hand as he smiled gently. “Why’d you run off like that? I was looking for you everywhere!” he calls out exaggeratedly loud, his hand falling at his side; he watched your wide eyes swiftly snap to him while he continued to guide you forward, Joe’s hand pressed on your lower back. “Someone has been following you,” he whispered through a gritted smile. Her body stiffened as his words echoed through the stillness in the air; you were tempted to look, her head inching to the left slightly. “No, don’t look… Just keep walking baby.” You hummed in understanding. Joe peered over his shoulder, watching the man avoiding the dim street lights, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his body focused ahead of him, but he could see the whites of his eyes and the darkness of his orbs staring deep into your side. Then Joe remembered the small encounter you had at Peach’s party, the drunken party-goer grabbing you, retelling his woes of missing their friend group and a man who seemed to miss you just as much. Your body reacted negatively, your eyes watering, and your skin paled as you stumbled away from him.  Joe watched your hands dance against your face, trying to wipe the anxiety that was trailing through your body. Joe wanted to lead you home, protecting you from the evils lurking in the shadows you weren’t aware of. Joe allowed you to lead you both to your apartment complex. Joe swiftly grabbed Rafael, allowing you to close the stroller. You put in the code 76477; Joe held open the door as you shuffled in your hands, digging through your satchel in search of your keys. He noticed three locks; just as if you practiced this a hundred times, you easily unlocked the door. 
Joe smelled deeply, taking in the scent of baby powder and your aroma. Rafael rested against his neck, his chest breathing gently as he slept. His tiny breaths could be heard as they smacked against his pacifier. Joe scanned your apartment again; it was vastly bigger than Beck’s and his. His eyes fell on an opening; it wasn’t too big but just big enough to have a window, an oak-colored crib decorated with white and green. “You can just set him down in there…He won’t last too long in the crib,” He heard your voice as you locked the front door. You were latching on the deadbolts and other self-brought knick-knacks. Joe set Rafi down, brushing his hair out his face; he squirmed slightly in a panic. Joe quickly turned on the mobile, slightly out of reach for Rafi. He pressed a button; the mobile began to hum to live, and soon, water sounds came on. Splashing, sounds of whales and dolphins, and what seems like rain hitting the waters. It was soothing, and Rafi’s face soon mellowed. Joe allowed Rafi to hold unto his finger; his grip was tight as his body sprawled on the crib’s mattress.
“He usually isn’t so peaceful to put down. He must like you.” He heard you whisper; Joe peered over his shoulder, watching your head pressed against the door’s frame. Joe removed his finger, returning his attention to you. You walked out of the room as Joe followed you. The silence washed over you as you paced around the room, trying to find the right words. Joe stood there, waiting, allowing you to take as much time as needed. 
“Joe?” You finally whispered, your eyes finally landing on him. In that moment, Joe felt your souls tying together, latching and burning into each other. “Thank you.” you pushed out, tucking your bottom lip into your teeth. 
“I noticed him following you after the market…I didn’t know what to do but when I saw him trying to cross the street… Who is he?” 
“Dominick, my ex’s brother. Rafi’s father.” Joe nodded; you trusted him, you trusted him. You weren’t a liar like Beck, “Dom and I were close; I even thought we would be together, but then he got a girlfriend. He stopped coming around, that’s when I met Rafael, he was gentle at first…but I guess that was the point. I had a fling with him and then with his brother, shit just got messy fast, and I got pregnant. That’s when he got abusive… I tried pressing charges, but his dad always dropped the cases, saying that I was a daughter of a junky prostitute and a “john.” I asked for a different judge and each time I was denied. I was finally….finally allowed to get a restraining against him, but it expired, and I wasn’t allowed to renew due to no current impending dangers.” Joe watched you; he stepped close to you, grabbing your arms. You sighed, looking up at him. 
“If you need anything, anything… I am here for you.” Joe whispers; you nod, folding your arms underneath each other.
Please ask me to say; please beg me to stay. Joe thought; he nodded as he moved away from the couch. “Joe, wait!” You stood up, “You don’t mind staying for the night, do you? I would feel comfortable with a man around the house… just for the night.” Your voice is soft, and Joe could tell you needed him. He couldn’t deny you. He peered over his shoulder and smiled. 
The night progressed as you lay in the bed, shifting uncomfortably in the bed. Your eyes squeezing shut, trying to feign being asleep in hopes of tricking your mind into slumber.
“Joe, are you sleeping?” You called out into the darkness, “Joe?” You called out once more, panicked; you sat up quickly squinting through the darkness as you watched his chest slowly fall and rise. You sighed for a moment, shifting comfortably in the bed.
“Yes?” 
Joe rises from the couch, groaning as he shuffles to you. He crawls into bed, and you open the covers, allowing him to slide in. His eyes were low from being awoken from his sleep, his hands tight as he observed you move closer to him. You craved his warmth; a sense of comfort and protection seeped through to you. Your eyes focused on Joe’s, watching through the stillness of the night and the slight light that the moon gave you. His hand gently reached out, tucking your hair behind your ear, holding onto the strand until he reached the end. He moved closer, pressing a kiss on your forehead. He held it, trying to compose himself. He didn’t want to push himself onto you; he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He wasn’t going to be like your ex or your father. Joe pulled back, your eyes fluttering open hesitantly, and you moved closer to him. Your lips molded together, smacking in the silence as your slight hums vibrated into his mouth. He pulled away; you were vulnerable and seeking out comfort in him. He needed to wait to see if this feeling rang true. He wanted you more than you could know, more than he thought possible. He couldn’t take advantage of you like this, not right now… not ever. He cuffed your cheek, kissing your forehead before you, wishing you a good night.
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Burning something evoked a wide range of emotions in Joe, a symbol of something new shifting in the atmosphere. The flicker of a match igniting, the scent of smoke swirling in the air, and the crackle of flames consuming the body— the overwhelming sensory experiences that engage him in the death of Benji. He stood over the growing flames, watching them dance against his body; Joe thought he would feel at ease. He couldn’t–his mind racing back to you and Rafi. Joe grew angry, feeling compelled to kill Benji; he was powerless against the woe of Beck, her smile and innocence being stripped away. It's as if his autonomy is being stripped away, leaving him feeling vulnerable and exposed. The heightened feelings of frustration and resentment began to grow through this loss of control. 
He thought of you as he smelled the charred remains of Benji, your face dancing in the flames. He sighed, pushing his forearm against his brow. He quickly dialed you; he needed to hear your voice. 
“Joey?” Joe heard you whisper, soothing all anxieties that rushed through him. His hand gripping the steering wheel. “Joey? Everything alright?” He hummed, letting his head rest against the steering wheel. It has been one month since he had forced his way into your apartment, leaving articles of clothing behind and coming up with any excuse to stay the night, not that you minded. He had a key to your apartment now, coming in the mornings and getting Rafi together for daycare as you prep for classes and graded papers. Your glasses hung off the bridge of your nose while you gnawed on the cap of the pen—your eyes shifting from the monitor to the paper as you scribbled some markings on it before moving on to the next. The way his lips danced against yours, his hands gently caressed your skin as your lips tangled.
“Yes, everything is alright.” He heard you shuffling, the covers shifting off your body. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No, Joey, no, you didn’t. What’s wrong?” You could always read him; you would always tell. You didn’t even have to look at him to see that something was picking at him. He knew that you were good for him; you were everything that he needed you to be. Joe remained silent; the only that was heard was Rafi’s babbling. “Just come over and well talk, okay.”
“Okay.” Joe hung up and made his way to you, his head spinning from his recent murder. His fingers trembled as he pulled down your street, finding a parking spot adjacent to your apartment building. He moved out of the car. His key jingled in the locks swiftly; you swung open the door, watching in bewilderment. Worry drawn on your eyebrows and lips. “Joey, what is going on? Was it—”
“No…no, just Beck.” You nodded for a moment, allowing him to enter the apartment; slamming the door, you proceeded to deadbolt the locks. You stared at the final lock, trying to compose yourself; he wasn’t yours. You were just friends. Why did it hurt at the mention of her name at the thought of him being at her apartment, embracing her? “She just makes me insane, always having to watch her and look out for her. All the lies and the—” You picked up the clothes that scattered the floor, tossing them in Rafi’s dirty clothes hamper. Mindlessly, you grabbed the toys, tossing them in a bin as they interrupted his sentence. 
“I see.” was all you could mumble out, your eyes flickering to him. He continued to ramble about how he didn’t trust her–how she was always so secretive around him. But that was Beck; the doe-like look in her eyes always masked the truth that crawled beneath the surface. She was manipulative; everything she did was calculated and meticulous. Her bold red lip contrasted against her pale skin, and her dress revealed just enough of her thigh to keep her professor yearning for more. The way she teased and poked at man’s most animalistic and primitive yearning, dangling it in front of their face before yanking it. You turned to face him, letting the hamper fall against the floor. 
“I frankly don’t want to hear about Beck. I understand she’s your girlfriend or whatever she is but, I can’t take hearing about her. When you’re sitting in my apartment, helping me take care of my son… playing house with me. I don’t want to hear about Beck. I get enough of her when I am with them. Every issue that plagues her, I hear about, all the damn time. Benji, you, the Captian. I can’t–I just can’t do it.” You turn away, heated you move into the bathroom face burning with embarrassment and angry. Angrily you slapped at the knob, turning on the hot water on. It screeched for a moment before the hot water spit out.
As you step into the shower, the hot water cascades over your skin, offering a momentary reprieve from the turmoil. Droplets dance across your body, carrying away the remnants of anger and frustration that cling to you like a heavy cloak. With each passing second, the tension melts away, replaced by a soothing sensation of renewal. You close your eyes, allowing the water to envelop you completely, washing away the Beck and Joe's monologue that echoed in your mind. Steam fills the air, wrapping you in a comforting embrace as you stand beneath the gentle stream, letting it cleanse your body and soul. Slowly, the weight of the conversation begins to lift, replaced by a sense of clarity and calm. In this sanctuary of steam and solitude, you find solace. You sighed as the shower opened; you saw his feet planted in the shower and the sound of a soft sigh resting in the air. You feel his hands gliding against your waist, pulling you closer to him. His lips pecked your shoulder, sucking in the aroma that cascaded around him. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?”  His hand gently drummed your abdomen, his cock hardening against you as he pecked at you, his hands moving to your breast, kneading at them slowly, letting his fingers squeeze and tug at your nipples. 
“Please, forgive me” he whispered; you couldn’t say no to him. So, you nodded, turning around fully to face him. Pressing a gently kiss against his lip, stepping out of the shower, grabbing the towel as you instantly moved to Rafi’s crib. 
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As the tears streamed down his Rafi’s flushed cheeks, Joe’s heart ached with empathy. With gentle hands, he lifted the sobbing child into his arms, cradling him against his chest, his hand rubbing circles against his back something that he noticed his mom and he liked. Leaning close, he murmured soothing words in a soft, reassuring tone, his voice a balm to the boy's distressed soul. With each gentle stroke of his hand and whispered promise, Joe felt the tension begin to melt away from his Rafi’s trembling form. He rocked him back and forth, a steady rhythm that mirrored the beating of his own heart, a silent vow to always be there to chase away the shadows and dry the tears. Joe moved back your bed, and you reached out your arms, allowing Rafi to settle into your chest and Joe to cuddle back into your side. Rafi was a crybaby and wanted you to hold him 25/8; you wanted to break him out of that habit. Joe and you had been working on getting him to sleep through the night in his crib, it would only last two nights out of the week before Joe caved and dragged himself to Rafi’s crib, engulfing him in his arms. You didn’t bother to correct him; you could tell that something was off with him. You two didn’t speak much after your moment the shower; you didn’t try to get him to speak either.
A heavy knock on the door had woken Joe; he hissed in frustration, moving the walker out of the way as he stumped his toe against it. He looked back, seeing Rafi whining for him, his arm stretched as he crawled closer to the edge of the bed. Joe scooped him up, snatching your phone and checking the time—7:37 AM. He grunted as he moved to unlock the deadbolts and finally the door. The door swung open, revealing Peach. Her eyes widened as she glanced at Joe; quickly, she shook her head, trying to find the right words to say but couldn’t. Peach observed him, eyes squinted in fury and confusion. “She’s sleeping Peach.”
She called out your name, moving into the living room, her eyes falling on you as you lay in bed. Her head snapped to Joe, realizing that he was in his boxers. “What the fuck! What did you do to her?” Peach asked as she tried to grab Rafi. Joe stiffed her and backed away as she continued to reach for your son. 
Joe held Rafi tightly in his arms as Peach had her outstretched arms and a determined frown on her face. Ignoring Joe’s protective grip, Peach reached for the child, her fingers brushing against Joe’s before clasping around the little one's hand. Joe’s heart skipped a beat, a surge of protectiveness welling up within him. He pulled back, his hand resting against Rafi’s back as he watched Peach’s face morph, her eyes narrowing before he turned her attention to you. 
“Peach? What–What are you doing?” You shifted from the covers, you were in a grey crewneck, a B printed in brown and outlined in red. Your hair messing tied away from your face as you squinted to fully focus on her. 
“No! No—what are you doing?” She hisses, stomping towards you, your finger jabbing into the air as she throws her hands dramatically. 
“Peach, he was just—I saw Dominick. Since then, he has been here for me. Nothing… Nothing else has been going on.” You shouted over her rambles. Something in her face changed; she slammed her mouth shut, looking at you, taking in your words. She grabbed the back of her arm, holding it tighter to her person. Joe noticed the slight change in her demeanor at the mention of Dominick; he scared her. 
“Did you–” You quickly shook her hand, stretching out your hands for Rafi; Joe quickly moved to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed as Rafi crawled into your lap. Joe’s hands rested on top of yours; he pressed his lips against Rafi’s head before cuffing your chin. He rose to his feet. He grabbed his things, placing them on his clothes. He jiggled his phone before leaving out of your apartment, a silent single for you to call him when she leaves. “When did that happen?”
“Nothing happened. He just was here for me at the time and… I trust him.” Peach laughs, sitting on the bed. 
“Trust him, absolutely not. You know he’s playing you just like he’s playing Beck!” You rolled your eyes, unsure of what to make of her accusations. I mean, they weren’t incorrect in their entirety. Joe had a fleeting romance with Beck and probably still does. “He’s using you. I lost Beck to him, and I am not going to lose you. In this stupid ideology where you think you need him! You don’t need him! I am here for you; call me if you are feeling scared; call me if you are feeling down!” 
“I know” you mumbled, caressing Rafi. “I shouldn’t trust him” you confessed. “I really shouldn’t” a bitter laugh left your throat as you chocked on a sob that rose in your throat. 
“He could be like Rafael! You are so blinded by love that you didn’t see it then, but I did, and now, I do.” Peach whispered, as she inched in Joe’s spot. Resting her head against your chest, her hands wrapping against your torso. 
 Joe stood outside the closed door, his fists clenched at his sides, he strained to hear the muffled voices from within. Anger simmered beneath his skin, fueled by the snippets of conversation that reached his ears. Each word felt like a dagger, piercing through the thin veneer of his composure. He could hear her strained voice, a mixture with a Peach’s voice—a voice that grated on his nerves like sandpaper. His jaw tightened, muscles coiling with tension as he fought the urge to burst through the door and confront the source of his jealousy head-on. The temptation to intervene, to demand answers, pulsed through him like a steady drumbeat, drowning out reason and restraint. With every passing moment, his anger mounted, a raging inferno threatening to consume him whole. Yet, for now, he remained on the other side of the door, a silent witness to his own unraveling emotions. Something needed to happen, Peach was always in the way, the intricate dance of relationships that she always blocked. Stepping on his toes and stealing you away from him. Tangling you in her grasp, the same spell that Beck was under.  She was a figure looming in the background, casting a shadow over any potential romance that Joe worked so hard to grow and nourish. Her presence was like a shield, deflecting any attempts at romantic advancement with a casual remark or a well-timed interruption. 
He needed to kill her; her undoing was all the fault of her own. 
Goodbye Peach Sallinger. 
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madwomansapologist · 6 months
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peach salinger being obsessed with you would include
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Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Library | More Peach Salinger | AO3
synopsis: When you met Peach Salinger at Brown, somehow you just got the feeling that she would be important for you. When Peach first saw you wandering the college halls in search of your class, she knew you were the one. And no one, not even you, would ever change that.
warnings: yandere!peach salinger. manipulation. codependency. controlling behavior. substance abuse. jealousy. gaslighting. groping. nudes. in this house we support women's wrong (literally. since the first day. just read my acount name). female!reader.
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• Being already late to your first day of college, it only made you more and more anxious that you couldn't find your classroom. Lucky for you, Peach Saling was your knight in a shining armor.
• Peach Salinger was something else. The right name, the right talent, the right face. Everything seemed to work out for her. While you were still struggling to pay your bills, dealing with jobs that didn't bring you any happiness, discovering that living alone meant much more than just privacy; Peach was already at her peak.
• As your senior, it was only natural for Peach to had dealt with something that just now you were facing. She helped you with what teachers to avoid and what to rely on. Quickly she turned into someone you wanted to talk to. Than someone you would vent to. Than she was your someone.
• Meetings in hallways, a few shared classes, turned into going out for coffee and walks together. Without realizing it, the perfect Instagram photo dates turned into you with a towel over your head and a green hydratation mask trying to learn how to use your coffee machine while Peach freaked out over a friend who threw an initiation party when she was the one who came up with the idea first.
• Peach Salinger wasn't used to people really caring for her. Of course there are a lot of people that want to be her, to have what she owns, to wear her skin. Many people would die to talk to her, to touch her, to lay with her. But people willing to know her? To see her, hear her, understand her: there isn't a lot that fit into this description.
• She is your best friend. You said that so naturally. Like you didn't even thought you may be wrong. Like you didn't even imagined Peach didn't already knew that. Her smile made her cheeks throb.
• Best friends forever. That's nice. That's really fucking great. But Peach didn't become who she is by lying to herself. She wants more than that. More of you. Peach would never be satisfied with this hunger for you. She could eat you whole and it wouldn't be enough.
• Peach knew all she needed to do was to wait. Because one day you will look at her and realize that no one could ever be better than Peach fucking Salinger. That you would never find someone like her. So she made sure to make you see that.
• Peach made a point of touching you whenever she could. Holding your hand as you both walk, fixing your hair when the breeze moved it from place, holding your thigh when you sat next to her. If Peach's hand was cold and you were cross-legged, she would just stick her hand between your legs. You know, girls things.
• We-are-both-girls was her excuse for eveything. To apply gloss to your lips when you were touching up your makeup. To see the messages you exchanged with your crushes. To snoop through your things while you were working on the computer. To lend you clothes, but not before making you try them on in front of her to see if they would look perfect on you. To sleep cuddled with you.
• Peach loves to just take care of you. For strangers it may even look like you both are on a relationship already. Peach always have medicine with her, bandages for when you use heels, space for your things on her bag. She loves to carry your things with her, and to have you asking for what you want. She knows what coffee you prefer, when you get hungry, how stressed you can get when you're sleepy.
• But she also loves to be the center of attention. To have you taking care of her. Most of the time you do it just because. Like when you bought something for her to eat. Or when you remember what kind of movie she likes. When you brush her hair when she is late to something. But sometimes Peach wants more. She pretends to get sick, what on her case includes taking actual pills to make you worry about her, just to feel you hugging her.
• Peach will defend you from anything. No one can ever do something against you — better: no one can do something Peach think is against you. Once a man thought he had the right to say something about your clothes. Peach made sure a video of him saying shit about the professor working on his thesis went viral.
• You were so close to her that you didn't even thought carefully before revealing that most of your passwords were your birthday or your cat's name. That you didn't even doubt that giving a copy of your apartment key could be a bad choice. That it would be better not to accept Peach's help.
• Peach has more money than she can waste, and of course she tries that with you. So many gifts that you would never have if it wasn't for her. Jewerly she puts on you, dresses she helps you get into, heels she loves to buckle. But when you asked for financial help... Oh, that was something else.
• To help you with your bills means having you even closer to her.
• Sometimes you felt like someone is watching you, but you thought it was a ufounded fear. You didn't even knew the amount of hard drives that Peach had with pictures and videos of you. From mundane things to intimate moments. You reorganizing your kitchen's cabinet, entering a farmacy, dining with a date.
• But the pictures she have of you naked are printed, safe inside her vault.
• It happened once you both got wasted. Peach is stronger when it comes to alcohol, only because she was used to abuse on it, but even her was feeling tipsy. You both went to her home after the party, and on this inebriated state of mind you said something out loud.
• Trying to get rid of your dress, you told her you were feeling so hot you wanted to record it. It was just a silly thing, something you wouldn't say if you were sober, but all Peach did was found a old camera and asked you to pose.
• They started as something innocent. You smiling to the camera, making silly poses, showing off your dress — a gift from Peach. You lay down on her bed, Peach sitting on top of you, so close and yet so far.
• When Peach touched your waist, it was almost as if you could read her mind. You just asked her if she would mind picturing you naked. Of course she wouldn't. So you took of your dress, posing more and more and more. From now on, you weren't looking at the camera. You were looking at her.
• That morning you woke up completely naked on her bed. She has two hundred pictures from that night and a video on her phone of you sleeping.
• One day you will realize that she's the one for you. Until there, Peach you keep on being your best friend forever.
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if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡
@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.
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dailytvwomen · 10 months
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GUINEVERE BECK & PEACH SALINGER IN YOU | S01E04 "The Captain"
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realbeefman · 4 months
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some of y’all clearly don't understand what it's like to avert your eyes when your friend starts changing in front of you and your heart starts pounding in your chest and you could say something, SHOULD say something, tell her to change her clothes in a different room and admit to this freakish attraction that you know she doesn't feel, ruin the friendship by coloring every moment of casual intimacy with the knowledge that you are a pervert who wants more, that you are a threat. you don’t say anything. and you look up and watch the pale expanse of her lower back from the corner of your eye as she pulls on a white blouse, and something lurches in your stomach and you laugh at the joke she just told even though you weren’t really listening to the set-up. later on you will feel sick and guilty and cry alone in a bed that feels empty, but for just a moment, you are laughing with a beautiful girl who loves you, and it doesn’t matter if it’s wrong
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johndoe-lesbo · 1 year
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📝 Are the healthy coping mechanisms in the room with us right now ? 👓
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Fandom: You
Sample Size: 254 stories
Source: AO3
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chezzywezzy · 2 years
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Yandere Love Drabble (1st Place Prize)
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Word count ; 6.1k
*Edited.
*Dedicated to @neverano! This one is pretty angsty. I hope you enjoy!
“…What do you mean you’re breaking up with me?”
Y/n abashed her gaze from the woman in front of her. She clutched her purse to her chest, not able to maintain eye contact. If she did, she knew she’d call it a joke or that it was nothing and she said it accidentally. 
Love was a good person. But sometimes - no, oftentimes - her flaws shone through. She was incredibly possessive and clingy. She met every friend of mine with a scrutinizing glare. She often fantasized about our future as though it were set in stone, even though we’d only been together a few months. She made me so stressed. Whenever Y/n was around her, she was either tolerating her presence or dreading it. 
The relationship was unhealthy. But she was also scared of Love. Each time she brought up their relationship problems or said she was leaving, Love would cry and beg and yell and do anything humanly possible to prevent her from going through with the break up and criticism. 
But, as Y/n finally met her angry, desperate glare, she knew the answer. She gulped as Love took a step closer, backing the woman up to her small kitchen counter within her L.A. apartment.
“I mean it, Love. You’re a wonderful person, b - but —“
“But what?” Love suddenly wailed, her entire composure different. Y/n had set off the ticking time bomb, but this time, she couldn’t falter. “I love you, Y/n. Whatever your friends are telling you is wrong. We’re in love!”
“That’s just the problem, Love!” Y/n shouted back, her voice croaking in fright. “My friends haven’t said anything. Y - you’re too jealous and clingy. You’ve driven me away. You scare everyone around you, including me! You… you’re too erratic.”
She froze, having caged her against the counter. Love’s eyes were blank. It always scared Y/n how quickly her mood could change. Sometimes, she was so very sweet and her sobs seemed genuine. Other times, she was angry. A complete fireball. But whenever emotion was vacant from her passionate age, I knew I was screwed. 
Love’s nails dug into the wood, scratching. Her nose twitched and a sneer threatened to appear. Y/n pressed herself against the counter as much as humanly possible, a few tears escaping. She truly tried not to yell at her. She knew how she hated being yelled at. But when she was such a stubborn person, it was hard.
“Too… erratic,” she parroted, her voice deadly calm and collected. “Too erratic. Too jealous, too clingy, too scary… Y/n, I wanted you to be different from everyone else. I thought you were. I thought you loved me the way I was. So why are you leaving… me?”
Her voice croaked, betraying her true feelings. All at once, her eyes clouded over with tears. Y/n felt so numb to it, though. She often cried and broke down in front of her. But Peach, Y/n’s online best friend, told her how it was manipulative. That she was too good for her. Too self-sacrificing. 
And, as badly as she wanted to hug her close and comfort her, she couldn’t. Love would just take the inch and go a mile, and whenever that happened, Y/n didn’t end up leaving. She ended up in the bed. Because, no matter how difficult Love’s passion and erratic behavior could be, it could also be just that convincing and sweet in the bedroom.
“We’re not good for each other, Love,” she spoke gently. “This is a toxic relationship. Normal people aren’t this way —“
“What if we’re not normal people, Y/n? What about then? Because I’m in love with you and if ou truly didn’t love me, you would’ve left a long time ago —“
“No, Love! I don’t love you. I’m scared of you —“
“Why are you scared of me?” she suddenly shrieked at the top of her lungs. Tears slid down her cheeks and she stumbled away, as though completely disoriented. She pressed herself up against the sink, hyperventilating. “Y - you’re not supposed to be scared of me, Y/n. I love you! And I’m not letting you go. We can work on this —“
“I’m moving, Love.”
Y/n had spoken quietly, slowly shaking her head. Tears shimmered but didn’t break free. She couldn’t meet her intense stare. Everything fell silent and neither of them moved. She had heard the woman. That much was obvious. And yet, when she glanced up, concerned about how heavy her breathing was, Y/n realized she interpreted her words incorrectly.
Instead of anger or sadness or hatred, hope glinted in her eyes. A smile spread to her cheeks. She was beaming and all of the tenseness rolled off of her. She started giggling, but that was even more terrifying. And then, she was looking directly at her.
“You should’ve said so sooner, Y/n!” she chirped happily. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Don’t worry. We don’t have to break up just because you’re moving. But I will need some time to… to prepare for the move. Oh! And I’ll have to take a loan out to start a business a new bakery. And Forty will probably come —“
“No, Love,” Y/n croaked sadly. “You’re not hearing me. I’m leaving because of you. This… thing we have going on… I can’t take it anymore. You’re dangerous, Love. I’m leaving you.”
Her face fell. She was so terribly angry, expression darkened with venom and fury. Shivers rolled down her spine. And yet, Love didn’t scream. She didn’t yell. She didn’t cry. She glared at the woman, a frown burned into her lips. She was waiting for her to move even slightly.
And then, she did. Y/n snatched her purse up from the counter beside her, heart thumping loudly in her chest. A seething screech escaped her lips and she swerved toward the counter behind her. She reached desperately toward the knife block, and fear dawned on Y/n. Never had Love been violent. And it seemed the dam had finally burst.
A scream escaped Y/n’s lips. She swerved into the corner, away from the counter, just as Love turned back to her. Her knife descended into the spot she once was, hatred burning in her retinas. She was out of control, pulling at the knife. It was lodged in the wood.
Another screech escaped Y/n as she dashed across the small living room. Love was still trying at the knife, nothing but fury in her expression. Y/n went to the front door and tried at it, but it was shut. Both the chain and the twisting lock was secured, and she gasped.
She peered over her shoulder as her other hand went to the chain and bolt. Her vision was blurry from the tears and panic, but she quickly recognized that Love was no longer focusing on the knife, eyes boring into her. She reached above her, where her pots and pans were hanging.
And, her eyes not leaving Y/n’s, she lifted it off the hook. It was a thick iron-steel pan, bumpy with wear. And yet, if she reached her, Y/n knew with certainty she would die. Love had enough of Y/n just as much as she had enough of her. And she was going to kill her.
As hard as it was to turn away from the raging woman, Y/n felt the chain fall free. She focused my attention on the lock, turning it until she heard a satisfying click. She heard Love’s footsteps thundering toward her, so very close behind. Love was muttering incoherently under her breath.
On instinct, Y/n ducked. Her knees buckled, and it was right that she did that. Because, just then, the pot slammed into the door above where Y/n’s head once was. Love lowered it in realization, aiming to - at the bare minimum - knock the woman out.
However, Y/n knew better. She threw her body to the side. Love accidentally released the pan, dropping it on the ground. She’d expected it to hit the woman, but, instead, it dropped onto her ankle.
Another scream escaped Y/n, but this tie, it was of pure pain. She was certain it had been twisted at the bare minimum. Tears poked from her sockets and dribbled down her cheeks, but she pulled her legs free. Love’s gaze remained glued to her ex-girlfriend, seething.
“How dare you!” Love howled, frozen in place. “I love you, Y/n! Please…”
Y/n also paused. Both of the women were panting profusely. Her belongings from her purse was scattered around the room, and she wished so desperately to grasp her phone, to run, to do literally anything. And yet, she was stuck in place, knowing that if she moved even an inch, Love would kill her.
All of the anger dissipated. Suddenly, Love crumbled to her knees. Her back almost gave out, too, but she used her arms to prop herself up. Y/n watched warily, balling her fists up. She even tried to mute her breaths, thinking that maybe Love was insane enough to forget she was even there if she didn’t move.
Love’s hair fell in her face. She broke out into sobs, one hand reaching out to her calf. She grasped it desperately. Y/n knew that Love needed help. She was batshit crazy and was a danger to those around her. And yet, it wasn’t her damn business. Y/n just needed to escape with her life and she’d be safe.
Peach had already packed up the moving truck. She’d flown down to help, unbeknownst to Love. Y/n had distracted her to the best of her abilities and Love fell for it. Perhaps it was why the umpteenth break-up came to her as a surprise. And, the moment Y/n left, she’d call a taxi to her house, and her and Peach would go on a road trip.
Peach was nice. She was a gossip girl and had her depressive moments, but Y/n never would’ve had to strength or ability to leave Love without something to fall back to.
Peach was kind. “Seriously, you don’t have to get a job. You can live with me in New York for a while until you get back on your feet.”
Peach was attentive and calm. “Love isn’t treating you right. Can’t you see that? She treats your friends poorly. Why else would your friend have left that party?”
Peach was the reason Y/n was breaking up with Love. “I know you’re in a committed relationship. But I could treat you so much better. I’m not toxic or manipulative like she is, Y/n. I’m all that you would need. Not Love.”
It made Y/n feel bad. Because, in their current standing, she tried to convince herself that it was justified to be all over Peach the moment she flew in a few days ago. In technical definitions, it was cheating. And Y/n knew that. But, to her, Love and her never should’ve been together in the first place. She’d tried far too often to break up, and yet, even now, Love was scaring her into possibly taking her back.
Y/n didn’t want to die.
“Y/n, please, if you love me, even a little bit… I will treat you perfectly.”
She opened her mouth, so very tempted to accept just to put the present torture to an end. And yet, as her phone buzzed with a text message, she shook her head. Love couldn’t see it, just like she couldn’t see that she had slowly been packing up her purse.
Y/n knew she should’ve broken up over text. And yet, the guilt of her cheating made her believe Love deserved more than being ghosted. Because it was a toxic relationship, and not just because of Love. Y/n felt terrible. How had things gone so terribly wrong?
“I… I’ll think about it, Love. But… I just need some space,” she managed.
Love looked up, eyes brimming with hope. She gasped quietly, her grip on her leg tightening in excitement. She looked so innocent and pure, as though she hadn’t just attempted to kill the woman she claimed to love. Tears still fell, but she was clearly grasping at straws for any variation of yes.
“Space? I - I can do that,” she tittered. “If only for you, Y/n… Just… please don’t leave me, okay? And I’m sorry for attacking you and scaring you… I didn’t mean it! What w - we have going on is good. Perfect. A - and I’ll work on my flaws. I’ll be the perfect woman for you.”
Y/n couldn’t make her suspicious. Love was delusional, but she wasn’t stupid. She was cunning and manipulative and observant. She was sure that Love hired someone from her rich family connections to follow her around and monitor her. But she’d never mentioned anything.
And she would never need to because she was going to escape.
“D - do you promise, Love?”
The woman nodded eagerly, grinning energetically. “Y - yes! Anything for you, Y/n. Just please, don’t leave me! We’re in love aren’t we, Y/n?”
“…Yeah, Love. We are.”
Y/n slid her leg out of Love’s grasp, going to stand. However, it was as she dreaded. Her leg gave out. The pan had did a number on her. And, as quickly as Y/n wanted to see Peach, to cry and hold the woman in her arms, to be comforted, she knew she had be calm and collected. She used the wall for support.
In concern, while apologizing profusely, Love helped her, grasping at her arm and back. She noticed how Y/n’s phone buzzed, but she couldn’t fuck everything up again. Y/n was an angel from the heavens above, giving her another chance. She couldn’t ruin it.
“A - are you sure you need to leave?” Love inquired carefully, hand lingering against the small of her back.
Y/n strained a smile wiping at her right eye. “The boss wants to give me one last night shift since tomorrow is the end of my two-week’s notice. I need to… hop on that. I’m sorry.”
Love’s eyes widened and she waved her hands dismissively. “N - no! It’s okay, it’s fine! Just… promise me that when you get home, you’ll text me where you’re moving to? I - I know you need space, but… even a city away is just too much.”
I nodded curtly. Love opened the door, the pan sliding against the carpet along with it. Love moved it further with her foot, opening the door just enough for Y/n to limp through. Love felt horrible about what happened. She knew her emotions were out of control, but to think that Y/n wanted to leave her…
She could never allow it. Not after what happened to her husband.
Only with the woman now gone, did Love notice how her phone buzzed profusely on the counter. She walked over in curiosity, and as she lifted it up, any remorse she felt turned into a burning, fiery anger.
Because, on her phone screen, was a folder of photos with Y/n’s body splayed out on the bed with a complete stranger beside her.
~~~
“Wow,” Y/n gasped in awe as the moving truck finally pulled up to a large wooden mansion in the middle of the Connecticut woods. 
It was so secluded and beautiful. And yet, when Y/n checked her phone - which was now void of any texts from her blocked ex-girlfriend -, the service was of impeccable quality. She almost felt as though she was taking advantage of her friend and soon-to-be-lover, because Peach was so dead-set on spoiling her with gifts and delectables and treats that was truly undeserved.
“This is it. It’s my parents’ summer vacation house, so we have it all to ourselves,” Peach announced proudly. “Just take in what you need for now. You’re probably, like, super tired.”
Y/n nodded. She took her small suitcase and backpack from the backseat of the moving van. She was in awe as Peach began explaining the history of the house and that it had always been in the Salinger family. She unlocked the front door quickly and held it open for Y/n.
The inside was even more grandiose as the outside. There was a large greeting hall with two opposing winding steps up to the second floor. To the right was a game room, and deeper inside was a living room with several instruments as decoration. Next to that was a hallway that led into the more private are of the household.
“Let me take your suitcase up to our room,” Peach giggled.
Y/n’s cheeks reddened in surprise. “Our room?”
“Do you have a problem with that?”
She shook her head instantly, trying to ignore the almost accusatory tone Peach held. “Not at all. It just caught me off guard.”
“It really shouldn’t. Why wouldn’t I want to sleep in the same bed as my partner?”
“I didn’t mean it like that, Peach.”
“Whatever. Come on. I want to get started on the drinks. You can decompress in the tub if you want.”
And, a few minutes later, that was exactly what Y/n was doing. Peach had left the bathroom door open, and across from that, the bedroom door was, too. It was just as richly decorated as the rest of the house, seeing as it was the master bedroom. Peach hadn’t lingered. She seemed rather stressed from the drive and Y/n knew how much alcohol helped her relax.
Y/n dropped the towel to the ground. The tub was finally full. On the bathtub shelf was an expensive glass of Chardonnay. Accompanying it was many bath bubbles, soaps, and high-quality shampoos. The warm water burned and nipped at her skin, and she released a content sigh.
She immediately sunk into the water, taking a sip from the wine glass before letting her head use the back of the tub as a pillow. Along the sides was a very fluffy rim, clearly made for what Y/n was using it for. The woman was dead tired and set on getting some shut-eye. She’d been up all day and all night for the three-day move because she was just that terrified of Love. Peach had insisted, almost irritatedly so, that Love was out of the picture and on the other side of the country.
Y/n couldn’t help but feel shivers roll up the back of her spine, though as her shut and her body became still. She was still so very on edge, as though there were eyes glued to her every move. But she was just being paranoid. That was all.
Unknowingly to her, though, she wasn’t. Hidden underneath the bed, eyes glued in anger and amazement, was Love. She’d followed Y/n. No, she arrived ahead of time thanks to her family’s private jet and a private detective who anticipated Y/n’s next move.
Love was seething. Furious. Y/n had been lying. She never loved her, even though they were perfect to each other. And yet, as she looked through hacked screenshots between the two, Love realized.
She’d never done anything wrong. Peach Salinger was the root of the problem. Love was great the way she was, and yet, Y/n fell for the woman’s keep manipulation.
Sure, it stung to think that Y/n cheated. But Love knew that without a doubt she was coerced into it, just like with everything else. Y/n never wanted to break up with Love. Peach told her to. Y/n never stopped loving Love. Peach told her to. Y/n never wanted to cheat and lie and leave her.
Peach told her to.
And Peach was going to pay.
But, as Love’s gaze was glued to the woman’s sleeping body, her heart skipped a beat. It hurt to know that Love wasn’t the only one to see her perfect body so casually, but Y/n still belonged to her and vice versa. Y/n ha been on edge the entire time, not because she fear Love, but because she knew what she was doing was wrong.
Love was convinced that Y/n missed her.
Y/n emitted a content sigh. She was so very close to being lulled into a deep sleep. But then, she heard something. It sounded like a mixture of a creak and a quiet breath. Her eyes shot open, going around the bathroom and what she could see of the bedroom. She wondered if there was free space underneath the bed.
No. She was just being paranoid.
Y/n sunk back into the water, trying once again to get some shut-eye. But then, in the distance, she heard Peach’s soft footsteps. It was easy to identify because nobody else was in the house.
Peach came into sight, having already downed half of her alcoholic beverage. A smirk stretched across her gorgeous face. They smiled at one another, and Y/n took the glass that was offered. Y/n felt abashed from how Peach’s gaze trailed over her form, cascaded by the layer bubbles.
“You look so beautiful,” Peach mused.
Y/n’s eyes, consumed with a sultry glint, eyed Peach up and down. Peach grinned even further when she noticed. Both woman took a sip of their drinks. However, Y/n was quick to set it next to the wine.  She hoisted herself out of the tub, doing so with a slight struggle because of her ankle wound. However, Peach handed her a large fluffy towel, drinking in her appearance.
Y/n wrapped it around her chest before stepping out. She was dripping with water and Peach weaved around to drain the tub slowly. Y/n wrapped her arms around Peach’s midsection, giggling as her shirt rode up her waist. Peach turned to her, and greedily they met in a passionate kiss.
From underneath the bed, Love was fuming. It was so hard to excuse Y/n’s behavior. She was totally and utterly brainwashed. It took so much effort not to shoot that damned woman who was pawing at her girlfriend in that moment, a gun clutched in her right hand. Love’s knuckles grew pale with seething hatred, her form hardly noticeable to the two women.
“I want you,” Y/n mewled, departing from the kiss for but a moment.
She was cut off by Peach’s lips once more. The woman began pulling Y/n to the bed. Giggles and moans erupted in the kiss. They grasped at each other desperately, and amidst the heat, Y/n’s towel slid right off her body.
Peach pushed her onto the mattress. Y/n gasped, falling flat on her back. Love was trembling with rage underneath, trying so very hard to control herself. It wasn’t time yet. It wasn’t time yet. She had to keep reminding herself, even if she was on her final straw.
Y/n drank in Peach’s appearance, perching herself up on her elbows. Peach was taking her sweet time, shaking herself out of her light blue denim jeans. Y/n couldn’t help but breathlessly comment,” Beautiful.”
Peach fell on top of her. Their lips connected once more. Underneath the bed, Love’s heart shattered. It was so very hard to excuse Y/n’s behavior when she made it seem like she truly didn’t love her. Love knew it was true, though. Y/n loved her. Y/n missed her. Y/n only thought she was beautiful.
“Are you sure you’re ready?” Y/n spoke gently, pressing a kiss to Love’s lips. “It’s okay if you aren’t. You’re worth the wait.”
Love swooned, so glad to be in such a loving, gentle relationship. She trusted Y/n with her life. She wanted Y/n with every fibre of her being. So, Love nodded, a lovesick smile tugging to her lips. She felt so cared for. So understood. She wanted nothing other than the woman before her.
Y/n had a few extra notches on her belt. But Love knew that what they had was real. They were endgame. Soulmates. Madly in love with one another.
“Okay. Just tell me if there’s nothing that you like. I’ll make you feel good, okay?” Y/n purred, stroking her cheek.
“You are the most perfect woman I’ve ever seen,” Love cooed, melting from the woman’s hold.
“You’re beautiful, Love. Absolutely stunning.”
Love was awoken from her trance from the sound of a quiet gasp from atop the mattress. All of the soft care she held for Y/n dissipated, and the anger she felt consumed her. She grit her teeth. She had to at now, because otherwise, that damned she-devil would trap Y/n in her grasp forever.
Y/n wasn’t going to leave Love.
Love flicked off the safety for the gun. Slowly, she slunk to the side. It would be awkward and she’d have to move fast so that they didn’t escape. Peach and left the bedroom door open. Love had tried to understand the layout of the house to the best of her abilities, but it was too large and there was too little time.
She slid free. Just then, the floorboards creaked, and both women fell silent in confusion. It was a sturdy house, and only a human being could cause such a loud sound.
Peach was sure it was nothing, wanting only to continue what they were doing. But Y/n pushed at her, perching up on her elbows. She peered off the side of the bed, eyes wide in confusion.
“Jesus, Y/n, everything is fine —“
A scream interrupted her. Y/n cried out in terror, startling Peach. Both women realized that, having slid out from underneath the bed, was Love. Her expression was wrought with anger and sorrow and loathing. She grasped at the bedsheets, attempting to stand up straight.
However, Peach clawed at her hand. Love yelped and fell back to the floor. A gunshot echoed in the air, leaving the couple paralyzed for a moment. The bullet had lodged into the wall above them. Y/n pushed Peach off of her and rolled onto the floor, grasping desperately for the phone on the bedside table. She tried so very hard to focus, but she was absolutely terrified.
Peach stumbled to her feet. She used Y/n for a shield trying to pull her toward the door. And yet, Love stumbled to her feet, red in the face and a small bruise developing on her chin from miscellaneous causes. She was panting, raising the gun toward Y/n. She was about to shoot, but then she registered the scene.
Peach was hiding behind Y/n like a coward. Peach didn’t love Y/n like she did. Peach wouldn’t protect Y/n with every fibre of her being like she would.
“Move, Y/n,” Love seethed, clenching her fist until her knuckles grew pale in comparison to the rest of her. “Move. Now.”
Y/n was sobbing and Peach was somehow more composed than the woman would ever be. She hid behind Y/n, gripping her shoulders tightly. “You’re L - Love. Listen, you’re not mentally stable —“
“How dare you!” Love shrieked. “You stole Y/n away from me. You’re the reason she broke up with me. I’m going to kill you for taking her from me! Move, Y/n, before I make you!”
Y/n, trying to compose her trembling body the best she could, tilted her head. Eyes still glued to Love’s erratic, violent form, she whispered to Peach,” Run.”
The woman needed nothing else to be said. Peach, making use of the human shield, backed up a few steps before running to the bedroom door. Love shrieked at the top of her lungs once more, attempting to shoot. She shot. Again, and again, and again. All she could see was red.
But then, as she aimed to pursue the vile she-devil, she zoned back in. She gasped, all anger dissipating into pure regret. Collapsing onto the floor, one hand gripping onto the bedside table, was Y/n. She was groaning in pain, resting her head against the rim. Blood spewed from her right arm, and as Love’s gaze trailed lower, there was also maroon dripping from her hip.
“Y/n…!” Love gasped, in total disbelief that she missed. “Oh my god - we need to call a hospital —“
Y/n’s fingers twitched as she latched onto her cell phone. She was sobbing profusely, barely conscious at all from the pain. Peach had completely abandoned her, and Y/n wasn’t sure whether to be glad she listened or sad she did it so easily. She pawed at the phone, her entire body twitching.
“Siri, call nine-one-one.”
Love’s mind blanked. She rounded the bed and realized that Y/n was scared, and in her delirium, made Love out to be the bad guy. She collapsed on her knees beside her, still holding the gun tightly. She pulled Y/n away, even though the woman cried and wished to paw at the phone.
Love reached past her. She hung up, even when the police immediately picked up, asked what was wrong. The police would track the call. Love didn’t have much time. And it was because of Peach. Love wanted to chase after her, but she had to prioritize her injured soulmate.
She cooed lovingly, swiping the gun across her hair. At the same time, she crushed the cell phone in her hand, giggling lovingly. The bits and pieces crumpled to the floor, and Y/n dreaded what was to come. Love was muttering so quietly and incoherently that Y/n didn’t even try to make sense of it. She wanted to fight herself free, but she was losing blood quickly and wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be awake.
Or even alive.
Reflecting then and there, Y/n wondered if things would be different if she’d just subject herself to Love’s obsessiveness. If she’d been a sheep who listened to every word. If she never fell out of love with Love and in love with Peach. 
If she had subjected herself to a lifetime of unhappiness in hell than paradise for but a brief moment of her quick life.
Love shook her, suddenly realizing the circumstances. Y/n’s eyes fluttered shut and Love burst into tears. “Y/n? Y/n, wake up! It’s just a little blood. I - I didn’t mean to. I never wanted to hurt you, just that bitch. Why did you have to get in the way? Wake up, Y/n, wake up!”
Her shrieks echoed in the room. Y/n was still breathing, but it was labored. The guilt came crashing down on her as she stared at the cell phone’s remains. She should’ve let Y/n called the police. Love could’ve escaped and come back for her. But, instead, Love was selfish. And Y/n might have to pay the price.
No. None of this was Love’s fault. It was Peach’s. Peach was the perpetrator, not the victim. She deserved to die, not her lover. She dropped the gun and lifted Y/n off the ground with surprising ease, the adrenaline gifting her with strength. She then used the blankets to cover up Y/n’s wounds to the best of her ability. But then, glancing over her one last time, she grabbed the gun and turned to the doorway.
She exited to the hall. She paused, trying to hear for any sounds. But it was deadly silent. Love could barely focus. She wanted Peach to die so badly, to feel the blood of her mortal enemy on her hands. Peach was to blame for everything. She was the devil reincarnate, and Love knew this with certainty.
She dashed down the staircase. The front door was untouched. Love hardly made it a mission to be stealthy and silent, instead vying to find the woman as quickly as possible. She passed a home phone on the table, only glancing at it in regret as she passed it by and entered into the living room.
The living room was empty, too. And then, she arrived at the kitchen.
Love noticed that Peach’s purse was on the floor. Love paused momentarily to click in open, realizing that, at the bare minimum, a cell phone was missing. Love couldn’t care less if Peach called the police. All she wanted was to end the woman’s life.
And Love was the one with a gun in hand.
She explored further into the storage and cleaning area. It grew darker, but Love’s eyes quickly adjusted to her surroundings. She was biting her lips so harshly. That blood dripped and there was a numbing pain against her bottom lip, but she didn’t care.
She suddenly heard a door slam. And Love knew that it couldn’t have been Y/n, because it sounded from right down the hallway. She stormed that way, loathing being the only emotion swirling in her orbs. Her entire outfit was array, and her hair was a mess. Her clothes were stained in her lover’s blood.
She then came across a door to the backyard. She threw it open, a screech escaping her lips. Of course Peach was a coward. Of course she had ran instead of helping Y/n Of course —
A gunshot rang out. Everything fell still for a moment, and Love was frozen in place. Pain was slowly developing in her back. All of a sudden, there was another one. But this time, it was aimed at her knee. Love’s legs buckled beneath her and she fell. She fell against the wall, dropping the gun to her side.
It was difficult to breathe because it was like her lungs had stopped functioning. It was hard to hear because blood was rushing through her ears. It was hard to speak because liquid bubbled and foamed, dripping from all open wounds and her mouth. She clutched at her chest, and although the wound was in her back, she could feel her heart slowing.
Love’s eyes flitted around desperately. Emerging from a corner, breaths labored and terrified, was Peach. She had a gun too. And Love realized she’d greatly underestimated the petite woman. And, in her enlightened state Love realized.
Love was as awful as Peach was.
She grit her teeth, free hand pawing at the gun that had skidded across the ground. Peach was gritting her teeth angrily, seething,” How dare you impose on us. You’re so pitiful, really, sauntering in to kill me like you own the place. Like you own her.”
She crouched down in front of the woman in amusement. A smirk grew on her lips. Love had lost feeling from the waist down. She still tried to reach for the gun, but her fingers were twitching. Love blinked, fighting the oncoming drowsiness. If she died, she was glad Y/n would be brought with her. Because, at least then, Peach wouldn’t have won. She never could have won.
“You know,” Peach hummed sadistically,” I almost feel bad for you. You honestly believed Y/n loved you. But she didn’t. We’ve been friends for a long time, you know. And even when she started telling me about you, I knew things wouldn’t work. So, I told her about how attracted I was, and in a heartbeat, she was more than happy to reciprocate. You fell in love with a cheater. You could’ve never satiated her. Not like I can.”
Love’s heart shattered. And, even with how deeply she hated Peach, she’d always known it to be true. How Y/n took day trips to inner Los Angelos to pick up a friend - Peach - from the airport. How she had receipts from the most expensive of hotels. How she… cheated.
And even then, Love wanted nothing but her. Because Love was addicted to everything about her. 
She felt the gun in her fingers. Peach was so concentrated on watching the girl bleed out. She raised the gun just enough, tilting it to her head.
And Love shot, even though hall that followed was darkness.
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( true love is finding your soulmate in your best friend )
i can’t risk losing you because i know if i lost you i lost my world i will never breath again because you are the only one in life who understand me at my worst. you are the only one who can feel every emotion of my heart and you are the one who can listen to every single thing that my heart wants to say but can’t find words to say. you are the one who can love with me perfectly even with my mood swings whether they are terrible or amazing. i know you will always bere there for me no matter what happens in our life and you are the only on in this whole messeup world who can take care of my heart and my soul. you mean the universe to me and no matter what i write for you, it’s absolutely impossible to explain what i have in my heart for you and how my soul feels connected to you every single moment of my life. you are my best friend, you are my blues buster and you are my one and only soul mate. today even while i am writing this i am falling in love with you all over again and i am falling deeper and deeper in love with you with each passing second. when i say i can’t live without you, i truly mean each word and you have to believe me. you are the air i breathe and i can’t risk losing you at any cost because if i ever lost you there will be not beats in my heart. i love you more than you will ever know... 
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suncaptor · 2 years
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You've got a stalker.
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Stop me if you've heard this one before:
A girl grows up in a strict, old-money family where any deviations from tradition are punished.
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Two choices:
be like them or be excommunicated. No love, no money.
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At some point, she makes a friend. She develops a harmless crush. That's you, Beck.
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And it's 2018, so who gives a shit if she's gay or bi or pan or just a mortal in the presence of your dangerous and exceptional pheromones?
I'll tell you who. Her family. And she knows it.
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So she takes her normal, healthy feelings and crushes them.
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Nurses them in a dark, secret place for years. Until they mutate into an obsession. A sickness.
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And now, your best friend is a stalker and a sociopath and... Oh, God. A liar.
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Supernatural (Castiel) // You, by Sera Gamble (Peach)
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petitesombres · 3 months
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crystalteacupps · 2 years
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not a day goes by that I don’t think about how peach salinger was the real queen and star of you.
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madwomansapologist · 3 months
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smile for the camera | peach salinger
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Navigation | More Best Friends Forever AU | AO3
synopsis: Peach has been sick for so long, it makes sense that now she wants to have fun. What was supposed to be just a drink or two turned into an endless night - albeit a forgettable one for your drunken brain. But Peach has more than enough photos to prove that what happened is not imagination.
warnings: yandere!peach salinger. smut. groping. nudes. fingering. oral. toxic friendship. codependency. her rare illness that reaaaaally exists. gaslighting. manipulation. jealousy. substance abuse which means this is somehow equally dub!con? cheating. as a survivor of a homoerotic toxic friendship, this is more of a confession. in this house we support women's wrong. female!reader.
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You should be preparing for next week's seminar for your work. More than that, you wanted to be preparing yourself. It's important, you worked a lot on it. You promised yourself that you would finally make sure that everything was ready and set for your big day.
And yet there you were. Driving towards Peach's location. Not the first time. Certainly not the last.
Peach just had the worst week of her life - acording to her huge history of messages, twitter account and daily Be Real updates. Another complication of her rare disease. It's something about gluten and PH. You never really understood what it's, all you need to know is that it's serious.
And you weren't there for her.
Peach is way more than just a friend. She's your family. You know her since graduation. A couple of years, but it feels like a lifetime ago. She's been there beside you for so long that you can't actually remember how life was before her.
She's always there for you. Since the first day. A kind listener to your ramblings about horrible teachers turned into someone that would hear anything you needed to say. And Peach can count on you too. What for her started as someone who actually knew how to do makeup ended with someone who would clean her tear stained face.
Peach's advices may be harsh to say the less, but she always is there to hear about your problems. It was so difficult when you were suddenly fired from your last job, but you knew you could count on her - still embarrassing to accept money from her, but what other choice did you had?
When your grandma passed, she was there for you too. When you lost your cat, when your car died out of nowhere, when you discovered in the worst way possible that blush actually does spoil.
Peach is always there for you, just as you're always there for her. But just when she was sick... you weren't there to help.
Away for the holidays, with your family, everything was perfect. That's what hurted you the most. If it was at any other week you would be worried, yet not guilty. But of course it happened right on the week you knew Peach would be alone.
Fuck her decease, and fuck her shit family.
You almost came back. You even told her. Peach tried to tell you not to, but you really would. But your mom almost killed you with her stare just from mentioning that you might need to go back to New York earlier.
Back to town, you had so much to do, but what else could've you say when Peach asked if you were free to go drinking with her? Maybe the truth. But the truth wouldn't help her, nor would make you feel good about yourself.
Just two or three drinks, you told her.
"Pookie!" Peach called you when you entered the pub. You looked around, the place with more movement than usual, and saw her waiving for you. "Right there!"
You dropped your purse on your usual place. Peach knows the owner, and he always makes sure to have her favorite place free. You kissed her cheeks, relieved to see that she looked healthy.
"I knew that dress would suit you perfectly," Peach pulled the hem of the golden piece. Her fingers stayed there longer than necessary, just feeling the warmth of your skin throught the dress.
You sat down, seeing that she had already asked for your drink. Exactly what you wanted. "Thaaanks," you pratically purred at her. "I have clothes at your home, I will give it back to you tonight."
Peach took a sip from her drink, mirroring you. She fixed her hair, as if it wasn't perfectly done. "You can stay with it. Looks better on you, anyway."
"Always trying to gift me things," you rolled your eyes, but a smirk quickly appeared on your face. 'So... who are we talking shit about tonight?"
"Boo... I've missed you so, so, so much," Peach grabbed your hand.
You held it gently, your thumb brushing against the soft skin of her palm. So warm, so free of any scars. Peach's hair smells like milk, her neck like strawberry, her breath like mint. But her hands always smelled like honey.
"I've missed you too."
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
You drank way more than three drinks.
The night started on that pub, but it didn't end there. Somehow things with Peach always ends with you both wandering throught New York. As if live was a tv show. Maybe that's something that happens to rich girls, and you're experimenting it out of proximity.
Going on different bars, laughing at anything that moves, talking about epiphanies that wouldn't survive the night. It wasn't a surprise that it would turn into a drunk karaoke night, but you'll still get surprised by the photos on your phone.
Struggling, Peach unlocked the main door of her house. You went upstairs trying not to fall, and put your heels on the floor - you don't remember taking them off.
Peach dropped her purse, not caring about where it would fall, and stretched. That was too much. Definitely too much. Peach is used to get wasted, but even she was affected.
She don't even remember how you both managed to get to her home. For a matter of fact, neither do you. After a certain point, the night was nothing but a dark blur.
Peach knew you would do everything to come back to her. You have the biggest heart ever. She wanted you to spend new years eve with her, but she undertood you wanted to be with your family. But when she saw the picture of your new boyfriend with your mom... she needed to do something to stop that.
He just... He don't deserve you. He's not on your level. You need someone that will be able to take care of you. Someone that will assure that you can work on your researches, that will give you freedom, that will support you in all ways that matter.
And that's not that guy. How will be your future with him? Worrying about mortcages and settling for the basics when you deserve the best? You deserve more. And if you can't see that, than she'll open your eyes.
Her sickness wasn't able to get you back, but now you're here she'll make sure to tomorrow morning give you a few advices. She didn't mean to make you feel guilty, but if you feeling guilty makes her have so much fun... Peach ain't able to say that she's ashamed.
"You ain't going to throw up, right?" Peach kicked her heels away, moonlight illuminating her bedroom. "I really don't want you to die while I sleep."
You just rolled your eyes, admiring yourself through the mirror. "I feel so pretty."
"That's because you are, pookie," Peach sat on her bed. Getting her earrings off, she followed your hands as you slid them across your dress. Her dress.
You licked your lips. "I feel... hot."
Peach sighed. She needs you in her life. You're half of her. You're hers. Most of the time she can ignore that. She can pretend that being your friend includes wanting your attention all the time, needing to always have an eye on you, dreaming of you.
But now with alcohol messing with her head, it was difficult to chose to look away from you. To keep on pretending that she don't want to look at you all the time. To shut up that part of her that knew you both are endgame. To not pretend that you're the forbidden fruit and she don't even need a snake to tempt her.
"That's because you do."
You looked at her hazy eyes. "You think so?"
"I know so."
It was your time to sigh. "I don't want to forget that," you played with the hem. "I would record me like this if I could."
Peach opened the second drawer of her nightstand. In the mirror, you saw the analog camera shining. “What an old thing,” you teased her.
"Then pose," she said. You turned to her, brows arched. She was already aiming it at you. "Smile for the camera."
You rolled your eyes, but smiled anyway. Even blinded by the flash you still knew she was too.
That wasn't the first time she used that camera to record you. You reorganizing your kitchen's cabinet, wandering through libraries, dining with a date. Peach can't believe you're real. She uses those photos as a proof of your existence. A proof that you're more than a fragment of her mind.
Peach thought you wouldn't want it. That you would think she was weird. But now you'd asked for it. As the flashes go on, you have fun with new poses. It was almost childish. Just two drunk woman having fun together.
You sat down on her bed, and Peach walked towards you. Looking at you through the camera, she tripped and fell on top of you. You laughed hard, your head against her pillows, as Peach tried to get up. She leaned on your shoulder, sitting on your lap, and felt your laugh echoing inside her.
Then the laughter ended, and silence consumed you both. Suddenly you both realized how late it was. How really lonely you both would've been if not by eachother company. Peach on your lap, the camera lying on the bed, your breathing unregulated.
"Is it ok if I take it off?" Your fingers were again pulling the hem of your dress. "Would you mind?"
"O-Okay," Peach whispered. "Go on."
Peach hesitated before reaching for the camera. Her hand was shaking. The first photo was just a grey blur. She breathed in and tried again. Then she saw.
You weren't looking to the camera.
You were looking at her.
The next was of your face. You body didn't even appeared. Your hair loose on her pillows, a lopsided smile breaking free, eyes glowing with the moonlight. The forbidden fruit, within reach of her touch.
"Am I pretty like this?"
Peach breathed in. "You're perfect."
"Show me," you whispered. "I want to see it."
Peach reached for your cheek, caressing it slowly. Her fingertip brushed against your lip, and you opened your mouth. Without even realizing what she was doing, Peach put her thumb inside your mouth.
The flash made you close your eyes, but she knew there was no way for you to not look perfect. The wet finger went down your body, marking your breasts with your own drool, and the flashes continued.
She could die from your expression as she pinched your nipple. Or from how easily you opened your legs for her. How you glowed, so sensitive to her fingers. How you arched your back. How you whispered her name.
Then she started recording it.
Her tongue against your clit, fingers inside of you. Her mouth on yours, hands grabbing your waist. Your drunken gaze, stupid mind, static body. Sometimes you spaced out, but Peach would bring you back to Earth.
It was slow, and torturing, and neverending. It was a fever dream, a blurred memory, a drunk imagination. It wasn't real. It couldn't be. A dream, that's the only explanation.
But her so precious photos and videos would proof otherwise.
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if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡
@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.
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stabby-apologist · 11 months
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One must always go for the aggressive brunette because apparently that's my type in fandom.
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realbeefman · 7 months
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one thing about me i love a classic pervert. a real lecherous soul. if some guy is out there stalking women and making sarcastic jokes in between his heinous and quite honestly illegal sexual deviancies then hooo boy Thats the mf taking up residence in my mind palace
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