#my fics

[stervrucht]

Eddie is hot-wiring the RV when he should have noticed. The signs were there, clear as day. If only he had paid attention then.

The air is musky and unfamiliar — it smells like other people. 

Like something stolen. 

Steve asks him where he learned how to hot-wire as he leans over Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie’s movements are hurried as he cuts the wires and strips them to expose the copper within. 

Steve is still wearing Eddie’s jean jacket over his naked torso and leans in closely. Eddie can feel the heat of his skin settle in the leather of his jacket and it seeps into his skin like ink on paper.

The RV smells familiar, like when he was younger and his dad took him along, teaching him how to steal a car. The smell of copper meeting copper. 

Nostalgia. But not in a good way.

Steve is not backing off, not even after Eddie shoots back an uncomfortable fact about his negligent father. In fact, Robin joins in on the fun. She leans over Steve, looking worried as she asks whether Eddie will be the one driving.

Eddie feels antsy and needs something to take the edge off. Maybe a smoke. But there is no time right now. The thrill of messing with someone is the next best thing.

He knows an opportunity when he sees one and turns his head.

“Harrington's got her” – Eddie leans in close, his breath hot on Steve’s cheek – “Don’t ya, big boy?”

A playful smile.

Every normal person would have pulled back by now, but Steve remains unmoved. He regards him with dark eyes and dark lashes. There is no betrayal of emotion. No betrayal of anything amiss.

He doesn’t even flinch. 

***

The second time it happens they are hanging out at Robin’s house while her parents are out of town. 

It’s a strange mix of company, consisting mostly of people from band. Eddie recognizes some of them, although he doesn’t know them by name. Music is music, regardless of whether you are in the school band or play in an actual band – although the latter is way cooler, obviously – and Eddie finds himself actually enjoying the company of some of them.

Eddie realizes he rambles too much when his mouth runs dry. He takes a final sip from his beer, crumples the can, and makes his way to the kitchen with a swagger in his step.

The kitchen is semi-crowded and Eddie spots an untouched six-pack on the kitchen counter. As he pulls out a can, he feels a weight settles next to him. Eddie turns, beer in hand, and leans against the counter. 

He realizes it is Steve.

Steve acknowledges him with a simple nod and Eddie raises his unopened beer to him in a silent toast.

He side-eyes Steve as he cracks open his beer, the hiss loud in his hands. 

Steve’s presence is like a loose thread and Eddie feels the irresistible urge to pick at it. 

To elicit a reaction.

To make Steve squirm.

He leans in closer until his shoulder is pressed against Steve's and their thighs touch.

Eddie fidgets with the can lip as he waits for the inevitable reaction of uneasiness. It usually doesn’t take long. 

Steve remains still. 

Eddie shifts his weight, pressing himself closer to Steve’s side. 

This was his little game and he always won. For more than a year now, Eddie had been the undisputed king of personal space invasion. 

There was something so empowering – so utterly bone-tingling – about the way people’s shoulders would grow tense, how they shifted to create some distance without making it seem intentional.

Eddie reveled in it.

Steve casually sips his beer, seemingly unaware of the fact that they are too fucking close. He takes his sweet time staring through the open kitchen door into the living room.

Taking in the people around him. 

Totally, utterly unaffected.

Eddie taps his foot on the floor as he feels himself grow restless. He can’t believe Steve is so oblivious — or maybe he is fine with it — but there is no way he can’t notice that the way they are standing is just…not normal.

The music seems to synchronize with his thoughts. 

He is about to lose his own game if Steve doesn’t move soon.

“Steve!” Robin bursts into the kitchen. 

Her dark-lined eyes are wide and she looks flustered as she makes her way over to Steve’s side. 

Eddie thinks she looks pretty cute, although a bit of an odd match for Steve. He had always figured someone like Steve would end up with a cheerleader or some perfectly prissy blonde. Robin is a little nerdy, her style bordering on alternative, and she is anything but prissy. Eddie would go as far as to call her a decent choice. 

But Robin just didn’t suit Steve in a way Eddie could hardly put his finger on.

Steve shifts his weight and leans more towards Robin.

Eddie feels his shoulders tense in a way that has nothing to do with the fact he is about to become the once-defeated king of personal space invasion. 

Absolutely not. 

Robin casts Eddie a quick look before making up her mind and then the floodgates open. She is whispering at such a rate, Eddie would be surprised if she was speaking English at all. He catches bits and pieces. A name. Ricky ?

He drums his fingers along his beer as he tries not to focus on the fact that, due to Steve’s turning, his ass is currently brushing against Eddie’s thigh with every small movement he makes. 

Only when Robin pulls Steve to the living room does Eddie feel like he can breathe again.

Eddie realizes Steve is a tough nut to crack.

***

Robin insists Eddie must join them for movie night. 

Somehow, Eddie has become a third to the dynamic duo — although he has a feeling he’ll never get as close to either Robin or Steve as they are to each other. 

They aren’t dating, Robin told him — insisted on it — when he had made the assumption, and somehow Eddie likes that. 

He likes the fact that Steve and Robin are just friends. It makes him feel like he fits in better, even if it will never be at that level.

That’s fine with Eddie. 

He’s not a close-friendship kinda guy anyway. He has friends for D&D, friends from the band, and now he also has friends with whom he shares a strange supernatural trauma. 

Each in its own little corner, as all things should be.

Although his relationship with Robin is far better than that with Steve, he wouldn’t say they are on bad terms. He just feels very… judged by Steve. And it may have something to do with the way he dresses — the polar opposite of Steve — all black leather, ripped jeans, and silver.

Or the fact that Dustin apparently won’t stop talking about him and Eddie is pretty sure it makes Steve jealous.

Robin and Steve work at Family Video. It’s strangely adorable, the idea that these two idiots even work together. It’s hard to believe they aren’t dating, but whatever floats their boat. Eddie wouldn’t be surprised to be invited to their platonic spring wedding.

They’re weird like that. 

Family Video comes with a nice bonus; they can take the new arrivals home once the store closes for the night. It's a neat perk of the job, Eddie supposes, although he isn’t much of a film guy. He sometimes watches them for inspiration when it comes to a new D&D campaign, but good films are far and few between when it comes to his tastes.

When Eddie walks up to the house, one of Steve’s neighbors eyes him suspiciously and Eddie resists the urge to flip her off. Instead, he balls his firsts and stomps a little more aggressively towards the door, hoping it will make the lady clutch her pearls.

Hawkins is a small town and people talk.

Steve’s fancy little neighborhood is even smaller.

“Hey, man.” Steve opens the door and steps aside to let him through.

“He’s finally here?” Eddie hears Robin call from somewhere in the house.

Steve asks if he wants a beer and leaves for what is presumably the kitchen. Eddie is left alone and looks around the living room. It is large, but only the three-seat sofa faces the TV. Besides that, there are two chairs facing the seating area and Eddie finds it an absurd amount of sitting surface for a family of three.

Eddie sits on one side of the sofa and plays with the rings on his fingers as he waits for either Robin or Steve to return. The silver skull disappears and reappears maybe five times before Robin walks in carrying a bag.  Only a moment later Steve returns with three bottles of beer. The good stuff, Eddie notes. Not whatever has to pass for beer back at the trailer.

Robin empties the bag on the floor in front of the TV and rummages through some VHS tapes, holding them up while Steve comments. 

“We’ve seen that one last week — I can’t stand to see her face again — Fine, fine, let’s go with that one.”

Eddie is fine with anything because he will most likely think it's trash anyway — especially if Steve has a say in it. 

Steve lets himself fall in the middle of the sofa while Robin works on the VHS player. Eddie feels like there is plenty of room on the other side of the sofa where Robin will take her seat and he wonders if Steve is challenging him for his title as King of Personal Space Invasion. 

Such a greedy boy, Eddie thinks. After all, Steve already had one ‘king’ title to his name and he should leave some for the rest of them.

“Have you heard of this one yet?” Steve asks as he slings his arms over the back of the couch. Eddie feels the ghost of his hand linger behind his neck. Steve is playing on the offensive here and Eddie feels himself growing flustered.

“Remind me what this abomination is called again?” 

Steve scoffs in disagreement with Eddie’s assessment. “Ferris Bueller’s day off. Right up your alley.”

“And why is that?”

“It’s about a guy playing hooky. I recall missing you from class every now and then.” Steve gives him a knowing smile.

Robin joins them on the sofa. She rests her back on the armrest with her legs against Steve’s thighs. She probably doesn’t realize that she is effectively pressing Steve further into Eddie.

“Oh, you recall huh? I didn’t know I was disappointing my fans,” Eddie tries to keep his tone light and shifts in his seat. 

Steve responds with a small chuckle but any further responses are drowned out by the sound of the movie starting.

Eddie can’t seem to make himself comfortable and he feels it has everything to do with Harrington’s startling audacity to be so physically present. Around the halfway point of the movie, Robin moves herself in a lying position with her legs over Steve’s lap. Eddie looks down on her socked feet as they move mindlessly in tune with the soundtrack.

In some ways, Ferris Bueller reminds Eddie of Steve with his floppy hair, enigmatic personality, and the way everything just works out for him. 

Perfect Ferris with his stupidly gorgeous girlfriend.

The place where his thigh touches Steve itches for him to move it, but Eddie keeps still. Eddie is cool, he can handle this. 

This. Whatever Steve is doing. 

That is until he feels Steve’s hand droop down from the backrest and settles itself in his neck. Eddie feels his breath catch in his throat, a soft gasp escapes his lips — too soft to hear. 

Unless you sat currently plastered to his side, that is. 

From the corner of his eye, Eddie can see Steve shoot him a curious glance. 

There is no way Steve doesn’t know what he is doing. 

No way.

***

Eddie squats down in front of the sci-fi wall. He does this more often now — hanging out at Family Video when Steve and Robin are working.

Whenever he’s bored or has nothing better to do, he somehow finds himself there.

He sometimes wonders if he’s imposing himself. Inserting himself into their friendship.

But both Robin and Steve greet him with smiles. 

They welcome him into their little world and it makes Eddie a little weak.

Eddie is used to feeling unwanted. An outsider. A freak. This type of friendship is new to him and he hasn’t been able to give it a proper place in his mind yet — like a fresh layer of paint still sticky to the touch.

He goes there often.

He’s there so often that people sometimes confuse him for an employee, asking him questions about where to find stuff. Eddie always points them in the wrong direction, even though by now he knows the shop by heart.

Mainstream films are always displayed at eye height. Easy to reach — it’s what most people come here for. But not Eddie. Those types of films hardly interest him, even though he will watch them with Robin and Steve during their movie nights ( Our movie nights). He does so because they like it and he likes their company.

The good stuff is always at the bottom.

He feels Steve before he hears him — the weight of his legs on Eddie’s back.

Steve starts restocking above him and Eddie’s mind is screaming. Steve has no regard for the fact that Eddie had been there first. He stocks the shelf, reaching over Eddie’s head. 

Leaning his weight into him. 

Steve’s proximity makes Eddie nervous. Makes the necks of his hair stand up on end. 

It makes him crave more. But that’s a thought he shoves away, deep.

On the small TV from the ceiling, Back to the Future is playing and Eddie can hear Marty McFly declare, “Nobody calls me a chicken!”

Eddie won’t be a chicken either.

***

It's unbearably hot, and Eddie is certain he'll perish if he stays another second in Wayne's trailer. The insulation is poor, and the metal shell traps the punishing heat of the heatwave, making it impossible for even the coolness of the night to offer any relief.

Eddie hasn’t slept well for days.

He is fanning himself with a trashy magazine when the phone rings and it’s Steve’s voice on the other end.

Steve’s parents have air conditioning and a pool and Eddie would be an idiot to refuse an invitation to a Harrington-exclusive pool party.

He arrives at Steve’s house wearing a Dio shirt over his swimming trunks. Style be damned, Eddie just wants to have the least amount of layers to shed before he can hit the pool. 

Steve’s garden is big. The pool is big. It smells like chlorine and sunscreen and the sound of loud splashing echoos against the house.

Lucas and Dustin are in some sort of competition to see who can drown who the fastest. Max and El are cheering them on, although Max seems much more invested in Dustin’s untimely death than El, who is cheering for them both from the side of the pool.

On one of the sun chairs, Mike and Will are huddled together — hair wet and knees pressed together. They are reading a comic of some sort, discussing it in hushed voices. They don’t seem the types for rough-housing. Of the boys he knew, Mike always seemed the most reserved. 

And a bit cranky, though less so now that Will and El were back in Hawkins. 

Next to them, Robin rubs sunscreen on herself. She’s pale and freckled — the type of skin that burns easily. Eddie is the same, pale but without the freckles. He should probably mooch some off her soon.

Sunlight is bad for tattoos.

“You runnin’ a daycare here, Harrington?” Eddie greets as he saunters into the backyard.

He doesn’t ring the bell, not anymore. He’s been over at Steve’s house a couple of times now and the backdoor is always unlocked.

Steve sits in a hammock, dressed in swimming trunks and reading a magazine with a car on the front. He looks up when he hears Eddie and unapologetically smiles at him. 

“Eddie!” Dustin calls out when he notices him. He tries to swim to the edge of the pool but is promptly intercepted and tackled by Lucas. While Dustin is busy drowning, Eddie loses his shirt and shoes. The moment the boy rears his curly head above water, Eddie launches himself in front of them, splashing water in their eyes.

Dustin shrieks, wiping at his eyes and Lucas releases him in the violence of Eddie’s attack.

“You little shitheads better swim fast.” Eddie grins as Lucas and Dustin scatter in the pool. 

Eddie finally feels cool after three full days of overheating. 

“I should’ve come here sooner,” Eddie says, hair dripping wet, as he sits at the other end of the hammock. Steve protests as Eddie’s feet hit his magazine.

“You’re dripping all over my read, dude!” 

Steve’s frowns at him, but in a way that he doesn’t really mean it. Eddie sees him do it to the kids as well when they’re pushing boundaries. 

Like Steve should be mad, but he actually finds it humorous.

They’re a tangle of legs and the hammock hangs low to the ground. It’s not made for two adult men, Eddie knows, but it feels more fun this way. 

Besides his precious car mag, Steve doesn’t comment on it. He settles comfortably and continues reading, even when Eddie’s water-streaked legs poke him in his side. 

Steve only swats at Eddie’s feet when he pushes the magazine closed. The silence between them is comfortable and only intercepted by the endless squabbling of the kids.

When the sun sinks behind the trees, Steve leaves the hammock to fire up the grill.

Eddie watches lazily as Steve puts an apron over his naked torso and swimming trunks. He ties the apron over the hollow of his back. Warm skin, slightly tanned, with a little mole to the left. 

“Quit drooling, dingus.” Robin settles herself in Steve’s old place.

“I wasn’t—”

“Right.” Robin smiles at him and it's so gentle that Eddie forgets to be snarky. The hammock swings slightly from Robin’s addition, but it doesn’t drip as deep as when Steve sat there.

They all eat together. All the kids, Steve, Robin, and Eddie. 

A strange feeling settles in Eddie’s heart as he looks around him. 

This must be what family is supposed to feel like.

Safe. Comfortable.

Belonging.

“You can stay the night,” Steve says once they’re back in the hammock. Dusk has settled in and Eddie can only barely make out the expression on Steve's face. 

Around him, the sound of crickets embraces the night and their skin smells like citronella to ward off mosquitos.

Nancy and Jonathan had picked up the kids. Only Robin remained, but she had since claimed the guest room.

The air is still warm, but Steve’s legs against his own are warmer. Eddie looks up at the sky where stars linger in the violet absence of the sun.

“We could stay out here.” Eddie stretches his arms behind his head. “Anything better than the trailer.”

“Hold on.” 

Steve ungracefully lifts himself from the hammock, leaving it to swing in its wake.

He returns with a light blanket and settles himself back in the hammock. Legs entangling once more before he throws it over the both of them.

Eddie pokes Steve’s cheek with his toe and unsurprisingly, Steve has no reaction to it. It seems that way no matter what Eddie does.

“You ever slept out here before?” Eddie asks while he settles his foot back at Steve’s side.

“When I was a kid,” Steve begins, “I sometimes build a little tent in the garden from cushions and the like. My parents allowed me to sleep there in the summer if it was warm enough. It’d be covered in mosquito bites the next morning, but it felt like an adventure.” Eddie hears Steve’s smile in his voice.

“Sucks to be a mosquito tonight. We smell like shit,” Eddie quips. The lemony smell of citronella is piercing and it sears itself into his memory as much as it does his skin. 

Steve nudges his leg into Eddie’s. The hairs of it tickle his skin.

“You ever slept outside?”

“Hm…once a few years back. Got in a fight with Wayne and trailers aren’t very big. I walked out and slept by a tree. The next morning when I walked back I saw a snake coiled up on the ground with a footstep in it. Made me never want to sleep outside again.” Eddie chuckles.

“Shit, a snake?”

“Not a venomous one.”

“Did you step on it?”

“I think so. Poor fucker.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t sleep out here then,” Steve says. In the darkness Eddie can see him turn his head to scan the ground, looking for snakes presumably.

Eddie follows Steve upstairs. He didn’t bring a change of clothes as he didn’t anticipate staying. 

He has never been in Steve’s room before and he takes a moment to take in.

The plaid walls with matching drapes, the framed picture of a car on the wall — It’s like Steve's parents bought his room straight from a folder and Steve’s absence from it feels loud. 

Hideously impersonal. 

Not at all like Steve.

“Robin has the guest room. That only leaves the couch, but trust me, it will break your back—” Steve says as he clears some clothes off his bed. “ — so I thought we could share. It will be a bit of a tight squeeze…” Steve looks at the bed with his hands on his hips. 

Eddie knows he should take the couch. It would be the polite thing to do. The problem is, Eddie hasn’t been polite since he was seven.

“Yeah, sure.” Eddie tries to keep his tone cool. 

This is like playing chicken on steroids. But maybe this will be the moment Eddie can finally win from the unflappable Steve.

Steve turns back to Eddie and gives him a once-over. 

Suddenly, he feels very naked, standing there in just his swimwear. Steve nods to himself, coming to a silent conclusion as he turns to his drawers.

“Here.” He hands Eddie a pair of boxers. “For sleeping.” 

Eddie takes them, grateful, but it's also kinda fucking weird to be wearing Steve’s boxers.

“I’m gonna hit the shower real quick. There’s another bathroom down the hall. You can just take one of the towels. I’ll show you.”

Hot water hits Eddie’s skin and he closes his eyes as the scent of Citronella slowly dilutes until it’s gone altogether. 

He – Eddie freaking Munson — would be sharing a bed with Steve Harrington. Wasn’t that a wild thought? Definitely not something he’d imagined when he sat at the back of the class, three years prior, staring at the back of Steve’s perfect hair.

Neither had he thought that Steve would be immune to his little proximity game. 

Nor that Eddie could grow to tolerate Steve’s — or maybe even grow to like it. 

Life is a fucking riot.

When he walks back into Steve’s room, clad in baby-blue cotton boxers, Steve is already in bed. When he hears Eddie enter, he scoots over, making space.

Eddie settles in beside him, on his back, staring at the ceiling. 

“Good night, dude,” Steve says as he leans over Eddie to turn off the light. Eddie can smell his deodorant and unfamiliar shampoo, and Steve’s skin radiates heat where it touches him.

Eddie can feel his heartbeat in his throat. It thumps so insistently, he is sure Steve must feel the bed move with it. But if he does, he doesn’t show it.

Eddie turns to his side, facing away from Steve. When they’re both on their sides, the bed feels bigger, but that doesn’t stop the scent of it from engulfing him in a tight embrace. It smells like Steve. 

Everywhere. 

Clinging to his skin. 

Sinking into his pores.

He can feel Steve shift behind him, moving his head closer to the shared pillow until he feels Steve’s nose in his neck and his arms against his back.

His breath hitches in his throat and Eddie tries not to make a sound when he feels Steve’s lips against his neck as he lets out a sleepy sigh.

Nobody calls me a chicken, he hears Marty McFly echo in his mind.

Eddie isn’t sure who is playing who right now. Part 1 of 2 | AO3

[gucciforasushirestaurant]

Jellybean

summary: you are very pregnant and harry can't go a day without quality bump time.

word count: 1067

read time: 5 min

content warning ⚠️: pregnancy, fluffy fluff fluff

a/n: my brain is such an odd place. i saw this tik tok and my brain instantly came up with this haha because...harold absolutely would lol. Enjoy!

You’d been rolling around on your California king mattress for the better half of two hours now. You’ve rolled from your side to Harry’s rearranging the expensive pregnancy pillow that Harry had gotten you the day you found out you were pregnant, and still nothing seemed to get you comfortable. 

Part of it was your bundle of joy, nestled warmly in your womb having a block party for one. But mainly you were just frustrated, and on top of that sleep deprived and, so heavily pregnant. You were about ready to pop any second, and yet your lovely, attentive husband was on the other side of the world, working. And worse of all, you hadn’t spoken to him all day, besides your daily “Good Morning, Lovie” text.  In all your time together with Harry,  it never bothered you. The traveling, or the fact that you’d go all day without hearing from him. He was a busy man, and a hard worker, it’s part of the reason you fell so hard for him, and married him. 

But with the pregnancy hormones, and the fact that the princess treatment that you’d become accustomed to getting from your doting husband over the last few months has been missing in his absence the last few days, it was taking a bit of a toll on you. 

So when your phone buzzed later that night with a text from Harry you couldn’t help the happy and frustrated tears that welled up in your eyes. And when you saw that adorable contact photo of him pop up on your screen with an incoming call, well you started bawling. You answer the phone and instantly your bad mood dissipates when you hear the smooth honey sound of Harry’s drowsy bedtime voice. 

“Hey, Lovie.” Harry coos into the phone.

“Hey, you” you sigh, trying your best to put on a smile, but you’re not very convincing. It only makes Harry crack a smile. He hates how uncomfortable you’ve been the last months, but he can practically hear your adorable pout through the phone and it makes his heart go all fuzzy. 

“How long have you been trying to sleep?”

“Hours!” you whine, slightly dramatic, “They really are your kid, you know? Just bouncing off the walls, when all I want to do is sleep.” You grumble and can hear him chuckle over the phone. “Harry, I’m serious! I feel like I haven't slept in days. If they’re not tap dancing on my bladder, they’re doing somersaults off my ribs.”  

“I’m sorry, baby. I don’t mean to laugh. I’m sorry you're uncomfortable, and I hate not being there to help. Do you have the pillow? Is it helping any?” 

“Yeah, but everytime I think I’m comfortable, Jellybean has other plans.” you chuckle slightly, taking a breath and looking down at your bump, bottom lip going wobbly, “I just want him here, already.” You sigh, whipping a tear that slipped despite your best efforts. “And you, too. I missed you today.” 

Hearing your voice crack with sadness, it was like something grabbed at his heart and twisted it. He hated, despised, being away from you. Especially now that you were so close to welcoming your first baby. But it was ‘unavoidable’ according to everyone he spoke to while he tried to keep the meetings to Zoom. So there he was, halfway across the world while his beautiful, very pregnant, and sleep deprived wife cried to him over the phone. He felt like the world's worst husband, and he hated it. 

But he had to remind himself that you and your baby on the way were what he was doing all the work for in the first place. And in nearly 24 hours, he’ll be right back in your arms, cradling your bump and kissing your plump cheeks. 

“Aww, baby I missed you too. But just think, this time tomorrow I’ll be right there with you. And we’ll be holding our Jellybean in just a few more weeks, yeah?” he lulled. 

“I know…but you know how impatient I am.” you laugh, and he does too. 

“Oh, trust me I do.” he chuckles, remembering all the subtle ‘hints’ you dropped in the years leading up to your engagement. He takes a moment and remembers that there is one person he hasn’t spoken to since he went out of town, “Do me a favor, Lovie?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Put me on speaker, and put me next to your belly. I wanna talk to Jellybean. Set ‘em straight so mama can get some rest.” you laugh loudly into the phone and he smiles, “I’m serious, let me speak to ‘em. They listen to me.” You can’t help but smile, because it’s very true. Your bundle of joy hasn’t even arrived yet, and it seemed the two had already formed a little alliance between them. 

“Alright,” you sigh before hitting the speaker button, “there, you're on speaker.” 

“Okay put me on your belly.” 

“Done.” you chuckle, rolling your eyes. 

“Hey, Jellybean,” Harry coos, and your heart warms at the sound. Your eyes begin to water when you feel your baby, seemingly to respond to his voice. “Your mama told me you're giving her a hard time. I thought we talked about this before I left, hm? It’s late and you both need to sleep. Okay?” Harry stops talking for a second, as if he can hear the little kicks to the speaker. “I know, you want out, but you’ve got a few more weeks. We are as excited as you are. But your mama is too pretty and needs her beauty rest, so let her sleep, and you rest too, okay bubs?” He hears you laugh, and he feels better knowing that even though you're so uncomfortable he’s able to put a smile on your face. “Now hand the phone back to your mother.” 

“Thank you for that,” you chuckle, “They’ve  actually calmed down a bit. May actually get a few hours in.” 

“That’s good. Told you, they listen to me.” 

“Yeah, something tells me that that’s going to be an issue when they’re here.” you laugh running a hand over your bump. “Just gonna be you two ganging up on me.” 

“Maybe.” he chuckles, “Well, I’ll let you sleep while you can, alright?” 

“Okay. I’ll try. I love you.” you yawn, already feeling sleep creep up on you. 

“Love you too baby. Goodnight.” 

✨masterlist✨ ∣ ✨yap & request box✨

[monsterrae1]

in the middle of the night, in my dreams (you should see the things we do)

3k | Explicit | Buddie | Read on AO3

For @loveyouanyway in exchange of proof of donation for Sudan Relief, you're awesome king <33

Summary:

Buck’s lips were a lot softer than what he was expecting. Not that Eddie had been expecting to actually find out exactly how soft his best friend’s lips were, it just sort of happened. Eddie was trying to think hard about how they had even gotten here, but it was all a little fuzzy. One moment they were in the living room playing video games, and the next, Eddie was being pressed into the bed by Buck’s body and his lips were pressed against Eddie’s. Eddie tried really hard to remember how they ended up there, but soon enough Buck was pressing his hips into Eddie’s, their hard cocks rubbing together, and all thoughts about trying to figure out what had happened went flying out of his head. He just wanted Buck, he didn’t care how, he just wanted him. * Or, Eddie starts having sex dreams about Buck and it changes everything between them.

[calaisreno]

Map of the World

1145 Words / CW: Nudity, sex

The day has not yet dawned, but everything in the room has barely started to take shape, gauzy and grey. I can’t see the clock. Doesn’t matter; too early for the hour to have a number. 

I remember sleepless nights when dawn was near, some vigil ending but  the day not yet begun. I remember nights without dreams, my sleep a solid and unbroken place between days. 

I open my eyes, your warm presence reminding me that this is real, this is my life. 

You’re still asleep, but you won’t be for long. People who know you would predict you’re a restless sleeper, tearing the sheets from their moorings, stealing the blankets. You’re not. When you sleep, it’s quiet, deliberate, deep. A trip into a Night Palace, perhaps. 

You don’t move when I touch you, still deep enough that you don’t register my hands. I adore your hands. You’ve deduced this, I know. Long, thin fingers, sensitive, artistic. Violinist’s hands. 

But there’s a place on your body where my hands always go, my favourite part of you. I’ve never said, but since the first time, I think you’ve known. Touch doesn’t lie. 

My hand travels lightly over the swell of your arse, finding the soft bit of skin between that and your leg. You’re lying on your side, top leg bent, the bottom one straight, and that’s where I find it, the soft crevasse between the gluteus maximus and the biceps femoris. 

I could live in that tender spot. 

You sigh now and begin turning into me, settling your head against my shoulder. I won’t touch your neck yet because you’ll wake as soon as I do, and I haven’t finished my exploration.

Soon I’ll roam the canvas of your back, feel the smooth, raised marks that are reminders of your two years away. These are the sigils that spelled the end of that journey and brought you back to me. They’ve faded to silvery-pink, and to me they are beautiful, a sacrifice you made out of love. You don’t walk around in a sheet these days, showing them off, but I know what they mean.

I find the scar on your chest, the one that nearly took you away from me again. It’s deceptively small, just a white pockmark now, barely able to be seen unless you’re looking for it. I don’t need a map to find it; my finger goes right to it. I touch it lightly, with reverence, knowing that you would have given your life for me to be happy. 

I wouldn’t have been; we both know that now.

Mapping each ridge of your ribcage, I feel your heart beating beneath.

Clothed, you don’t appear muscular, but your strength is here, in these long, lean limbs and the planes of your abdomen. The first time you hugged me, you were at your lowest peak, physically. You’d been shot, barely recovered, and then plunged yourself into drugs, wearing yourself so thin that it shocked me. I was angry, confused, distraught. 

When your arms went around me in comfort, I felt your strength. You were not frail. I did not doubt that you’d been using yourself up, abusing your transport in ways I hated, but you still felt solid, strong enough to catch me before I fell into despair. The weeks before—the drugs and the madness—were not a deception, but you’d been careful to hold back enough strength for when you would need it. Either I would save you, or you would save me. 

I think we saved each other.

You sigh, a barely-felt susurration against my neck. Avoiding your neck, I let my fingers travel to your nape, into the curls there. Your hair will look like a bird’s nest when you get out of bed, and that will be partly my fault. I love seeing you sleep-tousled, disheveled. For everyone else, you’re carefully put together; in disarray, you’re mine alone. 

Your hand rests on my shoulder, over my scar. An ugly thing, I’ve always felt, and difficult to hide because of its size. My country branded me a hero and sent me home. I didn’t feel like a hero; I hated my scar, the way my hand shook, and the perplexing limp that defied explanation. 

That day in the lab, I was invalid, a broken man trying to return to some sort of life. You were able to read my entire history in one look, and I felt embarrassed.

It was only years later, when we lay in bed and you traced my scar with gentle fingers, that you told me what it meant to you: Without this scar, you would not be mine. We would never have met. You might have died in another battle and never returned. Or you would have returned a different person, with more possibilities. That you returned as you did, a man who needed a flatmate, brought us together that day. The rest is history, as they say. 

Your eyes are open now, blinking in the pale early light. We are shadows here, a land before the dawn. Your hand reaches below, finding my eager cock. I touch all the hidden places, the soft skin of your bollocks, the swell of your muscles as you tense. You’re wide awake now, quietly watching my reactions. Patient now, soon you’ll be pleading, insistent. 

I kiss the smile that is curving your lips and, begin my journey below your jawline, down your neck. My hands are around you now, exploring. 

There are no words yet, none needed. We move together, the rustle of the sheets the only sound. Our bodies know one another. We read the signs: breath quickening, pheromones unloosed, flesh growing erect. 

We move. You once taught me to dance, telling me that it was all about reading your partner. This dance, we learned together, whispering under the sheets: Is this all right? Do you want—? Oh, God, yes! More! 

It’s early, and we’re both too impatient to lengthen this intimacy. I take us together in my hand, slick from sweat and semen, and you stretch out, gloriously pressing into the touch. Seeing you like this always burns me to the ground, lays waste my body. You shudder, and I no longer hold back. 

The sun rises, the room is lit gold. 

The sheets are already cooling as we lie heavy in our sweaty embrace. There will be more, when we’re awake, and it will be different, another journey across well-loved terrain. 

And now good-morrow to our waking souls, Which watch not one another out of fear; For love, all love of other sights controls, And makes one little room an everywhere. Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone, Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown, Let us possess one world, each hath one, and is one. — John Donne, The Good Morrow

---

And here we are, the final day of May Prompts 2024! Thank you all for reading and for leaving wonderful comments. It's been so much fun. 💕

My final story was going to be a sequel to His Favourite Jumper but that story outgrew the category of "ficlet" and will be posted separately tomorrow on AO3. There will be socks! And Sherlock returns!

My entire collection of May ficlets can be found here: Trifles 3.

The May Prompts 2024 Collection (all authors who have submitted stories) can be found on AO3 here.

[the-anonmaton]

The Burden of Battle

Relationships : Sevika x Reader Characters : Sevika, Original Female Character Tags : Fluff, Massage, Light Angst, Domestic, Fluff and Angst, Scars Words : 1,477 Summary:

What about caring for a tired Sevika?

**********

It was an easy night after a hectic week. Both of you relieved to return to the place you called home for a much needed rest. You ate your food discussing the situation in Zaun, both hopeful and in good spirits about how things were developing. But your good work didn't come without a toll and you sure as hell knew the burden that came with her position. You could see it in her exhausted eyes and the scars marring her body. But you also knew the importance of the cause and her unwavering loyalty. She wouldn't let some minor inconveniences like sleep or life threatening injuries to stop her. It was a blessing and a curse, and you both loved and hated her for it.

After you finished eating she poured herself a hearty serving of whiskey and went outside to smoke her cigar, since you were adamant about you being the one cleaning up after your meal and ushering her out of the kitchen. If it was up to you she would never have to do any more work than what was absolutely necessary. She is doing more than enough as it is. You can take on a measly table and a few dirty plates.

A few minutes later you came in the bedroom only to find her lying face down on the bed, eyes closed, metal arm hanging over the side of the bed, clothes and boots still on. You smiled softly looking at her, although you couldn't help the pensive look that overtook your face. But you managed to school your features as you approached her. You fell to your knees bringing your face at her level and started to thread your fingers through her hair. She hummed, half-opened her eyes, saw your soft smile and smiled back before closing her eyes again and letting out another hum, enjoying your petting.

"How about a bath, love?"

"I'm tired."

"I know, but I promise you'll feel better."

No response. In the silence you could only hear her breathing.

You slipped your hand from her hair to let it rest between her shoulder blades and purposely pushed down with your whole palm, following with your thumb making circling motions applying slightly more pressure at the spot. She hummed again.

"Come on, baby. And after, I'll help you relax. You know you'll like it."

You had her. By now you knew she would always relent to the promise of a massage. She often joked that you held too much power over her. Too bad your power couldn't do anything about the weight of the job she was carrying on her shoulders. Maybe you could help lighten it, just for a while.

"Hmm… okay."

Smiling to yourself after your success, you gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, rose from your kneeling position on the floor and went to prepare the bath for her. You only heard a grunt of protest to the sudden absence of your hand massaging her back while making your way to the bathroom.

**********

Getting her out of her clothes wasn't the easiest of tasks, but you couldn't complain as now you were both sitting in the warm water, enjoying each other's company and feeling the struggles of the week washing away. You are propped up on one side of the bathtub while she is laying in front of you with her metal arm hanging over the side, her other arm caressing your knee below the water and her head resting on your shoulder with her forehead touching the side of your chin. Your one hand is resting on her stomach, lightly stoking her with your fingers while your other hand has returned to its previous task of threading her hair, simultaneously getting it wet so you can clean it properly. Seeing her relaxed face and hearing her occasional humming you couldn't help but hold her tighter and kiss her temple.

"Feeling better?"

"Hmm… Love you, baby."

"I love you, too."

You both stayed in the tub until you started to feel the water getting colder and reluctantly stepped out to towel yourselves before getting dressed. You put on a pair of panties and one of Sevika's old t-shirts which was a lot baggier over your relatively smaller frame, while she put on only her boxers knowing what was to come.

You were looking yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair in a ponytail when you turned to see her sitting on the edge of the bathtub trying to dry her hair with the towel. She was favoring her right side, the purple bruise from a few days ago was almost gone, but not the ache underneath, if her struggling to hold her arm up was any indication. You slowly walked towards her, placed yourself between her legs and put your hands on top of hers.

"Let me."

She blinked up at you, looked into your eyes, closed hers and simply nodded, dropping her hands, relinquishing control and letting you manhandle her head in your attempt to get all the wet spots.

After you deemed your work adequate, you threw the towel on the floor and returned your hands to her hair, slowly caressing it and pushing it back with your fingers to tidy it up a bit. You then let your hands glide to each side of her face, your fingers curled around the back of her neck and your thumbs caressed her cheeks. She hummed again.

You were transfixed by her face, eyes still closed, her head hanging back and you could feel metal and warm fingers lightly touching the sides of your thighs. Mesmerized, you leaned forward while holding her face to place a gentle kiss on her mouth and pulled away only to be met by tired eyes looking back at you, reminding you of your promise.

"Come on, baby."

You pulled away, extended your hand for her to take and after she followed your command you lead her to the bedroom.

**********

She lay on the bed while you walked around it to get to the nightstand where you had the oil. After you found it, you turned around and observed her for a moment. Face down on the bed, both hands above her head, one over the other. You wouldn't be surprised if you heard a snore coming from her. You thought of how far you've come since the first time you met each other. Looking back, not even in your wildest dreams would she be this relaxed and vulnerable with you. It took some time, but here you are. Apparently, your little trip down memory lane didn't go unnoticed.

"Hey, you hearing me?"

You snapped back and blinked.

"Hm? Sorry, what?"

"You okay?"

You managed to focus your vision. Sevika was propped up on her elbows, head turned to you with a worried look on her face.

"Yeah, just got distracted. Ready?"

"You sure?"

"Yeah, come on, lie back down."

"You would tell me though, right?"

"Of course, love. Don't worry, I'll tell you later."

"Okay."

Reluctantly she lay back down in her previous position and a relief washed over you. You would tell her, but now was not the time. You had other plans for the night and possibly making her uncomfortable by bringing up her behavior was not a part of it.

**********

Normally, you would just straddle her ass and go on to massaging her back, but tonight you felt the need to show more of your love. Maybe seeing her run herself to the ground all week and remembering the tired look she gave you at the bathroom a few moments ago fueled that desire. So you walked to the foot of the bed, purred some oil on your palm, warmed it up between your hands, knelt down at the end of the mattress and started massaging her left calf.

"Hm, that's different."

"Just trying something, you just relax."

"I'm not complaining."

You slid you hands up her calf, putting pressure on the muscles with your thumbs. When you reached the back of her knee you hugged it with your hands and slid them back down, now putting pressure to the front of her leg with your other fingers. You repeated the motion a few times, all the while mindful of not accidentally pulling her fuzzy leg hair, the oil helping your movements. Her hums and occasional relieved grunts making you feel pretty proud of yourself.

"Is the pressure okay?"

"Hmm, feels good, baby."

"Tell me if you need anything."

You made your way to her right calf, your hands following the same pattern, then you moved up the bed and straddled it to give you better balance so you can tend to her right thigh and then you moved over to straddle her left calf to finish with her left thigh.

It was impossible not to let your eyes roam over all the spots you were touching. You were once more cataloging her every wound, new and old. For some you were there, you even took care of them, while for others you relied on her to tell you the stories. You wanted to lean and kiss each and every one of them, cursing once more whoever inflicted them upon her, if they were still alive considering they were trying to mess with your woman, but you decided to focus on the task at hand for the moment.

You also felt your heart skipping a beat whenever you came across a love bite on her thighs. You sure as hell had your fair share on your body but she didn't often let you have your way with her, so you couldn't help but let your fingers linger a moment longer on them, savoring them and trying to burn them in your memory.

**********

After paying your due diligence on her legs you moved up over her body and situated yourself on her ass so you can attend to her back. You put some more oil on your palms, warmed it again and got to work.

You began your massage by stroking her back, not putting any pressure, hands just lightly touching and caressing her, spreading the oil from her lower back, to her spine, upper back and shoulders and coming back down to her lower back by a path from her sides, feeling her frame expand with each slow breath she took. You kept at it for a while, since her contented hums seemed like a good sign that she was enjoying herself and you didn't want to stop providing.

It was a good opportunity for you to stare at her strong back, to feel the muscles below your hands, to touch a few more constellations of scars. Their number was greater compared to the ones on her legs, and some of them clearly looked like they hadn't healed properly, the scar tissue prominent under your fingers. That was the burden of her cause and you knew these injuries wouldn't be the last. You felt the pain in your heart and your eyes welling up, and this time you couldn't hold back, so you leaned and kissed every scar your position allowed.

A part of you was waiting for her to scold you and get you back on track with your massage, but it turned out that whatever you were doing had rendered her jelly underneath you. She only hummed and, to your surprise, she pulled her warm hand that was tucked under the pillow above her head and brought it to rest parallel to her body so she can reach your leg and caress it.

With one last feathery kiss on the back of her neck, you pulled back and trailed your hands over their previous path on her back, finally adding the much needed pressure her knotted muscles were begging for. Her poor condition was apparent from her grunts, sharp inhales, holding breaths and heavy exhales every time you increased the pressure or went over a stubborn spot on her back. You could only apologize with a frown on your face, which luckily she couldn't see, but could probably hear it in your voice.

"I'm sorry, baby. I should do this more often. These knots would be more manageable."

"It's fine."

Of course she wouldn't admit anything. It's fine though, it's the common secret between you two. She won't admit her pain, even when you see her bloody and injured and hear her hurting. But she's doing better about it, so you can't really blame her. You know by now to let her take her time and push when necessary.

**********

After your final stroke, you leaned forward, placed another kiss on her right shoulder blade, crossed your hands over it, rested your head above them and lay down on her back, acting like a blanket over her body. From your position you could see her profile, the side of her relaxed face inches away from yours. Her eyes were still closed, the side of her mouth pulled up a tiny bit forming the beginnings of a smile, breathing evenly through her nose. With one finger you traced a path from the middle of her forehead to her chin, going over her crooked nose, obviously broken many times in her past, and over her lips, dragging the bottom one down with light pressure. You moved to place another kiss on her right cheek.

"I thought you'd fall asleep halfway through it. Feels like I lost a bet"

She chuckled and her smile widened, teeth almost showing. Her speech was slurred as she spoke to you, clearly on her way to lose consciousness.

"I tried not to. Felt really good to miss it."

"Well, we can do it anytime you want."

"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, baby. It was nice."

Your heart fluttered at her praise. With a sharp inhale and a smile you gave one last kiss on her shoulder.

"Sleep now, love."

"Hmm…"

You slid to her right, so you can face her and put one arm over her waist and a leg over her thigh, so you wouldn't crush her any further, not that it was a possibility, but you wanted her to enjoy a good night's sleep without a weight on her back preventing her breathing.

"I love you." You whispered to her, letting your breath tickle her lips.

She half opened her eyes to regard you with serious expression, and you felt a warm hand tucking it self under your t-shirt and resting on your hip. She sighed with a smile and closed her eyes.

"I love you, too."

It wasn't long before she passed out. You tried to stay awake for a little longer, looking at her, committing her to memory, enjoying the silence, before the next hectic week comes, threatening once more the life you made with her.

**********

taglist : @opropheticsoul

Thanks for reading! :)

[witchywcmans]

AGAINST THE LAW. | KEN RYUGUJI

synopsis ━━ after one too many trips to the auto repair shop with your old car, you realize you can focus on your work tasks so much better in the waiting room. but when the head mechanic notices you've been loitering, you recognize him instantly: ken ryuguji. there’s zero chance you’re getting out of this one. (older!draken x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ missionary position on a motorcycle (hey, this is fiction), cunnilingus + fingering, praise, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pet names (i.e. cherry), mentions loss of virginity in the past, mutual pining, au as helllll, draken is in his late 20s and a mechanic. nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).

word count ━━ 5.2k

song inspiration ━━ one for the road, arctic monkeys / one of the girls, the weeknd / fallen star, the neighbourhood

author's note ━━ ok off the bat, I just wanna say this fic was completely inspired by this movie called wait with me. my friends and I like to watch passionflix movies for the laughs, but this one wasn't. well horrible. if you watch it, don't expect oscar-worthy performances, but it was fun and stupid and yeah, it made me think about what if part of this concept was applied to draken when he was older, workin as a mechanic. idk. I'm not caught up on the manga whatsoever so take this as a major au lol

Your car was a piece of shit, but that wasn’t the only reason you ended up sitting in the waiting room at the mechanic’s more than usual. A police officer would call it loitering. You, on the other hand, called it a safe space. For the past couple of weeks, your car had been in and out of the shop due to a faulty ignition sensor that your mechanic couldn’t nail down until your car broke down on the side of the highway. For the third time. Needless to say, it had been a stressful past month. The car issues had been one thing, but then there was all the pressure at work. And for some reason, you began to find comfort in working at the mechanic’s waiting room.

Your work as a journalist was very important to you. A perfectionist at heart, you needed to be in the right zone, the right state of mind, to write. Unfortunately, you weren’t someone who could sit at your desk at home for hours, typing away at the speed of light, and you definitely couldn’t focus at a coffee shop. You tried a plethora of other places. The local park: your laptop died. The library: teenagers still whispered too loud even in the quietest of places. The McDonald's parking lot: you got distracted by your hunger. Nowhere was right … until you were forced to work from your mechanic’s waiting room while he worked on your car. 

Even when your mechanic figured out the issue, you couldn’t help but sneak in through the entrance late mornings and work on your articles. The waiting room was just so … quiet, even more quiet than a library. There was hardly anyone in there besides the retired folk who could wait all day for their car to be fixed. You had a coffee machine at your disposable – not good coffee, but good enough – and a selection of snacks from the vending machine. It was pure bliss. You liked to hole yourself up in the corner, picking out different outfits that would conceal your face enough, and type away until the sun began to set. No one said a word to you. No one batted an eye.

So, as you can see, it was a surprise to you when someone eventually approached you two months into your loitering scheme.

It was just about closing time and you were shoving your laptop in your backpack after sending off another draft to your editor. A pair of feet appeared in front of your chair, and when you looked up at the young mechanic chewing on the end of a toothpick, you knew you were fucked. 

“Toyota,” he said without missing a beat, knowing your car from the top of his head, “ignition sensor, right?”

You paused, sliding on your backpack. Could you make a break for it? “Um … correct.”

“That was fixed weeks ago,” he said, slapping a dirty rag on his shoulder, car keys dangling from the other hand. 

Your mouth went completely dry. How the fuck could you explain this without coming off as a total weirdo? Your hands gripped the straps of your backpack for dear life. This was so embarrassing.

Before you could reply, the young mechanic gestured to the back door with his chin. “Follow me,” he said. “Boss wants to talk to ‘ya.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Still fiddling with your backpack straps, you knew there was no choice but to follow this guy. He led you through the back door and into the main workshop area of the shop. There were some cars left on a few lifts, ready to be inspected tomorrow, and the shelves packed with parts seemed to be in disarray. Besides that, there was no one in here but you, the young mechanic, and whoever this “boss” was still working in the back of the shop. You had never met the owner of the shop before; you typically worked with your mechanic and no one else.

You took down the hood that you’d been wearing today. There was no use in hiding your face now.

“Here she is, boss,” the man beside you said, still twirling those keys. “Can I go home now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the boss replied, hidden behind the huge motorcycle he was working on. “Good work today.”

The younger man left, the bell above the office door jingling, and now it was just two: you and this so-called boss you’d never met. You stood there in silence, hands fidgeting with anxiety, as you waited for the boss to say something. From behind the motorcycle, all you could see was a flash of blonde hair and smoke puffing out into the dingy air. It smelled like motor oil and cigarettes back here.

You lifted your foot – maybe it was time to try and sprint out – but then a deep voice entered the work space.

“You know that loitering is against the law, right?”

That voice … it was familiar, but you couldn’t put a pin on it. And then, the boss was standing up, and you saw the tuft of blonde hair slicked back, the shaved sides on his head. That infamous dragon tattoo still on his left temple. The little hoop on his left ear was accompanied by a few other small piercings. He was still the same height – over six feet – but had grown some muscle. His hands were calloused from all those years of fighting, and now, from heavy labor. And those eyes … they were still as stormy and dark as the first day you saw him in school.

This wasn’t just embarrassing. This was mortifying.

“C’mon, Cherry,” Draken said, instantly recognizing you and your old nickname, “you know you can’t loiter in my shop.”

Cherry. You hadn’t been called that since … well, since high school. Your classmates hadn’t started calling you that because of a specific physical trait. To your face, you were told the nickname was for your quick skill of tying a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue. You had been the best, after all. But unbeknownst to you, the nickname came from when Mikey Sano, the infamous former leader of the Tokyo Manji Gang, popped your cherry.

You hadn’t even liked Mikey at the time. You were just sweet sixteen, and he was a year older, and you had assumed it would be better for your first to be someone with experience. Unfortunately, Mikey Sano had no experience. The sex had been awkward and terrible, as most first times between teenagers are, but at least you could say that you lost your virginity to the leader of Toman. Your eyes had always been on someone else, though. Someone who you had been too nervous to talk to, who you had only shared just a few interactions with. You never had a crush on Mikey as a teenager; you had always liked –

“Draken,” you said finally, shock lining your voice. Your eyes formed into wide saucers. It had been so long, and he was here. This whole time. Right under your nose. How surprised did you look right now?

He chuckled, wiping his hands off on a rag. The cigarette dangling from his lips was plucked out, and he stabbed it into an ashtray. “Don’t look so surprised.”

Oh, so you did look that shocked to see him.

He threw the tool he’d been using on a bench and stepped around the bike. “I really don’t go by Draken anymore,” he continued, sitting down on the rusted motorcycle, stretching his legs out. “Just call me, Ken.”

You were speechless. Were you breathing right now? You had to admit … you still found him to be handsome. He always had been. God, you were obsessed with him in high school, but always hid your crush in the shadows. Not even your friends knew about it, but you’d made it obvious, even if you didn’t know it. And now … he’d gotten better with age. The lines underneath his eyes told a story, as well as the scars etched into his veiny forearms. He could have more that you couldn’t see underneath the tattoos on his arms. Your mouth was so dry from staring at him that you had to lick the corners of your lips.

“Ken,” you said in a single breath, lacing your hands together in front of your body. You hadn’t moved from your spot, even when he was looking at you so casually. “I’m so sorry for loitering. Please, don’t call the cops on me. Or something. I have a reason –”

“Me? Call the police?” He laughed again, and it was just like how you remembered. “Do you know me at all, Cherry?”

Once you found the courage to breathe again, you stepped forward. Then another. And another. “I guess I don’t,” you shrugged, still playing with your hands. “I guess I just knew of you.”

“And I knew of you, all those years ago.” He smiled like you two were in on a secret. The rag that had been in his hands was tossed onto his left shoulder. He was wearing a pair of grey coveralls stained with oil, but the top half was unzipped and tied around his waist, leaving him in just a white tank top on his torso, which hugged his muscles so nicely. “So, tell me then. What’s the reason for your loitering?”

This had to be the most words shared between you two than all those years at school together. You thought about pinching yourself, just to check if this was all part of an elaborate dream. Or nightmare, depending on how it ended.

“Um …” You rubbed the back of your neck, blushing slightly. “Well, you see … the waiting room at your shop is very … quiet.”

His brow raised. “So I’ve been told.” He stared you down. “C’mon, out with it.”

“You’re going to make fun of me.”

“I will not.”

“Yes, you will.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because we went to school together!”

“Oh, you know that means noth –”

“I’m a journalist and I write my articles better in your waiting room,” you finally answered, crossing your arms over your chest. “There. I said it.”

Draken couldn’t stop himself from laughing. He knew he promised, but the giggles bubbled up inside him, forcing themselves to emerge. You looked at him incredulously, blinking too fast. All you wanted right now was to crawl into a hole and be left alone. You had to find a new mechanic after this.

“You said you wouldn’t make fun of me,” you sighed.

He waved his hand as his laughter died down. “I’m not. I promise.” Finally, his shoulders sagged again and he stood up. “I think it’s really cool that you … like my waiting room so much.”

You found your lips pulling into a smile at the same time as him. The tension broke and you felt your dimples crease. “I also like all the little snacks in the machine.”

“And the coffee?” He added.

You shrugged. “Could use some work.”

Draken laughed again, and just the sound of it made butterflies form in your stomach. You never had such a reaction to someone laughing before. What was wrong with you?

He stuck his hands in the front pockets of his coveralls. “It’s … really nice to see you again, Cherry.”

You mimicked his actions, instead sliding your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. “You too, Ken.”

“I won’t bust you for loitering, by the way. Even if it is against the law,” he chuckled under his breath, whipping the rag off his shoulder once again. “Come over here. Let me show you what I’m working on.”

His tone was so casual, as if years hadn’t passed between you two, as if this wasn’t the most you talked in years. You set your backpack down and approached him in front of the bike. Your fingers ran over the slope of the seat, all new despite the rusty exterior of the motorcycle. “That’s new leather,” he informed you. “Feel free to test it out. I need someone else’s butt on this thing so I know if I chose a good material.”

You giggled, all light and flirty. You simply couldn’t help it, especially when he looked at you with those dark eyes, the corners creasing when he smiled. Without missing a beat, you sat down on the side of the bike, like he had minutes ago, and looked up at him. He was tall, but from this seat, he was even taller. 

He pointed to the wheel of the bike, and then the headlight. “I just started replacing the …” His voice drowned out as you simply focused on his lips. His mouth quirked as he explained what he fixed so far on the bike. You watched his finger dance around the bike, taking in the rough exterior of his hands up close. They were so much bigger now, amongst other things –

“So how’s that seat?”

You blinked, bringing yourself out of your horny stupor. “Oh, um – comfy. Very comfy.” You cleared your throat. “So … is this for a customer?”

“It’s mine. This is a personal project,” he explained, leaning slightly to the left, closer to you. “I wouldn’t be working on anything this late except if it was for me.”

His eyes were on you again, drinking you in as you sat on the bike. He placed his hand on the fuel tank, so close to yours. Your stomach was definitely doing flip-flops now, especially when you noticed the way his eyes raked down your figure. You wished you’d chosen something better to wear, something other than a pair of jeans and a cropped hoodie, but you’d only expected to be getting work done in the waiting room today. Not to be confronted by your old school crush. But it looked like it didn’t matter to him. The way he was looking at you … it felt like you were naked.

“It really is nice to see you again,” he said, voice just slightly above a whisper. His stance changed and he moved to stand between your legs.

You bit your lip for a moment. “You already said that.”

“You’re right. Uh … I …” He looked down at his hands, flexing them, breaking his nerves. “You just … look very pretty … sitting on my bike.”

You looked down at yourself. The way you sat with your legs spread wide was anything but attractive, and it wasn’t like you were wearing a cute, little dress. “I do?”

But when you lifted your stare again, his face was so much closer to yours. He was leaning down now, bracing two hands on the leather seat, and trying to pretend like he wasn’t inhaling your perfume. You just smelled … so good. Like strawberries and apples and … cherries. Red, ripened cherries. And the way you were sitting on that seat, eyes wide and cheeks blushing from being caught earlier. Fuck, it reminded him of the first time he saw you in high school. He had been a horny teenager, of course, but the way he saw you tie that cherry stem with your tongue … you were the first person he ever jerked off to the thought of. He had never made a move on you – ever – but at this moment, he was glad. Because things would’ve been different, and you never would’ve ended up loitering at his shop, and you never would’ve been sitting so pretty on his bike, all these years later.

“I just …” He trailed off, words failing him, as he lifted a hand to skim it over your jawline. “You can tell me to stop.”

But you didn’t. You wouldn’t. Your eyes simply batted up at him, leaning into his touch when his fingers caressed your cheek. Your skin immediately flushed. You were so soft, and warm, and god, did his skin prickle when he touched you. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” He muttered, voice gravely. You nodded instantly, and his thumb went to trace the outline of your lips. “I had always been … jealous that Mikey got to you first.”

Had your feelings in high school been reciprocated and you didn’t even know it? You licked at the corners of your lips, your tongue quickly flicking his thumb in the process. “You were?” You asked, already feeling yourself getting wet from just him tracing your lips. “I … never really liked Mikey anyways.” You then shook your head. “It feels silly to talk about this so many years later –”

Draken turned your face back to his, looking into your eyes sternly. “You never liked Mikey,” he said, point blank, pressing his thumb onto your bottom lip.

Without hesitation, you wrapped your lips around his thumb, swirling your tongue around the fingertip. You shook your head at his question.

His breath hitched. Just the sight of your lips around his thumb had him adjusting himself in his pants. He could feel his cock start to swell with need, causing him to mumble a soft, “Fuck,” under his breath.

You weren’t just wet now. You were soaked.

You slipped your mouth off his thumb, leaving a tiny trail of spit. His face immediately got closer, his lips grazing yours. He could tell they were soft, and even your chapstick smelled like cherries. God, how could he be so hard already? “I liked you back when we were teenagers,” you confessed, reaching out to hook your thumbs in the belt loops on his coveralls. “I was too scared to say anything, and Mikey … he’d just been there. Right place at the right time. We really didn’t feel anything for each other.”

Your words stirred something within him, something more than jealousy. Was it regret? The fact that he could’ve had you, all those years ago, if he’d just manned up and asked. He could’ve fought people all day, but when it came to asking out the girl he liked, he’d sat back, let his best friend pop your cherry. It should’ve been him. Fuck, it could’ve been him. 

His lips pressed to yours instantly, needing to taste the sweetness on your lips. His tongue darted out, swiping at that cherry flavor, and he moaned. Actually moaned. Draken wasn’t known to be weak for anyone, but you … you had always been a different story. You pulled him in closer by his belt loops, tipping your face up as he leaned over you. His mouth devoured yours, his tongue slipping past your lips once again to explore your mouth. He gripped the edge of the seat, his other hand cradling your jaw, and you wanted him so much closer. If he just put his knee between your legs, you could –

There it was. He did it, placing his knee right in the perfect spot. You bucked your hips up, setting a slow grind against his knee as he kissed you with feverish intent. Moans fell from your lips and into the kiss, making the tent in his pants grow bigger every passing second. He was so fucking hard now, and he needed more of you. He would have more of you.

“No, stop,” he muttered, breaking the kiss and moving his knee away. You huffed with disappointment, wanting that delicious friction once again, but when you opened your eyes, he was staring at you with purpose. “Please, let me taste you.”

You nodded dumbly, eyes blown out with lust. All you could say was, “Okay.”

In another life, you would’ve said something endearing, or maybe even hit him with a little dirty talk. But you absolutely couldn’t right now. Your head was swimming, the image of him unzipping your jeans and taking them off felt like it was out of a fever dream. Is this what it felt like to drown? No, you were breathing – just about – and Draken was throwing your pants off to the side, kneeling before you. Your legs spread wide as you sat on the bike. Surely, there could’ve been a better place to do this, but the way he was staring at your soaked panties, pushing them to the side to take in your pussy … you knew there was no stopping him. This was just his first course of the night.

His tongue dove between your wet folds, drinking you in like a glass of lemonade on a hot summer’s day. You knew you were done for when his arms wrapped around your legs, holding them apart, giving himself better access to one thing he’d craved for years. He rolled his tongue over your swollen clit, enjoying the sounds that slipped out of your mouth. You muttered obscenities, bucked your hips without thinking, pulled on his slicked-back hair. Anything to give you more friction on your precious, aching clit.

He dragged his tongue down, pushing it inside your warmth, collecting the arousal and groaning like a man starved. Fucking his tongue into you, he angled his nose to brush your clit, and you just about mewled. You had spent so many years either having mediocre sex or stressing over this stupid job, when this – this man you had been in love with in school – was here the whole time, just dreaming about the day he could eat your pussy. So much time wasted, so many fake orgasms, while Ken Ryuguji owned your favorite auto shop, so close to you and right under your nose. 

You were pretty sure the seat on this bike had to have been ruined. Draken was turning you into a wet mess, making your hips buck against his face. His lips wrapped your beloved clit, sucking and pulling, needing more – so much more – of you. Slipping two fingers inside you, he pumped them fast. It didn’t take long for his fingers to curl and find that sweet spot that had your core trembling around him. He didn’t know what he’d do if you came on his face. Honestly, he’d probably cum in his pants on the spot.

“C’mon … c’mon … you can cum in my m–mouth –” He was practically begging, his voice muffled from deep within your thighs. “Tastes so, so good … fuck, Cherry, fuck –”

You couldn’t stop yourself, couldn’t even think about anything but the way his tongue lapped at your clit, before you were cumming on his tongue, your arousal smearing all over his lips. He moaned the second he got just a hint of your essence, burying his face more into your legs. You tasted better than candy, than cherries, than menthol cigarettes. He could spend forever between these thighs, drinking you in and listening to your desperate moans.

Once your body stopped shaking, he dragged his tongue one last time through your folds, making sure he didn’t miss a drop. You yelped from the overstimulation, and when you opened your eyes, he was rising from in between your legs. His licked at your slick still staining his lips, bringing your mouth to his again, letting you taste yourself. Your hands fisted into his shirt, downright desperate for more of him. As if reading your thoughts, he pulled back.

“I know it’s not ideal, given the place we’re in, but …” He cradled your face in both in his hands, as if you were just a baby bird. “Can I fuck you, Cherry?”

You nodded without hesitation, already drunk on his touch. You weren’t exactly sure how he planned on doing this. I mean … you two were in the dirty workshop area of an auto repair shop. This wasn’t exactly the best place to have sex. But then he was adjusting your position on the motorcycle, laying your head down by the handlebar and pulling your legs on both sides of the seat, your ass resting nicely in the curve. His hands were quick to roll off your panties.

“Ken,” you called out, sitting up a little and dragging your hand up. His white tank bunched up at the waist. “Wanna see more of you …”

Draken was so goddamn hard in his pants, his cock throbbing with the anticipation of being inside you, but you were just so pretty and he was putty in your hands. He let your palms explore him, lifting his tank top up so you could see what the fabric had been concealing. He’d really filled out since school – his arms were toned, his abdomen more defined. He looked like the statue of Apollo, all lean and muscled, but with just the right amount of grit. You liked that he never got his dragon tattoo removed (although, that would’ve been very painful), and that his piercings remained the same. Everything about him seemed untouched, but he’d just gotten better with age. Just the sight of him made your mouth water.

You leaned back down on the bike, bringing him down with you. Your lips pressed against his hungrily, and he was so, so tempted to slip his tongue into your mouth, when he felt his cock hard as a rock in his pants, aching and pulsating. His mouth broke away from yours, and he whispered, quite hopelessly, “I’m so sorry, but I really, really need to be inside you or my dick is going to explode.”

A chuckle escaped your lips, and just the sound of it made Draken smile. You nodded, urging him to continue, and he quickly unzipped the bottom half of his coveralls. He took his cock out: it was long, curved, pink at the tip, and leaking precum on the shop floor. All the more reason to be inside you; he couldn’t have his mechanics seeing that on the floor and wondering what he was doing after hours. He pulled a condom out from his wallet and slid the ribbed rubber on. Lifting both your legs onto his shoulders, your ass was almost rising off the seat and he positioned himself between your thighs, noticing the way your slick was smeared all over his seat. He grunted at the sight of it, slamming his cock into your without thinking.

You cried out, feeling him so deep so quickly. He held your legs up, leaning down as far as he could, and muttered, “Fuck, I’m sorry – so sorry – just … needed to be inside you. Needed to fuck you on my bike.”

You hand came up to cup his chin for a moment. “S’okay,” you promised, “just fuck me like you should’ve done years ago, Draken.”

He knew he told you to call him Ken, but just the nickname falling your lips in such a filthy manner had him groaning. Draken pulled out of you until only the tip remained, and then pounded his cock back inside you. You keened, trying to close your legs, but he held them up by his shoulders. He set a fast pace inside you, unable to keep his moans at bay, and slipped one hand off your leg to snake his fingers up your hoodie, pushing it up to your chin. Pulling your breasts out from your bra, his eyes clouded and played with your sensitive nipples. “So good,” he muttered, teeth sinking into his bottom lip for a moment. “Feels so, so good … needed you for so long, Cherry.”

“I know, I know, Draken,” you whimpered, locking your arms around his neck to bring his face closer to yours, your thighs now curling against your chest. Your back ached against the seat and your legs burned from the uncomfortable position, but you wouldn’t dare push him away, not when he was filling you like this. 

With his lips just grazing yours, he tugged on your lip, making you moan, and he fucked into you harder. Your nails were now dragging down his shoulders, leaving marks that he’d think about forever. “Fuck, I’m s’deep … so deep inside you. You’re so warm, so wet – fuck, I’m so close already.”

“Wait for me,” you begged, sighing as his cock curved against your sweet spot. “Wanna cum with you, Draken.”

“I know, Cherry,” he grunted, his pace relentless. Fuck, this was all he ever needed, all he wanted to do, forever. It felt like you were made to take him. “Touch yourself f’me. Cum together … we’ll cum together.”

You nodded quickly, moving your hand in between your bodies, finding your puffy clit so easily. A whine escaped your lips as you fingers rubbed little circles, getting you so close already. You just needed a little push. Draken was slamming into you, his breaths fanning your cheeks, and when he felt your legs start to shake, your walls clenching just a little, he almost died. “Such a good girl …” He cooed, nose brushing yours. “Touching yourself f’me so nicely … fuck, you take me so well … yes, yes, you’re so close. Just like that.”

Your fingers rubbed a little faster, and you knew your orgasm was imminent. With him pushing into you, filling you completely, and the stimulation on your clit … you felt your lips purse into an O-shape. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Draken. I’m gonna … fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“I know, I know,” he groaned. “Fuck – gonna cum too. That’s a good girl … doing so good – fuck –”

His release came first. He had been close for so long, Draken was surprised he’d been able to hold back. He came with a loud groan, spilling himself into the condom, and it was only seconds later that your jaw went slack with pleasure. His name fell from your lips in a whimper, and you kept rubbing that aching clit through your orgasm, going tight around his cock. He wouldn’t stop fucking into you, even when your orgasm subsided, needing to feel you clench around him for just a moment longer. The way he filled you wasn’t like any other. You never wanted to feel empty again. You couldn’t, not when you knew how Ken Ryuguji felt inside you.

When you both eventually stopped trembling, he gently placed your legs back down on the sides of the bike. They felt sore and limp, but that was the last thing on your mind. You opened your eyes at the same time, and you both couldn’t help but laugh at the position you were in, the absurdity of it all. The workshop smelled like gas and oil, and you were surrounded by broken-down cars. But you two had fucked like you were in a bedroom, on a soft mattress, rather than a motorcycle. You hand went over your mouth to suppress your giggles.

Draken smiled with you, and then removed your hand, liking the way you laughed. “I know it’s been a long time coming, but … can I take you out some night?”

You couldn’t stop smiling even if you tried. “I’d like that, Ken.”

His cock had gone soft, but he was still nestled inside you, basking in your warmth. Draken wished he could be inside you forever, with your fingers playing with his hair. He would give anything for this moment to last, but he knew this position on the bike had to be the most uncomfortable for you, and he needed to take off this condom. He chuckled under his breath.

“Also, in case you were wondering,” he said, lips pulling into a smirk. “You can loiter around my waiting room anytime.”

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

happy khux finale anniversary… <:’)

inspired by this post + me re-reading ataraxia and getting blasted with these lines:

[My notes on each universe]

[lydiastormborn]

Riz knows that, technically, he doesn’t need to be coming to school; they aced the Last Stand for a reason, after all. Still, there are things to do when he comes by in those final weeks — some of the clubs he signed up for are actually interesting, now that he doesn’t just stumble from one meeting to the other, half conscious, only for the sake of extra credit. And, of course, there’s budding student government stuff. (He did mean it when he told Kristen he wants to be involved.)

That’s when one afternoon, when he’s coming back from the library, he sees several packed boxes in front of the guidance counselor's office, and stops, confused.

There’s a fleeting urge to not get involved, lest he risks another attempt at a pep talk from Jawbone, but investigative instincts win over. He knocks on the open door.

“Hey, Jawbone?” he calls out.

...

Three conversations Riz has about Kipperlilly Copperkettle, post-Ragenarok.

[moris-auri]

A piece of you between my teeth (Keep me as a memory)

Summary:

Sent as an envoy for his brother to treat with the Lord of Winterfell, Aemond goes north, and learns there is more to Cregan Stark than meets the eye.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Cregan Stark

warnings: M/M, power dynamics, 18+, MDNI, darker aemond

dividers by @arcielee

coming soon!

[honeybee-taskforce]

Relationship: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand Rating: Explicit (Sexual Content) Word Count: 6.2k Tags: Alternate Universe - Band, Band Fic, PwP, PwF Bonus Tags: the 126 crew are a band, TK Strand may be teasing Carlos Reyes on purpose, the concert clothes stay ON during sex, the mirror is chekov's gun tbh, sex in a break room

Summary: The crowd is singing along and the smile on TK's face grows impossibly bigger. This is his element and where he shines most. TK is too busy hyping up the crowd to notice the hungry staring from the VIP front row that Carlos can see, though. TK's shirt is off and he's jumping around, waving his arms back and forth to the song and pointing his microphone to the crowd for certain lyrics. He is laughing and enjoying himself . Carlos has never been more in love and can't stop staring or his own smile spreading.

[read on AO3]

hope you enjoy <3

[boojangs]

Two for Tripping (Into Love): Chapter 17

HAPPY PRIDE!!

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

"On a Bright Day, Next Week" is now complete!

When Stede Bonnet wakes up from cryosleep alone and with no memories other than a vague feeling of unease, he's not sure who he is or how he wound up at Queen Anne Research Laboratories. When he's told that he has to help replace ED, the AI controlling the facility, he and ED are thrown straight into a mystery surrounding ED's history of bizarre behavior, Stede's missing memories, and how their pasts intersect.

This is a Portal-inspired AU, but it veers heavily away from the source material! If you like Portal, you'll find some fun easter eggs, but knowledge of those games isn't at all necessary. This fic is rated M, 54k words across 16 chapters. Expect lots of angst and hurt/comfort to start with a very soft, satisfying finish.

[florisbaratheons]

The Wrath of the Queen, 2/?

"You would become the wretchedest of women."

"Then let it be," said Alicent Hightower.

--

For over a hundred years, House Targaryen had unleashed its wrath upon the land of Westeros, ruling with blood and fire.

But after a great tragedy, now House Targaryen must face the wrath of Alicent Hightower.

Dragons be damned.

AO3 Chapter Two

@pookiebearsnookumsalicent @greenqueenhightower @thewitchqueenofharrenhal @gwenllian-in-the-abbey @branwendaughterofllyr @alysscoven @alicent-archive @userhelaena @fairysluna @darylandbethfanforever9 @peters-lab-partner @alicentsultana @ragnyra @asoiastarks @tell-them-the-north-remembers

[calaisreno]

Ravelling by Calais Reno

Sherlock ruins John's favourite jumper. To make amends, he secretly learns to knit and replaces it. Yes, there is angst. And love. And socks!

Here is the last of my May Prompts 2024 stories, a continuation of His Favourite Jumper. I've added two chapters to the story, carrying John through two years of grief, bringing Sherlock home, and leaving them in a happy place.

Thanks for reading! Happy Pride Month!

@lisbeth-kk @stars-a-n-d-scars @keirgreeneyes @peanitbear @thalialunacy

[moviemandy]

Playing Tricks, Let’s Kiss Forreal

Summary: “Okay,” Angela states plainly. “Huh?” Amanda begins to question, but has no time to register what Angela has even said before she’s seizing her lips into a fierce kiss. Amanda’s eyes widen and her face flushes hot. The unexpected contact leaves her completely flustered and has the other three members gobsmacked.

made a drabble inspired from this awesome fanart by @ammnd

[silenzahra]

Flying together in the sunset light 🌄✨

It's done at last! 😁 Here's my Kitsune and Tanooki story for all of you to enjoy! ✨

This fic was inspired by this beautiful piece by @cherryfennec, and even though it's taken me some time to finally have it ready, I really hope you'll like the result! Also, as I was talking about it with the wonderful @itsavee4117, he went and made this adorable drawing to which I hope to have done justice.

A bit of context: this story takes place shortly after the Superstar scene from the movie, but before the brothers have moved to the Mushroom Kingdom. You'll see some hints of some of my personal headcanons for them, like Luigi playing the violin (a headcanon I share with the amazing @vulpixfairy1985) or Mario having dated Pauline in the past. And also mentions to some scenes from the movie.

The story is divided into two scenes. The first one revolves around the brothers, while the second one is focused mostly on Mareach, though you'll also see some more brotherly love scenes, as well as a bit of teasing. I really like the way both scenes turned out, so I truly and sincerely hope you'll enjoy them! 💖

Without further ado, here's the link to AO3, though you can also continue reading below the cut! ✨

TW: Slight panic attack, slight separation anxiety ⚠

@itsavee4117 @vulpixfairy1985 @peaches2217 @bberetd @pepperycar

@keakruiser @kelbreyworshipper @stripetkattelalala54-gf @doodleydoo101 and anybody else who'd like to read this: I really hope you enjoy! 💖 (If you're not interested feel free to ignore this tag 😅)

Flying together in the sunset light 🌄✨

When Mario hits the block, a brown leaf flies out from inside it. The block, formerly yellow, immediately turns brown, similar to a brick, and Luigi watches it for a few seconds in silence before daring to look up at the power-up it has ejected.

The brown leaf, with a round opening at the top left, flutters in the air, its silhouette trimmed against the orangey sky. Luigi swallows, unsure, as he realizes that, like so many other things in the Mushroom Kingdom, this leaf also has eyes. Black, small and elongated eyes, that seem to pierce him whenever they rest on him while their owner continues to float. It slowly descends between the two brothers, and Luigi almost feels Mario's gaze, in front of him, sink into him, full of expectation.

“You ready, Lu?”

Luigi turns to him, doubt painted on his face. His brother's voice, as well as his whole appearance, is impregnated with warmth and sweetness, just like every time he addresses him, even when they joke. Mario smiles directly at him, trying to convey confidence, and Luigi, just like every time he notices it, feels a warmth in his heart that manages to draw a smile on his lips.

If Mario is sure, then he can be sure too.

Even though he’s unable to completely hide his fear, he nods. Mario's grin widens in a way that shows his teeth and makes his cheeks appear fuller than usual, and he raises his arm in the direction of the leaf.

“Together,” he says, his blue eyes shining with excitement.

Luigi can't help but remember the time when they touched the superstar together, and before he knows it, he finds himself catching his brother's enthusiasm. That was dangerous, yes, but also exciting, thrilling, epic, and the connection he shared with Mario during those minutes he can't put into words. He only knows that he felt closer to him than ever, through a force impossible to explain that only strengthened the already solid bond that has existed between them even before they were born.

This moment, however, is calm. Relaxed. Serene. The forest they are in, near the Mushroom Kingdom, is beautiful, full of life, and it’s filled his heart with peace to walk through its trees and discover the fauna and flora that inhabit it. In addition, the princess and Toad, his new best friend, are also there with them, and both have been happy to answer all of Luigi's questions about the creatures and plants they have encountered. Peach seems to have in common with him the fascination for gardening, as she hasn’t hesitated to talk about her favorite flowers in great detail.

Now, both the princess and the little mushroom man are waiting attentively for the moment when both brothers will touch the Super Leaf.

It’ll be the second time for Mario. The first, in fact, was the one that saved Luigi's life. Mario was able to catch him thanks to the raccoon disguise that this power-up gave him, thus preventing Luigi from being devoured by the lava that had been stalking him for more than three days and towards which he was hopelessly rushing.

For Luigi, on the other hand, it's going to be a first.

He’s only used one power-up so far and is nervous at the prospect of trying a new one. However, he knows for sure that neither his brother nor his new friends would let anything bad happen to him. Moreover, as he has just remembered, it is thanks to this power-up that Luigi is still alive and well.

Nothing can hurt him as long as he’s with Mario.

So, with a new determination rising in him at the confidence these thoughts give him, Luigi nods in the direction of his twin and raises his arm as well.

The assurance on Mario's face grows to see him so resolute. In unison, they both reach out their hands and their fingers rub the soft brown leaf at the same time.

Immediately, the leaf vanishes in front of them as thick smoke surrounds both brothers, blinding them for a second. While covering his eyes with his hand, Luigi can't help but shrink in on himself with a slight cry due to surprise, as this is not what he had expected. Fortunately, the smoke soon begins to dissipate.

Soon, in front of him, he distinguishes the figure of Mario, again dressed in that outfit that makes him resemble a bear, with a red bandana around his neck that Luigi doesn't remember noticing the first time. Luigi smiles, unable to restrain himself; whatever Mario says about it being a raccoon, for him it’s still very similar to a bear. And very soft, too! He perfectly remembers the feel of Mario’s arms holding him tightly after saving him from the clutches of death, how warm and comfortable he felt not only for being back with his beloved brother, but also for the velvety softness of the suit that enveloped him. Luigi recalls the moment when Mario even lifted him into the air, which made his face sink a little deeper into the silky fur, and he’s sorely tempted to reach out and stroke his brother's costume again, a new joke on the tip of his tongue.

However, Mario's expression stops him.

At first, he was smiling with his arms on his hips, amused at Luigi’s scrutiny. However, after examining his brother up and down, Mario seems... puzzled. Not just surprised, but utterly confused, as if he didn't expect something that just happened. Luigi can't help but startle and shrink again, for the source of Mario's confusion is clearly him.

“W-what's wrong?” he asks, worried.

He immediately lowers his head to start looking at himself, wanting to find out what has caused his brother to stare at him that way, and freezes when he realizes that his disguise is not that of a brown bear like Mario's. No: his outfit is yellow. A slightly darker shade on his legs and a little lighter on his stomach. Luigi scans his arms and finds them to be the same ochre color, and as he feels his head with trembling hands, panic growing inside him, he realizes that his ears are very pointed, unlike Mario's, which are rounded. He jolts when he notices that something is waving behind his back and, turning around, he discovers a bushy, thick tail with a flaming tip that, like his belly, is a soft yellow, lighter than the rest of his body.

Luigi doesn't realize that he’s begun to hyperventilate until he feels Mario's hands smoothly resting on his arms. His brother acts tactfully, gently, but even so, Luigi becomes alarmed again, unable to control himself.

“It's all right, Lu.” His twin tries to calm him down, rubbing his arms softly.

“Mario! What's happening? Why am I... a wolf?”

“You're not a wolf, Luigi...", Mario replies, examining him, although he doesn't sound very convinced.

“And these ears? And this tail!? What else would I be? Why am I not a bear like you? What's going on!?”

Luigi is unable to control the rising pitch of his voice, which becomes higher and higher as panic takes over. Mario seems to want to tell him many things, but, given his little brother's shock, he settles for continuing to massage his arms as he slowly approaches him and shakes his head, a soft “Shhh” bursting between his lips. Luigi lies very still and closes his eyes, pressing his hands against his ears, and tries his best to calm himself, but despite having his brother by his side, he doesn't find it easy.

“It's all right, Lu,” Mario then whispers, his head near to his. “Breathe with me, okay? Inhale...”

Mario himself begins to take a breath to encourage Luigi to do the same, and he, although it's hard for him, obeys. The oxygen gradually enters his lungs and fills them, and Luigi holds his breath for a few seconds.

“Exhale,” Mario then tells him in a new murmur.

And, at the same slow pace at which he breathed in, Luigi begins to breathe out, and he hears his brother doing it too so that they breathe together. Then he notices Mario's forehead resting soothingly on his, and the contact is like a balm that instantly comforts him. Not even realizing it, he lowers his hands to rest them on Mario's shoulders, and his twin, not letting go nor separating from him, continues to help him stabilize his breathing.

Thanks to his brother's patience and affection, Luigi doesn’t take more than a few minutes to open his eyes again. He meets Mario's, bright with worry, but also overflowing with the infinite love he has for him. Luigi smiles, a little embarrassed that he just had a panic attack because his costume doesn't look like Mario's even though they’ve touched the same power-up in unison.

“Everything's fine, Lu,” Mario repeats, sounding livelier, and turns away from him to take a step back and examine him up and down, his hand still on Luigi's shoulder. ��I think you are... You're a fox!” he concludes.

“A-a fox?”

Luigi examines himself again, puzzled. Don't foxes have orange fur?

“Are you sure I'm not a blond wolf? Or maybe... a cat?” he suggests.

Mario chuckles, and his laughter is echoed by Peach and Toad, who were standing a bit away to give them space.

“Believe me, Luigi,” the princess then intervenes, gazing at him with gentleness and, also, with a certain amusement shining in her blue eyes. “I’ve seen Mario using the Super Bell and his outfit, although similar, is different from yours.”

Luigi then remembers the story that Mario narrated during their first family dinner after their adventure in the Mushroom Kingdom. He recalls how he told them that the power-up he found during the fight against Donkey Kong made him turn into a cat and how everyone at the table, his uncles Tony and Arthur the first and loudest, burst out laughing when they heard it. That didn't stop Mario, however, and Luigi covers his mouth with his hand to try to contain the giggle that threatens to escape him. How he would’ve loved to witness the moment when his older brother turned into a cute little cat!

Mario, his arms folded, looks up to the sky with resignation, ignoring his brother's mocking expression, and turns to the princess, who observes them with her hands behind her back and a wide smile on her lips.

“So...?” Mario asks, raising a hand inquisitively.

“Luigi: you're a Kitsune,” Peach reveals with poise, her attention fixed on him.

“A what?” the brothers repeat in unison, looking at each other, their surprise reflected in each other's eyes.

Toad laughs, amused at their timing, and Peach lets out a soft giggle before continuing.

“The Super Leaf can transform whoever uses it into a Tanooki,” she explains. “That's what I become, and so do you, Mario, and Toad, and many others. But,” she adds, raising a finger to silence the questions the brothers were about to ask, “sometimes, when two people who share a very strong and deep bond use the Super Leaf at the same time, it is likely that one becomes a Tanooki and the other a Kitsune. This is because, according to legends, they are animals that often lived together, helped each other and came to behave and love each other like siblings. And proof of this” she adds, extending her hands towards both of them “are the bandanas that have appeared with your outfits.”

Luigi hadn't even noticed the bandana around his neck until he feels Peach slightly sliding a finger across it. Luigi grabs it and pulls the end carefully, and smiles when he sees that the garment is a soft green that reminds him of the color of the trees in summer. The princess' words keep echoing in his head, and he considers them as his eyes and fingers roam over the bandana almost absent-mindedly. Is it true, then? Has he turned into a Kitsune because of his bond with Mario? Is that the reason why, the first time he tried the power-up, his brother didn't wear a red bandana around his neck? Has it appeared... because of him? Because they grabbed the leaf together?

Fingers on his shoulder bring him back to the present. Turning his head, Luigi meets the warm smile of his twin, who, with his other hand, holds the red garment around his neck. Luigi's eyes open wide as he realizes that his theory is correct: indeed, using the power-up at the same time is what has caused both bandanas to appear, as a symbol of the bond that unites them. A pleased smile blossoms on his face. When his gaze meets Mario's, he feels it, right there: the bond, which has linked them since before they were even born, has continued to grow all these years, all their lives, and now, due to the magic of the power-up, it feels more solid and intense than ever. Luigi thinks he could almost touch it, even, if he were to lift his hand between his brother and himself.

But he doesn't need to. Sure, he can touch the bond he shares with his twin. He does it every time his hand finds Mario's. He does it every time his sibling embraces him with that impetus and effusiveness that characterize him, making him feel loved and protected and safe. He does so now, in fact, while Mario's fingers linger on his shoulder, brushing it affectionately.

They share a silent glance, smiling. They don't need words: their eyes speak for them. Both their faces gleam with emotion, and Luigi knows that Mario is feeling the same way he is. He knows they both notice how their connection, just like when they used the star, has been enhanced. Intensified. Strengthened.

Their bond is firm, never-ending and unbreakable.

Despite their mutual understanding, Luigi notices that, little by little, Mario's expression becomes naughty. His brother then begins to shake his raccoon tail and, after giving him a gentle and playful tap on the shoulder, he begins to soar into the air.

“Come on, Lu!” he says, inviting him with a wave of his hand. “Let's go for a ride!”

Although his brother's enthusiasm is contagious, Luigi vacillates, unsure. It's one thing to understand why his costume is different from Mario's, and quite another to actually use it. Hesitantly, he observes his back, where his flaming limb sways softly. Will it really be able to keep him in the air? Won't he fall into the ground?

Peach's slender fingers on his shoulder startle him a little.

“It's completely safe, Luigi,” she promises him, giving him a smile full of sweetness. “You can fly, I assure you.”

“Yes,” Toad exclaims, excited. “You'll do great, you'll see.”

“Lu?” Mario lands in front of him and looks at his twin with a raised eyebrow. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh! Uh... Y-yes,” Luigi mumbles, not wanting to worry him, nor the princess or Toad, and massages his head nervously. “I-I just don't quite know how to... How to...”

As he speaks, he glances again at his tail, which is still wagging of its own accord, and stares at it with a worried expression that reflects his insecurity. Luckily, Mario, his dear brother, knows him so well that he doesn't need Luigi to finish the sentence.

“Don't worry!” he exclaims, and grabs him firmly with both hands, wrapping his fingers around Luigi's wrist, their palms touching. “I'll guide you. I won't let you fall, Lu. I promise.”

Luigi didn't need Mario to promise him: he knows his sibling won't let him fall for anything in the world, no matter what. He ignores how his Kitsune power-up works, but his trust in Mario is so blind and deep that he nods before he realizes it, smiling at his twin’s energy. Mario tugs gently at him, beginning to rise again, and Luigi barely has time to swallow before his own tail, which definitely seems to be alive, begins to pull him away from the ground as well.

And suddenly, Luigi is flying.

Panic overtakes him again the second his brain registers this information. His limb flails on its own, yes, but Luigi can't help but start shaking his legs as he clutches Mario with both hands, desperate, a shriek of fright escaping his throat. His breathing is racing again, and he wonders, terrified, at what point did it occur to him that this would be a good idea.

“It's all right!” Mario hastens to reassure him, his grip around his wrist more resolute and solid than ever. “You can do it, Luigi! Trust the tail!”

“W-what?”

Luigi isn't sure he heard correctly: trust the tail? Out of inertia, Luigi looks over his shoulder to take a peek at it. The limb rotates on itself, functioning like a helicopter propeller, and a twinge of embarrassment overcomes Luigi when he notices that his lower part is a pinch higher than the rest of his body.

He can't deny that his new friend doesn't seem willing to let him fall.

“I know it's weird,” Mario continues, his voice sounding calm and soft, “but the tail knows what to do. You just have to focus on its movements, and you can learn to control it.”

“Control it?” Luigi repeats, turning to his brother. “Can you do that?”

“Yes!” Mario nods assuredly, giving him an encouraging smile. “You'll see: it's much easier than it looks! Just focus. Can you feel it spinning behind you?”

Clinging to Mario, whose tail moves confidently in the air, Luigi makes an effort to listen to his explanation and follow his instructions. Inadvertently, he frowns as he tries to understand how this power-up works. As Mario has told him, the tail seems to know what it needs to do to keep him in the air, but it's up to Luigi to learn how to manage it so he can move in any direction he pleases. Also, as Mario points out, with some practice he will reach great speed, and even though he doesn't mention it, Luigi immediately understands that he’s remembering the moment he saved him from being burned to death.

Had it not been for the celerity of his raccoon outfit, Mario wouldn’t have made it in time.

This certainty only strengthens Luigi's determination. He has to get the hang of his fox costume. What if something happens that causes Mario to be in danger? What if he's the one who needs Luigi to save him from certain death? Luigi doesn't want to imagine the worst, but of course he plans to be there for his brother at all times. This sudden fear is but one more motivation to encourage him to learn.

His brow is still furrowed. He doesn't notice, but his tongue pokes out from between his lips as he focuses on the sway of his tail, whose fur glistens, somewhat darker, in the sunset light. His fingers are still clamped around Mario's, who hasn't let go of his wrist for a second.

“That's it, Lu,” he says, satisfied with his effort. “You're almost there! I know it's not easy, but you can do it, little brother. I believe in you.”

At the passion in his brother's words, Luigi turns his face towards him. Mario, holding him, grins widely, his smile and his blue gaze full not only of affection, but of faith. An unshakable faith in him, in Luigi, that makes something stir inside him.

Luigi has never doubted that his brother believes in him. Mario has always done so, even the times when Luigi has most distrusted himself. He did so when Luigi started practicing violin, even though many of his classmates mocked him and undermined his self-esteem. He did it when Luigi competed in track and field in high school, something Luigi loved to do but, again, was insecure because of the laughter of the other students. He did it when Luigi began to learn the ins and outs of plumbing so he could work with Mario, even though Luigi felt clumsier than usual.

On all those occasions, Mario was there. Not only did he defend and protect his little brother from those who made fun of him and his skills, but he made sure to tell him over and over again how good he was at athletics, plumbing and playing the violin. He always spoke passionately about how exciting it was to watch Luigi run around the track or listen to him perform his favorite pieces, and he emphasized endlessly every little thing Luigi learned when they were preparing to be plumbers, praising him incessantly. Mario did it not just because he wanted to encourage his twin and make him feel better, but because he believed in him wholeheartedly.

He believes in him wholeheartedly.

And, of course, he still does now that he’s teaching Luigi how to use a power that is completely new to him.

Luigi realizes in that instant that this, the blind faith that Mario has always placed in him, is all he has needed throughout his life to progress, to grow, to improve.

To, in short, believe in himself.

If Mario believes in him, Luigi knows that he’s capable of doing whatever he sets his mind to.

And at this moment, Mario knows that Luigi can learn to handle his fox tail so that he can fly along with him.

So Luigi, struck by the intense love and trust he can read in his brother's eyes as clearly as if it were one of the novels he loves to devour, resumes his task, even more resolute to see it through. He observes his limb out of the corner of his eye again and fixes all his attention on it, on feeling it, on capturing the direction in which it moves and also the speed with which it moves. He doesn’t notice, as focused as he is, the smile that, little by little, lights up his brother's face when he sees his efforts.

Until, suddenly, he succeeds.

When the tail turns, Luigi feels that he’s the one in control. Due to surprise and excitement, he loses focus a bit and stops wagging it, causing his body to suddenly slide down, which makes him scream in fear.

But, of course, there's Mario. Holding him tightly and securely and smiling gleefully.

“That's it, Lu!” His eyes sparkle as he compliments him. “You've almost got it!”

Buoyed by his brother's encouragement, Luigi repeats the action and can't believe it when he sees that it’s worked again. He’s wagging his tail and his body, once again, is rising. Almost as a reflex, Luigi pulls one hand away from Mario’s and shakes it too, as if copying a bird, and imitates the movement with his legs without even realizing it.

“Mario!” he exclaims with laughter of pure joy, “Mario, I'm doing it!”

His brother responds with a loud guffaw.

“Of course you are!” he exclaims.

Luigi soon notices that Mario has begun to ascend, gently dragging him up, causing Luigi to rush up and grab him with both hands once more. Turning to Mario again, a cackle caught in his throat, Luigi is struck dumb for a moment, transfixed by the intense, pride-filled glance his older brother gives him.

He can't believe it. Is Mario really… proud? Proud of him? Proud of him for having learned to do something that took Mario only a few seconds to do? Luigi doesn't understand, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn't happy. That his heart is not filled with mirth. That a very pleasant warmth does not spread through his chest as a smile, at once overwhelmed and radiant, blooms on his lips.

Mario being proud of him is more than he could ask of life.

Then his twin tugs at him again, his smile mischievous once more. A laugh bursts at last from Luigi's throat as he feels his brother propel him upward, climbing higher and higher, into the thick canopies of the trees around them. And, before he can realize it, the two of them are flying, together, flitting among the branches and chuckling loudly, the golden light of the sunset bathing their faces, shining on their fur and matching bandanas and lighting their blissful expressions.

Mario doesn't take his fingers away from Luigi's hand even once. Their eyes constantly search each other's, laughter filling their chests every time they meet. Luigi takes pleasure in the lovely scenery of the Mushroom Kingdom, the beautiful, lush vegetation and the wonderful feeling of being able to look down on it from above. The place is absolutely gorgeous, and he’s suddenly struck by the question of what it’d be like to wake up and go to bed every day with such views.

Flying really is fantastic, incredible, a dream he didn't even know he wanted to fulfill, and he’s relishing in it to the fullest. Besides, the fox outfit, to his surprise, has not only molded to his body perfectly, making him feel almost the same warmth as when Mario embraced him dressed as a Tanooki, but it really seems made to stay in the air, as if that was his element. Luigi has only been wearing it for a few minutes, soaring through the orangey sky, but it already feels like a second skin.

Still, his favorite part of it all is being able to share it with his beloved brother.

Mario, who has been by his side since before he was born. Mario, who has accompanied and guided him through the hardest moments of his life. Mario, who has always believed in him. Mario, who has never let go of his hand.

Luigi feels blessed that his first time using this power-up is not only in the company of his twin, for whom he would give his life without hesitation, but more in tune than ever with him.

Suddenly, an unexpected courage floods Luigi's heart, even if he didn't know he was capable of feeling something like this at all. Guided by it, Luigi slowly separates one hand from Mario's and moves it away, describing an arc in the air until his arm is fully extended to his left, imitating, again, a hypothetical wing. With his eyes fixed on the horizon in the distance and his other hand protected by Mario's, Luigi feels completely safe despite being several meters above the ground.

And he wouldn't trade this feeling for anything.

Then he notices that Mario, also slowly, begins to withdraw one hand, the one that wrapped his own, and gazes at him somewhat shyly, as if asking for permission. Luigi smiles broadly and nods, encouraging him to copy his pose, and, emboldened, Mario also extends his arm to pretend to be a bird like him. His other hand is still firmly clutched in Luigi's, their fingers intertwined, as they belong together, and Luigi gives his twin a quick squeeze. When Mario turns to him, his smile is wide, gleaming and altogether plethoric, and Luigi returns the same gesture. In this instant, he knows that he and his brother are experiencing exactly the same feeling of fulfillment, cheerfulness and, of course, connection with each other.

They fly for a few more minutes, enjoying each other's company and the sensation of feeling the wind on their faces. From time to time they wave to Toad and the princess, who observe them from the ground, giggling, and then continue their flight for a while longer, their hands clasped together. Inside, Luigi feels like a child, like that little kid who spent hours and hours playing with his brother and having the time of his life. Tag-team, hide-and-seek, silly and sudden games they could think of on the spot, sleepovers where Mario would clown around to make Luigi laugh, his brother cracking up when Luigi imitated some of the characters from the cartoons they used to watch when they were kids.

Flying with Mario feels like going back to childhood.

Flying with Mario feels safe and fun.

Flying with Mario feels like being at home.

--------------------------------------

Mario has always been proud of his little brother.

He never doubts Luigi's abilities. Never in his life has he ever done so, and that's why he has always stood up to anyone who would try to put him down. That’s also the reason why he’s repeated to his sibling incessantly that he believes in him and that he can achieve anything he sets his mind to.

And he’s never wrong.

It took Luigi just a few minutes to get the hang of his new power-up. Mario couldn't have been happier and prouder when he saw him start to handle the tail, and that's why he then started the ascent without a second thought. His hands, of course, didn't let go of Luigi's once.

And what a good time he’s just had! Flitting through the forest with his little brother as the evening light enveloped them, highlighting the yellow and ochre tones of Luigi's outfit and the browns of Mario's, as well as the green and red of their matching bandanas!

Now, unfortunately, it’s getting late. The sun is about to set, and they must return to Brooklyn, for the next day they have to continue their work as plumbers. So, much to his regret, Mario doesn’t resist when Luigi, always the more responsible of the two, leads him to the ground with a gentle squeeze on the hand.

Even so, Mario still won't let go. He’s promised he wouldn’t, and he won't break his word again. He did it once before, when his brother needed him most, and he can never forgive himself for it.

So until Luigi's feet step on the ground, right next to his, Mario doesn't allow himself to relax. Nevertheless, he continues to keep his fingers firmly intertwined with those of his little brother, from whom he’s unable to take his eyes off. Nor can he wipe from his lips the smile of happiness that settled on his face as they took to the skies together.

Luigi's, excited, amused, charged with that spark of mischief they both retain from their shared happy childhood, makes Mario's heart glow and increase in size.

The two startle a little at Toad's shouts and Peach's applause, but they don't break contact and their smiles don't waver. Toad latches onto Luigi's leg, who wobbles a bit and inadvertently squeezes his twin’s hand, though he doesn't hesitate to pat the little mushroom man's head with his free hand as soon as he pulls himself together, letting out a somewhat hesitant chuckle. Mario laughs with all his might, delighted that his little brother has also gained a new best friend.

“You did great, Luigi!”

Mario feels his whole head suddenly reddening as soon as he hears the sweet and melodious voice of the beautiful princess, something that intensifies when his eyes fall on her beautiful visage. Peach gives a wide, satisfied smile to Luigi, to whom she claps her hands with elegance and passion, and Mario looks away immediately, shocked, while covering his cheek with his free palm to try to hide his blush. His heart fills with tenderness when he realizes that his sibling has also turned red, although for a different reason.

“Thank you, Peach,” Luigi replies, embarrassed, shyly massaging his head.

“Will you give me a ride next time?” asks Toad, still clinging to his leg.

Luigi giggles as he nods, but the princess is quick to intervene.

“Next time, we should all use the Super Leaf,” she suggests.

“That would be great!” Mario exclaims, unable to contain himself.

He immediately reprimands himself and instinctively squeezes Luigi's hand. Was it too obvious? Was his enthusiasm too evident? He doesn't know what's wrong with him, but he feels that anything the princess says or does is worthy of admiration and a tremendous ovation, and his innate impulsiveness leads him to show it before he can restrain himself.

Luckily, Peach, as sweet and kind as ever, smiles at him excitedly, her hands clasped together at chest level. She doesn't seem at all bothered by his outburst, and Mario feels his heart slowly relax. Not completely, though. With her in front of him, it's impossible.

By now, he has come to understand that his heart will never be entirely at rest as long as she’s around. He has no idea what he should do about it, but he tells himself that at least accepting it is a first step. Peach makes him nervous, in a good way, and awakens a million sensations that make his soul flutter. It's been a long time since Mario dated Pauline, but he doesn't think he's ever felt this way. And he loved Pauline very much.

At that moment, Luigi squeezes him again, bringing him back to the present, and Mario turns to him almost by inertia. He’s startled, however, when he notices Luigi's narrowed eyes and the sly, almost wicked smile he gives him. Mario raises his eyebrows, puzzled, and is about to ask a question when his brother steps forward.

“You know what, Toad?” he says, still staring at Mario, and turns to the little mushroom man before continuing, “How about I give you that ride now?”

“Now?” Toad repeats excitedly, his little black eyes glistening at the suggestion.

“Sure! We have to get home, after all,” Luigi resolves, shrugging. “So I'll take you back to the castle. And, Mario,” he adds casually, again turning to his brother, “maybe you could take the princess, right? That is, if she agrees.”

He adds the latter while giving Peach a shy smile, but she hardly notices, as her sapphire gaze is fixed on Mario. He feels his heart skips a beat as soon as he glimpses the pinkness that has covered her beautiful and delicate cheeks, and it starts racing at the way she, upon noticing it, ducks her head demurely.

“I'd love to,” Peach replies quietly, her eyes wandering everywhere, but avoiding dropping on Mario.

“That's great!” Luigi exclaims. “We'll see you at the castle!”

Luigi's hand gives Mario a final squeeze that makes him turn towards his twin, but before Mario can find the words to stop it all, or to curse his dear little brother, Luigi throws his arms around his neck in farewell.

“See you soon, big bro!”

Luigi intends to pull away, but Mario finally manages to react: he lifts his arms and closes his fingers tightly around the soft orange fur that covers his sibling. Luigi’s embrace feels warm and cozy, but the nervousness that has overcome Mario prevents him from fully enjoying the experience. A jittery chuckle emerges from his throat as, gritting his teeth, he manages to mumble in Luigi's ear:

“I'm going to kill you.”

He tries to croon it, so it won't be too obvious, especially if Toad or Peach hear it, but Luigi, of course, catches it perfectly.

“You'll thank me for this,” he whispers back, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement, and before the hug is over, Mario feels his brother's lips quickly touch his cheekbone.

“Oh, you piece of…”

Mario falls silent, his heart galloping in his chest and melting in equal parts, his face burning as if a raging fire had broken out in him. His sibling knows him too well and knows that he can't spend too much time being angry with him, especially not when he shows his affection for him in a physical way. Luigi, well aware of this, gives him a quick, mischievous wink before turning away from him completely.

Despite everything, Mario feels empty when his brother's fingers move away from his shoulders. It's something he hasn't failed to notice since he was reunited with Luigi after catching him before the lava took him away from him forever. He sees that he can't let his twin out of his sight again, that he requires Luigi's fingers to always be intertwined with his, that he needs physical contact with him more than he’s ever needed it. They’ve always been prone to hugging each other, to showing their affection teasingly: Mario often hits Luigi’s hat to pull it down to his eyes, and Luigi is used to tickling his belly all the time, not to mention their secret greeting and the many times they hold each other's hands amidst laughter and jokes.

But, after having been several days without hearing from Luigi, after having been in a state of anguish not knowing his whereabouts or even if he was well, after having been on the verge of losing him... Mario feels that being away from Luigi is like having half of his heart ripped out of his chest. It may still beat, but it doesn't pulsate as full of life and joy.

Still, Mario knows that there’s no danger. That he and his brother can be separated, voluntarily and for short periods of time, and that they’ll both be fine. Nothing is going to happen to Luigi as he flies with Toad to the Mushroom Kingdom castle, not after he’s learned to fly almost immediately with his flaming Kitsune tail. And besides, should anything happen, his sibling is quite capable of fending for himself, no matter how much Mario's instincts scream at him that he must protect him. Luigi may be his little brother, but, in the end, the difference between the two is only a few minutes. They’re twins, after all. And Luigi is as strong and brave as the next guy. He already proved it by saving Mario from Bowser's fire.

Yes, Mario is well aware that his brother will know what to do if things turn bad again.

Pride comes over him again as he recalls the moment when he opened his eyes, bruised and exhausted, thinking he was going to burn to death, and discovered his beloved little brother standing there, protecting him with a manhole cover, not caring if he got burned in the process. Mario smiles, excited, as he witnesses the moment when Luigi bends down so that Toad can jump to his back, which the cheerful mushroom man doesn't hesitate to do in one leap. There he is: his other half, learning the ins and outs of that world they discovered by chance and flying on his own.

Literally! Luigi, also smiling, gives Mario a quick wave and a warm smile to the princess before taking off, all traces of doubt and insecurity completely gone. Mario follows him with his eyes as Luigi, with his little friend on his back, flies away, arms outstretched, his posture confident and determined.

Mario's heart could burst with pride.

He stares as they fly off into the distance, as the reddish light of the setting sun envelops them, as Luigi flies back and forth playfully, and as Toad cackles loudly, raising his arms to the sky. A hearty chuckle escapes Mario's lips, and he shakes his head in amusement.

A movement that he detects out of the corner of his eye brings him back to earth and makes him suddenly realize that he has just been left alone with the princess.

His breath catches almost instantly, and he must muster all his willpower to appear natural as he turns to her. He composes a smile so shaky that he doubts if it hasn't become a grimace and curses himself. Peach and he are friends. He doesn't quite understand where these silly feelings have come from that are making him perceive himself as extremely awkward every time he interacts with her.

And yet, there it is again: the nervousness that assaults him with her mere presence, the accelerated beating of his heart, the redness that begins to color his cheeks. Mario puts his hands behind his back and looks at the princess, who smiles warmly at him, while a high-pitched laugh rises from his throat.

“Well,” he mumbles, shrugging his shoulders.

“Well,” replies Peach, slightly blushing.

Mario curses himself again for his eloquence. Increasingly uneasy, he begins to turn everywhere but towards the young woman as, in his mind, he frantically searches for the right words he should address to her to offer to take her back home. Should he do it as a friend, with a certain familiarity? Or should he perhaps keep his distance given that she is a princess? Should he... bow? And, should she agree, how should he... transport her? He can't carry her on his back like Luigi has done with Toad. Nor would it be right to sustain her by her hands alone, as it could be uncomfortable for both, and her dress might blow away in the wind.

So...?

Mario gives a little gasp and swallows when his brain comes up with the solution. Will he... be able to do it? Will she agree to let him do it? Oh, how he'd love to do it - he'd feel like the most fortunate man in the entire world! Of course, maybe it's too intimate, too... physical. And maybe she doesn't want him to...

Noticing that Peach has also started to let her eyes wander and is massaging her arm with some embarrassment, Mario makes up his mind. There’s only one way to resolve all the doubts swarming around his restless head.

He straightens up and smiles, resolved. Placing one arm across his stomach and the other behind his back, Mario begins to perform a bow that, he hopes, is befitting royalty.

“May I offer to take you back to the castle, princess?” he asks, hoping his voice sounds confident and gentle at the same time.

He hears a soft chuckle, amused and shy at the same time, which is music to his ears. He dares to raise his head and finds the young woman demurely covering her mouth with her hand. There’s no trace of mockery in her gestures or in her face, nor in her voice when she speaks.

“I would love to, my brave hero.”

Mario's jaw drops when she bends as well: she grabs the skirt of her dress with both hands as she genuflects briefly and bows her head. A warmth spreads through Mario's chest as he realizes that Peach has just played along and is more than happy to do so, but what his addled brain refuses to process is that she has just called him “my brave hero.”

“My hero.”

... “Her” hero? Him? A simple plumber from Brooklyn?

Before Mario has time to take it in, however, Peach does something that causes his heart to skip a beat and his mind to panic: after straightening up and smoothing down the skirt of her dress, the young woman approaches him without hesitation, stands beside him and places her arms around his neck, draping them over his red bandana. Her cheeks have reddened, but her expression is assured and firm.

Mario, on the other hand, feels that his brain has stopped working.

For a few seconds, he remains still, very stiff, with Peach's hands on his shoulders and her body very close to his. Mario's arms remain in tension, slightly separated from his body, his fingers contracted, as if he had suffered a spasm.

Until his eyes meet Peach's.

Her deep blue irises radiate sweetness. They radiate peace. They radiate trust.

Trust... in him.

Mario stands breathless, gazing at her as if he were in front of the most rapturous work of art he has ever seen. Although Peach's flush betrays her coyness, she holds his gaze tenderly, placidly, not turning away for a moment.

And Mario finds himself unable to stop sinking into those shiny blue eyes as if they enclosed the very ocean within them.

Before he can realize it, he finds himself giving her the widest, most ardent of smiles. He feels his face burning, and notices out of the corner of his eye how her blush increases, at which she puts a hand to her mouth to hide a new giggle, although her look continues without straying from his. Hypnotizing him. Trapping him. Spellbinding him.

When Peach takes her hand back to Mario's shoulder, he finally manages to react: with a little gasp, he lets out a nervous laugh and forces his arms to move at once. With some hesitation, he places one hand on the princess's slender waist and bends down to slip his other arm under her legs. He clutches her firmly, wanting to secure her in the same way he did his brother minutes before, and rises gradually so that she has time to get used to the fact that her dainty feet no longer touch the ground. Despite this, a soft cry of surprise escapes Peach's throat, which, however, soon turns into another chuckle.

Mario's concern at having rushed to his feet disappears as soon as that delightful sound reaches his ears. Relieved, he laughs too, ecstatic at Peach's proximity and relishing in the intimate moment he’s sharing with her. Never in his best dreams would he have dreamed of having the chance to carry the beautiful princess in such a chivalrous way, and yet there she is: clinging to his neck confidently and steadily as he holds her in his arms. She’s graceful and light as a feather, and smells like peaches, as if honoring her name, and Mario tells himself that he could carry her for the rest of his life and be thankful for it.

After spending a few seconds too long securing her in his arms, Mario finally decides to take flight. He sets his raccoon tail in motion and begins to soar, but, although he does so slowly, Peach can't help but gasp and squeeze against him a little, fearful of falling. Mario's heart flutters in his chest, but he tries his best to keep the limb moving so as not to scare her any further. Peach, embarrassed, turns her head away.

“I'm sorry,” she apologizes, bashful.

“No!” exclaims Mario, perhaps too quickly, “No, Princess, really, it's all right, I—I'm sorry, I should have been more careful...”

“Oh, no, don't worry,” replies Peach. “You are being very careful and... I appreciate it, Mario.”

She gives him a warm smile, just for him, and Mario feels like he could melt right there. He smiles at her too, enraptured, and is surprised when he sees her lower her head timidly.

“By the way,” she adds, not looking up, “you can call me Peach.”

Mario is so shocked that his grip on her body tightens unintentionally.

“Really?” he mumbles, incredulous.

“I'd love it,” she admits, turning her radiant gaze to him.

Mario watches her silently for a moment, barely aware that his tail is still lifting them into the air. Then, bit by bit, a smile blooms on his lips that, he hopes, will give Peach the same warmth that her sea-colored eyes exude.

“Okay,” he agrees, then adds with some hesitation, “Peach.”

He palates each letter on his tongue as if it were the delicious fruit they refer to when put together, and he likes, no, he loves, how good the beautiful princess's name sounds in his mouth. How good that short, precious word feels being born from his throat. Like it fills him up inside. As if it completed him.

Hearing it, her expression seems to light up, like a sparkling star in the darkest night, and her chest fills. Mario delights in that beautiful gesture, and in the laugh that the young woman emits next, joyful and uninhibited, without a trace of shyness. Everything in her beautiful visage radiates mirth, and Mario wonders if he’s the cause. Has he really managed to make her so happy with just a simple word?

Should he... repeat it?

“Peach,” he says again, more confident this time.

And she chuckles again, only this time she hugs him tighter, so that their faces are very near, their cheeks almost touching, and Mario feels like he's going to have a heart attack. He has to force his raccoon tail to keep going or else they’ll both plunge into the ground. Overwhelmed and painfully aware of the proximity of the young woman and her graceful, slender body in contact with his, he tries to focus on the flight and not on the intoxicating sensation that comes over him as he feels her so close. Her hair tickles his cheek, her peach and pineapple perfume floods his nose, and he feels as if her delicate hands, gracefully perched on his left shoulder, are already part of him.

He wonders if it will hurt when he has to part from her.

Luckily, the journey continues, and Peach keeps her eyes fixed on the horizon. In the distance, bathed in the rays of the setting sun, her castle, which Luigi and Toad must have reached by now, is beginning to come into view. Mario focuses on it to continue flying, although he can't stop his eyes from wandering over the magnificent landscape of the Mushroom Kingdom, full of tall trees with dense canopies and, also, the mushroom forest that welcomed him the first time he arrived in that new world.

A world that has become almost a second home to him.

As they move forward, he feels Peach taking a deep breath, clinging to him, and, as he gives her a quick sidelong gaze, Mario sees that she has closed her eyes to better revel in the sensation of being in the air. It's certainly a wonderful thing, something he still can't believe he can do. It would be totally unthinkable in Brooklyn, and yet in Peach and Toad's world, it’s quite normal.

Then, the princess pulls the same arm away again and extends it in the air as the other continues to be wrapped around his neck, her smile even more expansive and radiant if possible. She begins to wave her arm up and down, and laughter bursts from within her with the same force as waves crashing against the rocks.

And that vision, the beauty of her face, illuminated both by the golden light of the sunset and by the purest bliss, together with the crystalline sound of her gleeful laughter, causes Mario to giggle without realizing it, his heart swelling and warming in his chest, beating wildly at the thousand sensations that the mere presence of the princess makes him experience, increased by her happiness and her closeness. Without even realizing that he’s doing so, Mario once again takes her around her waist a little tighter, in an almost possessive way that he doesn't even know where it comes from, but that he’s unable to control.

And Peach, feeling the grip of his fingers, turns to him, still smiling, her arm still swaying gracefully in the wind. However, she stops it gradually, her eyes tangled in Mario's, who, not knowing how, finds himself once again caught by the intensity of the young woman's sapphire look. Their smiles, though wide and sincere, start to fade, and Mario almost gasps as he feels Peach's hand return to its place on his shoulder, her fingers lightly settling on his body.

Mario cannot blink. He doesn't know what the magic of the princess's glance is, but it exerts a captivating power over him that makes him never want to take his attention away from it.

And suddenly, he notices them closer.

Closer and closer, and they begin to narrow, and Mario gasps unreservedly this time. Is it really happening or is it just his impression? His heart is racing so fast that he feels like it's going to jump out of his chest at any moment, and his eyelids begin to droop as he feels Peach's breath intermingle with his own.

Before his eyes shut completely, however, they come alive and lower, just for an instant, to the princess's beautiful pink lips, which he finds so tempting and suggestive. They look so soft and full, and they’re getting nearer, yes, they’re actually approaching his, and Mario only manages to squeeze Peach's body against him out of instinct, to which she responds by tightening her grip around his neck.

And, at last, their lips meet.

At first, Mario stands still, paralyzed, hardly daring to breathe or move a single muscle. Is it really happening or is it just a dream? Are the princess's lips resting on his or is he experiencing the most vivid of his fantasies? Will it all burst like a bubble if he makes the slightest motion? How can he know...?

Then Peach, somewhat unsure, slowly moves her lips against his and Mario's heart begins to gallop in his chest at such a speed that he feels his pulse hammering in his temples. He feels like laughing and crying and shouting and dancing, all the while never taking the slightest step away from the woman he’s so madly and deeply in love with that he’s been unable to accept it to himself until he’s seen his most secret and hidden desire to kiss her fulfilled.

Yes: he’s in love with Peach and wants to shout it from the rooftops.

Avid, he hastens to reciprocate the princess and delights in the velvety touch of her lips on his. Peach's mouth is even more exquisite than he could have imagined, and tastier, and more intoxicating, and Mario moves smoothly against her to savor her better, fascinated by her softness and by the sweetness that invades him and threatens to drive him completely mad.

He pulls her a little tighter when he feels the woman's delicate fingers softly place themselves on his cheek, cradling his face with devotion. Mario is unable to contain the moan that escapes his throat and feels Peach smile against his mouth at the sound. The princess then half-opens her lips in a mute invitation, and Mario, with a certain shyness, begins to explore the interior haltingly, carefully, not wanting to overstep even though he’s dying to devour her. This time it is Peach who moans at his gentleness and presses her fingers on the back of his neck to push him against her, which makes Mario moan again. He doesn’t vacillate to deepen the kiss, and unhesitatingly opens his mouth so that, this time, it is he who offers himself to her. Peach, not holding back, yields to his incitement and proceeds gently, with relish, but also with tenderness, wanting, like him, to revel in his taste.

The delicacy with which she acts and the sweetness that permeates his tongue threaten to cause Mario to faint mid-flight.

To say he’s happy would be an understatement. He’s ecstatic, exhilarated, elated, on cloud nine, he feels like the most fortunate man in the world and believes, knows, that if he were to explode from sheer joy and die at that very moment, he’d do so while being the happiest person in all universes.

After one last exchange, the two separate unhurriedly, reluctantly. Mario would like to continue kissing her for the rest of his life, if possible, but he wouldn’t change the knowing expression, full of tenderness and passion, that the woman gives him. They both pant, and Mario is convinced that the princess's heart beats as fast as his own. Her face, flushed and aflame, is like a vision for him, a vision he could never tire of contemplating. He doesn't realize he’s begun to smile until she does too, and they giggle in unison, feeling connected at the wondrous, almost divine experience they’ve just had together.

A sudden gust of air makes both Peach's dress skirt and her beautiful, abundant blonde hair flutter, and catches them so unexpectedly that Mario risks being thrown off balance. A small cry of surprise escapes him as he instinctively clutches the princess more tightly, and his heart stops briefly as he realizes that she’s done exactly the same thing, her fingers sinking into his bandana and the fur of his shoulder more tightly. They stare at each other for a second, blushing, and laugh again at the same time, in a mutual understanding that fills Mario's heart with warmth.

His eyes drift for a moment to the princess's castle, already closer, but also... lower? Mario gives a small gasp as he turns to the majestic building again, and Peach mimics him as she notices his bewilderment. They both seem to realize at the same time that, not quite knowing how it happened, they’re now higher, as if their goal was to touch the few clouds scattered across the sky, which are now just a few meters above their heads. The setting sun is so low at their feet that Mario and Peach might seem larger in size.

Mario feels his whole head burning violently as soon as he realizes that the kiss of the beautiful princess has so enchanted and enraptured him that it’s lifted him, without him even realizing it, far above the forest from which they’ve emerged. Embarrassed, he lets out a low giggle, unable to look Peach in the eyes, and begins to descend. He can't stop cursing himself - does his infatuation have to be so obvious?

Fortunately, Peach chuckles too, and she doesn't do it mockingly. Her voice sounds jovial and her visage gleams, amused, when Mario dares to observe her again. She brings her gloved hand to her mouth, her gaze fixed on his, and, to his surprise, she lays her fingers on his cheek before pressing her lips to his one last time. It’s a quick and fleeting graze, but full of as much affection and tenderness as the passionate kiss they shared minutes before, and it’s more than enough to make Mario's heart race again and to make his face, without his permission, bloom a rapture so evident that it makes the princess giggle again.

Then Peach, while still wrapping her graceful arms around Mario's neck, rests her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes, releasing a soft sigh at the softness and warmth of his Tanooki suit. Mario's eyes widen almost wildly, and he feels himself melting completely inside. If he still had any doubts about whether or not he was the luckiest man in the world, this is his confirmation: his beloved princess feels comfortable and safe enough with him to lean against his body and relax, proof that she trusts her “hero” blindly. Mario smiles helplessly - is it possible to burst with happiness?

The gentle evening breeze accompanies them and plays with the young girl's dress and long hair, until they finally reach the castle gardens. Mario immediately spots Toad and Luigi, who seem to be scanning the skies with a restless expression on their faces. Mario wouldn't trade the intense minutes he just spent with Peach for anything in the world (was it just a few minutes? Really?), but he can't help but curse himself once more for worrying his dear brother and his best friend. Both of their faces light up, however, as soon as they catch a glimpse of them, and Peach starts waving her arm at them, laughing gleefully.

Mario's feet land in the gardens before Luigi and Toad reach them. Mario crouches down so that Peach can also step on the ground, and, as he straightens up, he notices the knowing, and somewhat mischievous, glance exchanged between his brother and his friend. Mario's eyes narrow in suspicion. What are they up to?

The princess, however, demands his full attention, for, as he soon realizes, they’re about to separate after having kissed for the first time - on high, no less! Will something change between them now? Mario doesn't know if he wants it to be that way or if he wants them to continue as they’ve always been, but what he does know is that, as he suspected, he feels an almost physical pain at the thought of being away from Peach. When he looks at her again, he reads in her deep blue eyes that she feels as reluctant as he does to leave his side. Mario's hand still lingers on her waist, and Peach, extremely slowly, slides her hand down from his shoulder as she also begins to remove the arm she had around his neck.

Watching her, Mario feels clumsy. Inelegant. Unworthy, even. He feels that his smile is barely a crooked grimace that betrays the bundle of nerves he has become. He feels that his face is a burning flame that will cause his whole body to catch fire at any moment. He feels those beautiful sapphire eyes pierce him with intensity and sweetness and... desire? Is that desire or is it nothing more than his heated imagination?

Suddenly, to his surprise, Peach begins to lean towards him, and Mario's heart skips a beat as he thinks she's going to kiss him again. And, yes, indeed, Peach does kiss him, but not on the lips this time, but on his fiery red cheek. Peach's mouth presses delicately on Mario's skin and lingers there for a few seconds too long, prolonging the gesture, something Mario certainly won't complain about. He doesn't realize that he’s closed his eyes until she finally pulls away, and he opens them and can only gaze at her with rapture and tenderness when she gives him a warm, sweet smile.

Unhurriedly, as if she didn’t want their eyes to lose contact, the princess starts to turn around to make her way back to her castle. Mario doesn’t lose sight of her for a moment while she, as graceful and elegant as ever, moves to where Luigi and Toad are, and, after patting Toad’s head affectionately, she grabs the skirt of her dress to bow to Luigi, who, surprised, hastens to return her gesture a bit awkwardly. Peach smiles warmly at them before resuming her walk, and, after taking a few steps away, she turns and fixes her attention on him directly.

Mario jumps back, caught off guard, making Peach giggle. Embarrassed, he copies her, unsure, and barely manages to return her greeting when she waves her hand in his direction. He doesn’t notice that his other hand, having fallen from the princess's slender waist, now hangs limp at the side of his body, nor the loud sigh that rises from deep inside him.

He only has eyes for the beautiful and delicate silhouette of the young woman walking away through the gardens, her blonde hair shining even more in the light of the sunset.

Until something, all of a sudden, intervenes in his vision.

Mario blinks, trying to return to reality, and meets Luigi's enthused and excited glance, accompanied, a little further down, by Toad's, equally or even more eager. Mario unintentionally recoils a little, but he can't help but be amused by the questioning and curious expressions of both of them, especially by the way they clench their fists under their faces. Their blue and black eyes sparkle with expectation.

“Have you kissed?” Luigi asks bluntly, his tone of voice a little sharper than usual due to the excitement. Toad nods frantically, his smile widening even more.

Mario reddens violently and steps back again out of instinct. His first impulse is to deny it, to pretend that his brother and his friend are imagining it all. Him, kissing the princess? The beautiful, ravishing young woman he has inadvertently and hopelessly fallen in love with? How can they think that?

Yet he’s so happy that he’s floating on a cloud. He feels so blissful and lucky that he wonders... what would be wrong with admitting his feelings? Why should he get defensive? What good would it do him? Besides, what the hell, this is his little brother, the person he loves most in all worlds, and his new and enthusiastic best friend. What reason would he have to hide anything from them? In fact, who else is he going to share his happiness with if not them?

So, relaxing his shoulders, Mario slowly draws a smile from ear to ear and, despite knowing he's still blushing, nods just once.

That's more than enough: Luigi throws his arms to the sky as a piercing squeal of excitement rises from his throat, and Toad starts clapping and shouting, just as happy. Mario is a little astonished at such enthusiasm, but laughs, touched by their mirth. Luigi then throws his arms around Mario’s neck and starts jumping up and down while hugging him with all his might, causing Mario, infected by his rapture, to also end up jumping up and down while embracing his adored brother.

“Finally!” Luigi squeals, maybe even merrier than Mario himself, “I knew it! I knew it would happen! I knew it!” He shouts again, thrilled, and Mario is unable to contain the cackle that bursts from inside him. “You don't know how happy I am for you, Mario! You deserve it!”

Luigi presses his cheek against his and Mario shuts his right eye, although his left one is directed towards his brother. His heart beats so intensely, so warmly, that he thinks it could burst out of his chest and it’d be on fire, overwhelmed not only by his first kiss with Peach, but by the clear affection in his brother's reaction to know that, at last, Mario and the princess have taken the step they’ve postponed for so long. An infinite tenderness has begun to flood him and spread to every corner of his body, born from Luigi's sincere elation for him, and he lets himself be cuddled by his little brother while he holds him close, happier, more grateful and blessed every day for having him by his side since before he was born.

Little by little, Luigi stops jumping to give himself completely to the embrace, squishing Mario with energy and vigor and giggling with emotion. Their faces, peeking out from their Tanooki and Kitsune costumes, press against each other's, their cheeks still squashed, but their smiles wider and more radiant than ever.

The sudden touch of tiny arms closing around his legs causes Mario's eyes to widen with a gasp, but the corners of his mouth rise again as soon as he realizes it's Toad, who is hugging him to join in his bliss as well. Laughing warmly, Mario reaches down with one arm to pat the mushroom man’s head, also feeling very grateful that he’s there with him, and squeezes his twin tightly with his free arm. Luigi, not letting go for a second, embraces him tighter, his face still scrunched against Mario's, who laughs in delight.

His brother hugging him with all his love and glee, his friend showing him his support, a delicious and deep kiss shared with the beautiful princess he’s so madly in love with...

What more could he ask for?