#First time writing about body dysmoprhia

[pinkcreamypeach]

A glimpse of my princess peach redesign ❤️ 🩷

+

Story if you wanna read lol.

“I wouldn't change a thing about you.”

(Peach x Mario)<-- Mario centered

TW- Body dysmorphia (Making Mario having my problems too😈)

@keylovesstuff @bberetd @peaches2217 @supergay-64

“…Principessa…?” Mario murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as Princess Peach guided him along the winding path of the mushroom forest.

Towering mushroom trees stretched high into the sky, their thick trunks rising like ancient sentinels draped in a breathtaking palette of warm hues deep reddish ambers, soft pinkish oranges, and golden yellows. Their massive caps, speckled with whimsical spots, were adorned with tufts of cloudy moss that clung to them like nature’s own delicate embroidery. Above them, the sky was wrapped in a gentle veil of cloud-like wisps, their soft embrace diffusing the sun’s golden glow. A flock of tiny birds flitted through the air, startled by the distant laughter of Toads who dashed merrily through the sun-dappled forest, their carefree joy blending seamlessly with the tranquil beauty of the scene.

Peach walked beside him, radiant in her rococo-inspired gown, a vision of elegance in soft pink silk. The dress cascaded in delicate folds, adorned with dainty bows at its hem, each ribbon catching the light with the subtlest shimmer. Her lips, painted in a perfect shade of heart-shaped pink, curved into a serene smile, while her sapphire earrings tinged with just the faintest touch of rose swayed gently with every graceful step.

In her hand, she carried an exquisite lace parasol, its intricate design a masterpiece of craftsmanship. Made from the finest ivory satin, it exuded an air of regal sophistication, the fabric’s luxurious sheen complementing the ornate floral lace that traced its edges like a whispered promise of romance. A polished metallic handle gleamed beneath her delicate grasp, its smooth surface cool against her gloved fingers. The parasol’s weightless frame allowed her to twirl it effortlessly, casting a soft shade over her as she hummed a quiet melody.

Mario felt her fingers entwine with his her dainty, gloved hands, silk-soft and gentle, mingling with his own, roughened by years of work. Her touch was light, almost featherlike against the calloused leather of his palms. The contrast was stark yet harmonious, their hands intertwined like two mismatched puzzle pieces that, against all odds, fit perfectly together.And as they strolled through the forest, bathed in golden light and the laughter of the wind through the leaves, Mario couldn’t help but wonder if this was real? Could someone as graceful, as ethereal as her truly hold his hand so effortlessly?

Her dainty, round fingers intertwined with his rough, bulky ones. Her soft, silky opera gloves met the worn, weathered texture of his leather palms, a contrast so stark it made his stomach tighten.Peach’s delicate face was partly obscured by the shade of her parasol, but the moment she smiled. His heart pounded as he looked at her… then at himself.

His overalls stained, frayed at the edges, the burn marks on the pockets standing out like scars. His boots, scuffed and old, gave him a slight lift, but next to Peach, he still felt unbearably small. Too short. Too broad. Too… wrong.

He always knew he wasn’t conventionally attractive. His nose too big. His arms too thick. His stomach no matter how much weight he lost, it never looked right. Spike had the kind of presence Mario never could. Tall. Intimidating. Assured. And Mario? He had tried. He had tried so hard.Diets. Exercise. Even considered surgery anything to fix what was broken, to smooth out the ugliness he was certain others saw.

Luigi did what he could, reassured him when the thoughts got too loud, but it never lasted. No matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, the truth was clear. His body was something to be tolerated, not loved.And as he stood there, hands clammy, heart sinking, he realized something bitter..Peach would never see him the way he saw her. No one would. Not when he looked like this.

Mario's eyes fluttered as Peach suddenly stopped him, her grip tightening around his hand. He barely had time to process before she leaned down, her presence closer, more immediate.

His breath hitched.

Her parasol, now closed, rested elegantly over her arm, but her focus was entirely on him. Her soft lips curled into a gentle frown, her brows knitting together in quiet concern. Her sapphire eyes, always so bright, searched his face with the kind of tenderness that made him feel both seen and unbearably exposed.

“…Mario,” she murmured, tilting her head. “Why do you look so sad?”

He swallowed. Of course, she would notice. She always did. No matter how much he tried to bury it, hide it behind laughter and bravado, Peach could read him like an open book.It would be best… to be honest.

He lowered his gaze, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over the delicate curve of her knuckles. If he had been paying attention, he might have noticed the way her cheeks flushed at the touch. Instead, his voice came quiet, hesitant.

“Principessa…” He hesitated, then looked up at her, searching for some reassurance, maybe. “…If you could change any part of me… what would it be?”

.

Peach blinked, her expression unreadable for just a moment. Then, without hesitation, she closed the distance between them, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead.Mario’s eyes widened.

When she pulled back, her smile was warm, unwavering. “Nothing,” she whispered, her voice laced with certainty. “I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

For a second, Mario just stared, as if his mind couldn’t quite catch up with his heart. Then, warmth bloomed in his chest, spreading through his limbs until he couldn't contain it. His laughter bubbled up, loud and unrestrained, a joyful snort escaping before he could stop it.

Peach giggled at his reaction, her fingers still laced with his as she pulled him closer. She rested her chin atop his head, nuzzling into his hair with a contented hum. Mario barely had time to register the softness enveloping him, his face gently squished against the plush warmth of her chest. His heart stuttered, and for once, it wasn’t out of insecurity just… comfort.

His eyes fluttered shut as Peach released his hands, her fingers slipping into his hair, massaging slow, soothing circles. Without thinking, he let his own hands drift to her back, tracing lazy, affectionate patterns over the fabric of her gown.

They sighed together one slow, deep breath in… and out…

For the first time in a long while, Mario didn’t feel small. He didn’t feel like he had to be anything more than what he already was.

Because in Peach’s arms, he was enough. Just as he was.