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ilys00ga · 9 months ago

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𝐓𝐈𝐙𝐈𝐑𝐈 (2/2)

Tiziri (n): often used as a feminine name within some North African communities, tiziri is an Amazigh word that means 'moon' or 'moonlight'. It reflects and symbolizes the tranquility, serenity, and beauty associated with the moon. (proud amazigh moment)

: ̗̀➛ pair: yoongi x f reader/oc

: ̗̀➛ tags: supernatural/superpowers, sorcerer!yoongi, belly dancer!reader/oc, private entertainment worker!reader/oc, arabian/middle eastern older eras settings, use of weapons (rifles and daggers), time traveling, no smut.

: ̗̀➛ synopsis: In a world of simplicity and ordinary, Yoongi was only a teenage boy stuck in a turmoil of his indentity and purpose in life when he embarked on a long, tough journey of endless obstacles and ignorance. For years, he traveled the world and crossed paths with all kinds of humans and characters, all kinds of situations and dangers. He worked on honing his powers and bringing honor to his kind, despite, and despite, and despite. However, nothing could ever compare to a certain set of eyes. Not that he would ever believe that himself, anyway.

OR: when a powerful sorcerer falls to his knees in front of a belly dancer’s eyes.

: ̗̀➛ A/N: it's here!!!!!! finally. as I said before, there will be a "sequel" to this, so don't worry, it's not the end 😆 anyway, I hope u like it! stay tuned for more lolol. also, PLEASE interact with the post, I have no idea why the first part got such low reaches, and I don't really mind tbh, but I really like this fic and I worked hard on it 😕 so rb, and all that. and ofc, ur feedback is always welcomed and appreciated! have fun <33

: ̗̀➛ warning: this piece of fiction does not represent any community or ethnicity or group of people. I was inspired by the arab/middle eastern culture (as a semi arab myself), but it's all a product of my imagination. I hope this point is clear.

- unrevised, ignore the mistakes tyvm 🙏

★ MASTERLIST.

★ CHAPTER INDEX.

Deeper into the night, the moon was hanging high in the dark night sky. A full round disc shining down on the noiseless alley of the big, old village. The only faint sound that could be heard was that of crickets singing their nocturnal songs somewhere in the distance.

For a good, long moment, Yoongi stared at the dagger that woman was holding in her hand. Long blade and sharp point dangerously close to his waist.

The air between them carried a new tension. He lifted his gaze and met her cold one. Her teeth gritted in what could only be pain as she continued putting pressure onto her injured shoulder. Her figure was slightly slumped, soft pants still leaving her mouth, but her brown eye held a seriousness he found intriguing. He wondered where she’d been hiding the object all this time—or more accurately, where she'd get all of that stamina from after running in that state.

“One wrong move and I'll bury it in your chest.” She started, confidence unwavering in her tone.

Yoongi chose silence, debating whether he should make the pointed object slip out of her hold or make the effort of taking it out himself.

“Answer my question, I know them objects did not move on their own.” She added. “Talk.”

After a long moment of careful observation, Yoongi finally spoke, his voice calm yet strict and rigid. “Put that down.”

She parted her lips, ready to spill something in return to his command, when he quickly pinched the air with his thumb and index finger, sealing her lips shut together. He ignored her startled expression and listened attentively to the rushing footsteps approaching their corner, not forgetting to throw a warning glare at her.

The area they were in was still and quiet. The clear sound was growing closer and closer. He carefully stepped back, pushing her further into the small spaced nook they were hiding in.

A few more intense seconds passed, and three figures sprinted right past them, completely unaware of their presence. Yoongi could tell from their attire that they belonged to the same group that was chasing after them minutes ago.

They stayed like that for a little while, until an eerie silence took over the alley again. He slapped the dagger out of her hand with ease and spoke, “There's no time for this. We need to move.”

He stepped out of the alcove, eyes scanning the area warily, when he noticed her odd silence. “Oh right.”

Her hand flew to her mouth once he snapped his fingers and unsealed it again. “Goodness! I knew it!!”

Yoongi ignored her exclaim and turned to glare at her again, his voice low and empty of debate. “Start walking or stay here, I don’t care. I’ve already done enough.”

Not waiting for a response, he took one of the many bends and turns in the street, blindly making his way through the streets.

“Stop!” She shouted. Yoongi lifted his hand up, inching his thumb and pointer finger slightly closer to one another and making her lips twitch as a result. A quiet, wordless warning from him.

He didn't stop, walking towards another turn in the many options of alleyways the village presented before him.

“Foreigner, you're heading towards the local market again.” She tried again, her voice a little harsh this time, annoyed.

Yoongi stopped at that, slowly turning around to face her with a blank face. She eyed him for a brief moment, her shawl hanging around her shoulders, one side was soaked with blood. Then, she sighed again. “That man who was chasing after me was a high ranking one, somewhere close to the Sultan himself. He saw you with me, there’s no way you can get away now.”

A deep frown appeared on Yoongi’s face as he listened carefully. She continued talking: “I know a place nearby, come.”

“It’s still dangerous out there. This…inn is all we have in this area.” She said, before making her way into it. Yoongi kept a watchful eye on his surroundings as he followed her inside.

They stood in front of a desk. The man sitting there was smoking. He looked like he wanted to be smoking a hookah at a local coffee shop while reading a daily magazine instead of sitting there.

His brows rose up as he observed Yoongi first, then at the woman beside him and her injured shoulder. Back and forth, until his gaze settled on the sorcerer.

Yoongi cleared his throat. "Two rooms.”

A brow lift was what he got in return. “Two? We only give one room service.”

“Just give us the keys.” The woman intervened.

The worker looked like he wanted to say something as he eyed her up with a faint smirk, but he remained silent and tossed a key on the desk in front of them.

She picked it up and began walking towards the room they were granted.

Yoongi wasn’t sure what he was expecting for an inn to look like in that village, but something told him it wasn’t something that looked like the one they were in—or at least not usually.

There were only two floors in the building. It was easy to conclude the small space of each room from the number of doors in each level, just like the one they’d ended up in. It didn’t have much in it, simply a king size bed and a small bedside table. a small round rug beside the bed, and a small window that affords a view of the street outside. After further inspection, Yoongi found a small bathroom too.

She sat down on the bed with a hiss. Her face was a little paler than it was moments ago, and the hand of her injured shoulder was trembling slightly, but her face held onto a serious expression nonetheless as she studied him carefully.

He could feel the question sipping out of her mouth before she even moved it to speak. But then, a series of muffled noises came from one of the other rooms, or maybe more than one, it was hard to tell. He could tell they were a mix of groans and whimpers, even some creaking noises could be heard here and there.

It wasn’t hard for him to put two and two together to figure out what type of place he ended up in that night, and a strong urge to palm his face and sigh almost overwhelmed him, but he fought against it and kept his face emotionless.

She was the one to break their tense staring battle. A faint blush—so faint he could’ve easily missed it under the dim light of the candles scattered in the room—appeared on the apple of her cheeks for a brief moment.

He watched as she sighed, loaded with heaviness and tiredness, before she spoke, “this is the only place we can afford to stay in this area of the village.”

A pause took place between them after that. Their silence was louder than the muffled noises that lingered longer than Yoongi was comfortable with, though he didn’t show any sign of that, as per usual.

He cleared his throat, seeking to brush the weird surge of emotions that settled in his core all of a sudden, then said: “Let me see your injury.”

Her head snapped up to meet his stubbornly blank stare. “What? No, it’s alright.”

“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you to do so.”

When she didn’t provide an answer, he continued to speak: “I can cure it. Let me see.”

She breathed in, let it stay in her lungs for a second, then let it out with a scoff. “Fine then. Just be quick.”

Without further ado, Yoongi stepped closer to the bed. He stood at the edge, putting a small distance between them as she removed her shawl, uncovering her wound. Though he did not show any signs of it, he did feel relieved when he saw that it was nothing but a semi thin slice across her shoulder. He could tell the sharp object digged decently enough for it to leave a painful sting behind, and he wondered how she still managed to bear it all that time.

After eyeing the injury up, he asked, “How did this happen?”

“The bastard stabbed me.” Noticing his questioning look, she added, “that man you saw holding a gun earlier, he was going to stab me in the chest, but I moved just in time and this happened.”

He wordlessly reached for a pouch he had hung at his waist, taking out a small piece of cloth that had enigmatic words and symbols all over it, then a tiny jar filled with an unusual purple liquid.

After putting the pouch back on his hip, Yoongi grabbed the fabric of the sleeve around the injury and tore it open. Her eyes blew open at that, a frown appearing between her brows.

“Relax. It needs treatment.” He said, voice surprisingly soft.

The persistent noises coming from the other rooms did a wonderful job at making the situation less at ease than it should’ve been, but she pressed her lips in a thin line and let him clean the blood around the cut with a wet towel he'd grabbed from the bathroom.

After cleaning the area as best as he could, Yoongi took the cloth and put it atop the injury, covering it entirely. A soft, barely audible gasp escaped her lips when it latched onto her skin almost immediately, as if it had a life of its own.

“It feels weird.” She said.

Yoongii allowed his finger to brush the skin around the cloth when he noticed her confusion. He wasn’t sure why he did that, but his touch was so soft, it left goosebumps in its wake. “Drink this.” He gave her the tiny jar with his free hand, then moved to lean against the wall, eyes fixed on her figure.

The way she was eyeing it up in her hand, a mix of fascination and cynicism all over her face, did not go unnoticed by him. “It’s a medicine. A potion if you will. It will help recover your energy in a few seconds.”

After hearing his words, she glanced up at him. Her face was inscrutable, her brown eye roamed his own face, searching for something in its curves and sharp edges. “Are you a witch? A magician, perhaps?”

One of Yoongi’s brows arched up at her guesses. It’s in his blood, a sorcerer's biggest displeasure is being referred to as such lower ranking species. He pushed a light breath out of his lungs, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. His little confession came out with some irritation in his tone. “I am a sorcerer, not a witch. And definitely not a magician.”

“Same thing..” She gave a small roll of her eyes, then drinked—in his words—the potion in one go. Her face scrunching up as soon as the bitter taste of it hit her buds.

“Why didn’t you just say so when I asked?” She asked.

“Humans are not to be trusted,” he answered matter-of-factly.

Her brows jumped up at his words. “So you trust me now?”

‘No.’ His response came almost immediately.

A silent beat followed that small conversation. The noises no longer lingered in the air, Yoongi was thankful for that. He proceeded to speak again. “Are you not afraid?”

“Afraid?” She scoffed. “Please– I meet all kinds of males on a daily basis.”

He arched a brow. The more he talked to her, the more intrigued and taken aback her twists and turns made him feel. A combination he wasn't a stranger to, but it all seemed different right there and then, for some reason.

“I knew you were an interesting one the moment I saw you back there.” She continued to say.

Yoongi studied her more. There was a smile that looked way too sly for his own liking stretching on her lips the more she talked. “Oh, right. You don't recognize me. Let me show you something.”

He watched as she began removing her eye patch with her uninjured arm. The same eye patch he'd been finding himself curious about the more he'd glanced at it.

For the very first time since she'd bumped into him in that alleyway, both of her eyes traveled up to meet his own. As soon as he caught the sight of that ice blue orb again, his breath hitched, and he was pulled back to that lounge room. In front of that group of dancers, in front of her.

Min Yoongi—as the powerful sorcerer with years and years of training and experience—found himself stuck in his spot in front of that pair eyes again.

How couldn't he notice before? Why can't he figure out how to breathe properly? Why was his body moving on his own?

For these questions, he could not think of an answer. And all of a sudden, he found himself crouching right at her legs, staring deeply into her eyes. His body continued moving forward, all on its own.

Maybe it was just his eyes playing games with him, or maybe he'd lost all sense of logic the moment their eyes met, but he could see that ice blue orb of hers glowing in his face. He could feal the dust of its light, little tiny drops of glitter floating and falling on his cheek.

The distance between them got thicker by the ticking seconds. He could feel her warm breath caressing the skin of his face, could feel the warmth radiating off of her entire body from up close.

Her lips were close to his. So, so close. They lingered in the distance, barely a breath apart from his, but he didn't move. He froze up in his place and didn’t chase that warmth, finding himself putting a lot of effort into rejecting the weird grasp that refused to let him go. So much more effort than he should.

Sensing his resistance, she leaned forward, seeking that electric, fierce closure between them. To feel the softness of his skin touching hers. She was met with his finger pressed against her mouth with a gentle push, his eyes bore into hers with a new coldness in them.

For a brief moment, she looked taken aback, before switching to a confident smirk.

“A man with a strong control of self is a fine man.” She whispered, voice hushed and sultry.

One of his fingers traveled up to caress the skin under that special orb of hers, his touch soft and tender, unlike his intense gaze. Something about it kept playing with the strings of his restraint really hard. The more he looked, the harder it pulled. He did not like that.

Noise broke out down the corridor, pulling him out of the mayhem of his own desires and thoughts. He quickly flinched away from her, sucking a deep, silent breath in and bringing himself back on earth.

He felt confused, like he’d just woken up from a long, hot summer afternoon nap. His heart was beating fast in his chest. He did not like that, did not like whatever was happening to him, whatever was behind his state.

“What’s that noise?” She asked, her smirk lingered a little longer as she watched his mystified appearance, before turning into an alerted sharpness as she looked towards the door.

Once he got a stricter grip on his surroundings, Yoongi stood up and pressed his palm flat against the door, sensing the area outside.

Silence stretched inside the four walls they were in. The only noise palpable in the air was that of the chaos creeping closer and closer towards their room. The sound of shouting and struggling coming from different people at once.

Yoongi didn't move an inch, devoting his senses into analyzing the situation behind that door. That was until he suddenly jumped back from his spot, and the door flew wide open.

Two masked men burst inside, pointing long rifles in their faces. One of them, the taller one who fixed them with a piercing stare, moved with an impressive speed and targeted Yoongi with his weapon, delivering hit after another using its butt.

Yoongi muttered a curse under his breath as soon as his back hit the floor. A curse for both his beater and the universe for feeding too much superpower into his being, neglecting a very important element in the process: his physical abilities.

Sure he was a good fighter, he could punch and kick hard to save his life, but his body of an excellent sorcerer had its own limits.

On her end, the belly dancer rushed to put her dagger to good use, a new found energy bursting through her limbs now that her shoulder was healed.

She rushed to the other masked man, dodging a bullet and stabbing him right in the stomach. A pained shout left him bent down, clutching onto his wounded abdomen.

As he saw his companion getting attacked, the one who put a firm, almost deadly pressure onto Yoongi's neck as he stepped on it raised his rifle towards her, ready to fire. But Yoongi growled, unclasping one of his hands that were wrapped around the leg abusing him to raise it in the air.

Within a second, the rifle flew right out of the man's arms, making him gasp. Yoongi was quick to take his chance and pull his leg hard, pushing his body up and letting him fall in the space behind him. He then quickly reached out to grab the woman's arm and drag her out of the room, towards the stairs that lead to the floors underneath them.

Just when they made it to the first few steps, a loud, booming sound echoed in the entire building.

Yoongi felt her arm slip from his grasp, falling to the ground. And when he looked back, his heart sank. She laid there, limpless on the head of the staircase.

The sound of their chaser's feet hitting the ground of the corridors grew louder. Yoongi ducked away just in time, avoiding another bullet targeting him.

His heart thumped in his chest. His legs moved on their own as he carried himself up and continued making his way down the stairs.

Bringing his wrist up to his lips, he started muttering incoherent, barely audible words into the chain that wrapped around it at a full speed. Its pendant flickered with a bright light, glowing as he chanted more words onto it.

Light burst in the entire floor, swallowing him and his surroundings whole, like a deadly, angry ocean wave.

Yoongi closed his eyes shut, then everything around him fell silent. The sound of his own pulse and ragged breathing dissolving into the light.

#yoongi angst #yoongi #bts #bts yoongi #yoongi scenarios #yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #yoongi drabble #bts scenarios #yoongi icons #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #bts suga #bts fic #bts fanfic #ilys00ga

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 5 months ago

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Hi! Can you do EraserMic fam with the reader being their new addition to the family. The reader in question is a preteen and you can decide if they want to be an inventor or hero. Please 🙏

-You were a bit unsure, holding the strap of your duffle bag tightly, at your new home. You had been in an out of homes for years, as nobody wanted to deal with you for one reason or another, but this new family, one that had two dads, an adopted daughter, and a ‘part-time’ adopted son who came to spend the night a lot, felt different, if you had to describe the feeling.

-The two dads were both pro-heroes, Eraserhead and Present Mic, as well as both being teachers at UA, which was your dream school, but you still had to get through another two years of middle school, much to your annoyance.

-You were one of the few ��blessed’ by fate by not having a quirk, but you didn’t let it bother you, as you were breathtakingly intelligent, able to calculate difficult equations as fast as a computer, and you had what many described as a ‘sponge-like’ brain, as you were able to retain knowledge on an almost quirk-like level.

-That’s why many families gave up on you, your intelligence and desire to invent things, mostly tools that could help heroes, and things like people like you, quirkless people, could use. Some gave up on you for a shallower reason, because you didn’t have a quirk.

-It wasn’t completely your fault that you had caused a couple of fires when you hadn’t been paying attention when welding, setting paper and curtains on fire, but your ex-foster families weren’t willing to take care of someone who was so careless.

-That’s when you found this family, or rather your caseworker introduced them to you after telling you that you had been adopted, not just being fostered.

-You were hesitant to believe this, distrust on your face that they were going to be just like all your other families and would return you, something Aizawa could see, but he was extremely patient with you, willing to let you invent, not holding you back in the slightest.

-The only time he would discipline you, by wrapping you in his capture weapon, was when he found that you stayed up all night, telling you to go to bed.

-Mic was a bit more… affectionate, hugging you, greeting you warmly, treating you like a member of their family- just being so accepting that it honestly felt annoying, like you were irritated with him and his acceptance.

-Shinso was your ‘big brother’ and when you learned he was a student at UA you had all but tackled him down, your eyes sparkling as you rattled off question after question, wanting to know everything!!

-He was a bit put off by your enthusiasm about UA, but seeing you desire to learn was admirable and he would sit with you when you were working on or testing an invention, seeing what you were working on and he would praise you on your ideas, giving you good feedback even if your inventions didn’t always work.

-Eri was a big adjustment to you, as she was a little shy with you at first, until you brought her out of her shell, asking if she wanted to experiment with you and you actually enjoyed teaching, or at least trying to teach her, about your different inventions.

-That’s when she started to cling to you, finding you safe, something Aizawa mentioned, as she would follow you around like a duckling and get sad when you had to go to school, watching for you out the window, hoping you would be back soon.

-This was an odd family, but you slowly felt yourself becoming more and more comfortable, actually looking forward to coming home now. The day you called him Dadzawa instead of his name was when you knew you were home, as you couldn’t stop blushing while Mic was dying on the floor from laughing so hard and Aizawa’s eyelid was twitching, surprised that you called him that.

#my hero academia #aizawa shouta #present mic #eri #hitoshi shinsou

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urprettylildoe · 1 month ago

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Hi! Hello! I'm new to your blog and I just wanted to say I LOVE your writing 🫶🫶🫶 especially your Popular boy yandere story 😩🥴❤️. I have TWO question to ask if you don't mind with ONE is: how do you do that? Like how do you write? I wanted to write story or anything like that on my own but I don't know how to do it! Can you maybe give me any tips or such? And for question number TWO is.. well it's more like a request? Can you maybe.. make Popular yandere boy even MORE pathetic? 😩

I hope this isn't much to ask you & I am sorry if I say something wrong in my question or such 🙏. Have a good day👋😊

-ANON-

AWWWW nonnie this was such a sweet ask <3 ty i'm glad i'm feeding you well with my stories

For your question, you're asking me about writing tips, okay!

write for yourself! it should be fun — if you force yourself to write, you'll just burn out and it'll definitely show in your story.

Read. I know you've seen this tip literally EVERYWHERE but it's important. This way you're exposed to different styles to improve your own.

Practice, because practice makes perfect. I promise, you'll notice the change when you're consistent with it. It doesn't have to be a 2k fic, even small drabbles and pieces are fine. You don't even need to post them, writing for yourself is good too.

Edit! it's okay to have some mistakes here and there, but with that being said, lots of typos and errors drive the reader away. Don't underestimate the amount of mistakes you'll find.

Show, don't tell. I live by this guys, seriously This will immerse your readers and have a much bigger effect on them. Don't tell me she was scared; tell me about how her heart was pounding, hands trembling as she failed to speak. You can be much creative than what i just stated, but MY POINT IS, your readers aren't dumb and basic writing will make your readers bored easily.

Experiment and develop your style: don't be afraid to try out new things and see what works best for you, which is also tied to my second point about reading because that's where you'll find different styles. I'm still in the process of developing mine as well.

You can ask for feedback from your audience or different writers, so don't be afraid to reach out (even to me!). If not for criticism, then for the sake of just sharing your work with others.

For your second question, i'm surprised a lot of you liked the popular boy yandere lol i never know which post is goin to blow up. As for your request, i'll definitely consider expanding on the drabble.

Feel free to ask me anything else, and dw there was NOTHING wrong in your question and it wasn't too much at all

#writing advice #Writing tips #Writblr

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therealslimshakespeare · 1 year ago

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my dearest darlingest marina i need you to know you have broken me quite thoroughly and i might never ever forgive you for it as long as we both shall live ! ❣️

to clarify- ive been saving "let's fall out of love" to read later ever since you posted it cuz i didn't feel ready- didn't think i was emotionally stable enough to read it then. well, tonight ive been clearing out my list of unread fics from last year aND GODDAMN WAS I EVER RIGHT ABOUT THAT.!!!

started getting all weepy and shaky before that first courthouse bathroom conversation and i didn't ever stop 😭 sobbed so hard and for so long at the unfairness of it all (for both of them !) i gave myself an asthma attack and had to stop reading.. what really broke me was e's bittersweet and somewhat detached realization on the courthouse steps that all their kids had flocked to laney during the divorce. couldn't stop thinking abt how badly i would've wanted to tell jesse off for being sharp to his daddy, and the knowledge that elaine COULDN'T, that it wasn't quite over yet and she still had to save face for a bit longer despite how much it killed them both, despite being the only person who could truly understand just how deep elvis was hurting right then and having been the one who'd made a whole life out of loving him hard.......... the idea of him resigning himself to having lost that forever (false) and her having to go against everything in her nature to let him ache a while longer,, oh it just shattered my spirit to bits right then and there. oh god im gonna start crying again just thinking about how lonely they both made each other 💔💔💔

im literally inconsolable, even with the reasoning behind it/ knowing how it ends beforehand, and having those future timeline fics to fall back on did nOT SAVE ME like . dear GOD woman how is that even possible?!?? if i had any shred of humanity left in my body id wax poetic for three more paragraphs abt how that speaks to your truly absolutely outstanding talent as an author and worldbuilder, but alas i think i cried out everything that was keeping me sane sometime in the last half hour and now i have to go lie facedown on the floor in my hallway and die abt it all instead 👍 fantastic work as always i love all your work so much forever etc etc 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

ps: it took me the better part of an hour to type all this out since ive lost the water content of approxinately a small ocean w my tears and am doing physically poorly in response 🫠🫠 so thanks for ur patience in this trying time 😔🙏

I spun around in circles upon reading this like my poor coon dog when she had a stroke -jovially of course. Like this is the stuff every writer dreams of getting for feedback but holy smokes, your talent for screaming? Beyond my wildest dreams. I’ve always told you how much I appreciate your time and enthusiasm to tell your thoughts Mary Hope, and now is no exception. My babe and co-author @elvisabutler deserves the pleasure of reading what we’ve wrought, as well. I’ll be halving all your medical and psychiatric expenses with her. 😏

Tbh, despite knowing both imminent and longterm reconciliation was to happen after this segment, we were just as cut up about tearing them apart as you were to read it. In fact, it was worse than all the lead up fics where the passive aggressive accumulation of grievances came across as hurts but ultimately only aggravations. This is just…PAIN. Funny how what was untenable before a tragedy suddenly appears to have been idyllic after it. Anyways.

Thank you for reading, here’s some Kleenex, albuterol and do know the sequel to this divorce is in drafts, so not finished AT ALL but it is in the works.

Not that it’ll hurt much less than this one. 😈

#sarge asks #love notes #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley

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ovrtimelove · 9 months ago

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✧ㅤRiNG ME UP PLZ ?! in which trainee life is just real life with extra steps. synopsis: three trainees from czn's basement band together... or rather, two normal trainees get pulled into this 'friend group' by one other trainee, who just wants friends. and people to complain to about this and that. watch as they anticipate the people chosen for czn's sixth collection! suffer through real life things! disclaimers: this is set in an au of our real world. this may or may not be connected with a smau by one of my friends. eunjae, dasom, and fuji are fictional characters. cznal entertainment is a fictional company. any groups mentioned that don't sound familiar are all fictional. the k-pop idols we know irl are in fact canon here, too, and may be spoken about. some topics may not be suitable for all readers, and tws will be provided at the start of every 'part'. RMUP is a mini-series and has no set updating schedule, and parts will likely not be in chronological order. this post is not a masterlist, please use # RiNG UP!.zip as a tracking tag. thank you for reading. profiles utc! character priv accs + profiles utc!

CZNAL ENTERTAINMENT a south korean multinational entertainment company and record label established in 2002. it was founded by yang jiwoo and shirley yang, with the goal to give people of any background an opportunity to achieve their dreams. known for handling second generation group 'SKYTALI', third generation group 'NV', fourth generation group 'ROUNDAWAY', and fifth generation group 'AMBI:VALENCE'. soon, they'll debut their sixth collection in 2025.

YOON EUNJAE (윤은재, HE/HIM) has zero external enthusiasm, but makes up for his apparent apathy with some stellar performances. even after two years of being in 'the company's basement', eunjae's patience is seemingly endless. he believes that his debut will come at the right time. for now, he'll have to put up with a redhead and the nicest rookie he's ever encountered in this company.

SEONG DASOM (성다솜, SHE/HER) rise and grind has been her motto even before it became a trend. friends with half the company, from staff to trainees!! even then, it doesn't kill her spirit at all, and she continues to work even after getting high praise. there's always room for improvement, even after two years of training at this company. take that, kq and jyp! two years each, and you couldn't knock 'em out!

CHIBA FUJIMORI (千葉藤森, ANY/ALL) one of the newer trainees who joined a few months ago. despite having lived in south korea for a year, adjusting is still difficult. friends are hard to make. language barriers are only being chipped away. at least this one girl was nice enough to try, and... maybe she actually likes them? they don't exactly know. at least there's somebody...

✧ㅤ my smau, my rules. therefore, i'll update this whenever the hell i want /JJJ!! i hope you guys enjoy oc content as well as x reader content. CZN is a little thing a friend and i have (not the same one in the disclaimer), an au i simply love and adore. it's my very first time showing off anything like this 🙏 feedback and REBLOGS are appreciated like i would LOVE some REBLOGS thanks SO much for reading mny conten ✧ㅤ general kpop taglist , @nonononranghaee. to be added to the [RiNG ME UP PLZ?!] series taglist, comment or shoot me an ask!

#ovrtimelove.chr #cznal-ent.zip #RiNG UP!.zip #kpop.zip #written dreams #kpop oc #fictional kpop idol #oc smau #kpop smau #RiNG UP!#RiU!#ring up #ring up yeun #ring up soda #ring up fuji #yoon eunjae #seong dasom #chiba fujimori

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lipglossanon · 1 year ago

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Hi lipgloss I am back to give you more brain rot. This time its for vampire Leon.

Vampire Leon loves to be in between (y/n) legs. He just loves to eat her out when she's on her period. She tastes so sweet to him. Of course (y/n) doesn't mind. She loves it when he is lapping at her pussy. Leon get drunk on the taste of her. When (y/n) is on her period he makes sure to have anything may need, because hes not letting out of his sight. She stays with him how ever long her period is. He doesn't care where within his home he has her. Other then eating her pussy in the bedroom he loves to eat her pussy while she lays infront of him on the dinning room table.

Now here's another thought to go with this vampire Leon, its the stepdads and OG stepbro. Dark gets more possessive of (y/n). He has a secret cabin that he loves to bring her to. Will kill anybody or vampire that trys to get with her. She can't figure out why one day her social economic teacher from her college disappeared. It was dark that killed him and drank his blood. The teacher was getting to close for his liking. Og loves to role-play with her. He refuses to do anything involving twilight. (Y/n) mother has no idea of the fact hes a vampire. She thinks he just has trouble sleeping at night then during the day. Og stepdad loves to fuck (y/n) when her mother leaves for work. The perfect way to end his day. Buried deep in (y/n) pretty pussy. Sweet stepdad also likes to be buried in her pussy at all times of the day. He finds it even more intimate when his cock is all the way inside her as he feeds from her. He still treats her the same the onlly differents is that he tries not to hurt her with his Vampire strength. He unlike the other two stepdad's and og stepbro, who like to use their strength to their advantage. He's always worried he will hurt his precious darling. Og stepbro loves to manhandle her. He will use (y/n) to his liking. If you thought he was cruel normally, hes a bit worse being a vampire. He leaves (y/n) clit bruised from slapping it so much. When their parents aren't around he likes to have her naked. Its easier that way then to explain why her clothes are in the trash. Their parents don't need to know what happens when they are gone.

One thing all the vampire leons can agree on is that when the days get shorter and nights are longer is the best. They can take their pretty darling out and about earlier. Love to make sure shes not wearing any panties. (Y/n) pretty pussy shouldn't be covered for them. If they want her then they don't want anything in the way. They also love fucking her pussy in dark lit areas. Bullying their hard cock into her pussy against the wall of a building is just one of their favorite things. Will feed from her while doing this.

[I hope you like this brain rot lipgloss. Also im thinking about making a blog myself and putting some of the ideas that i have on there but im still debating on it. Only because i dont know if people like like it or not. Would like some feedback.]

-🐉

Hiii 🐉 anon!! 👋 thanks for re sending your ask in!!! 🙏

AGSJGL I love all of this!!! Especially not letting reader wear panties while out in public so they can take here whenever they want!!! 😩 😵‍💫

Vampire Leon just lapping at reader’s pussy when she’s on her period! 🥴 any time she feels her cramps ramping up, he makes her cum with his tongue until she feels better 🤭

And all the different stepdad’s are spot on, sweet stepdad having her sit on his dick and cockwarm him while he feeds is making my brain brrr 😵‍💫

And I totally vote for you to do your own blog!! Then you can write what you like!! 😎 But I’m also happy if you just want to send in asks anonymously if you’re more comfortable with that! 💜

#ask box #🐉 anon #lipglossanon #lipglossanswers #vampire!leon #stepcest

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feejee-mermaid · 2 years ago

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Turn and Face the Strange

Read on AO3 | Written for the X-Files Flicked Switch Fanfic Exchange

My second ever fic. A million thank yous to @dsmulder4u for the prompt, and to @cecilysass for the incredible beta, feedback and advice 🙏❤️

A late night conversation - some truths are revealed. Missing scenes in the middle of 'Rush'.

“I spy with my little eye, something... chartreuse,” Mulder said, inching the Taurus forward. I-95 was a sea of red taillights.

“Come on, at least make me work for it,” Scully said. “Mountain Dew bumper sticker, Buick Skylark, three cars ahead.”

Mulder sighed. “This game’s no fun with you. I should start playing with Skinner.”

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ll try not to be so aware of my surroundings.”

“Please,” he agreed. “It's the least you could do.”

“I just thought, those details aren’t going to notice themselves. Silly me.”

“Downright absurd of you,” he said. “Stay in your lane, Scully. Leave the details to the details.”

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to the time of David Bowie’s Changes, which was crackling softly on the radio.

“You weren’t kidding when you said it was slow going,” he said.

They’d decided to head back to DC after leaving the police station and grabbing a bite to eat, anticipating the same bumper-to-bumper traffic Scully had crawled through that morning to get to the Pittsfield, Virginia morgue. Mulder had wanted to deliver the evidence locker surveillance tape to Chuck Burks ASAP, he’d said, so the man could work his spooky tech magic. Scully knew Mulder hoped Chuck would substantiate his theory – find hard evidence of a force, a specter, a poltergeist – whatever alleged entity was seemingly responsible for the theft of the murder weapon.

Scully didn’t know how the flashlight had vanished. But a terrestrial suspect was far more likely, and if she had to lay odds, one mired in the turmoils of adolescense, as her partner would say.

The case had intrigued Scully. And if she was honest, she was drawn to it simply because it felt lighter than their usual fare. Yes, the Sheriff's deputy had been brutally murdered, flashlight through the skull. Yes, a 16-year-old kid, whom she was inclined to believe was innocent, was terrified, in serious trouble and on the verge of throwing his life away.

But for once, there was no conspiracy. There were no alien forces at work. There were no cigarette smokers slinking in the shadows, no black oil, no toxic green blood, no bad remnants of a sci-fi b-movie, no fraught hospital bedside vigils. They were both clear-headed, whole, healed – as much as possible anyway – and by God, they were constantly smiling at each other.

And she was still remembering his lips, pressed flush and warm against hers at the stroke of midnight, ushering in a new millennium.

Well, she amended, not technically. 2001, etc, etc. But it felt like something new. It felt like the start of a possibility.

“Whatcha thinking?” he asked, crunching a seed he’d grabbed from the bag tucked into the car console and licking salt from his index finger.

From the passenger seat she watched his long, thick digit disappear into his mouth. God.

“Max Harden is bad news,” Scully said.

“Hmm,” Mulder said. “He definitely wants to play the bad boy. I’m not sure if that makes him a murderer, though. Maybe. Or maybe he’s just showing off for his girlfriend.”

Scully thought of Chastity and involuntarily bristled, then chastised herself for the juvenile feeling. She wasn’t sure she wanted to examine it very closely. The girl had shamelessly checked out her partner and Mulder had done a double take. She’d leveled him with a look, and he’d chuckled sheepishly, and that was that. But she worried about her reaction. She knew she had a possessive streak running below the surface, buried deep like a copper vein.

It tended to flare whenever he got appreciative glances from waitresses, rental car agents, flight attendants, or even the more overt come-ons from the Shelia Fontaines who seemed to inhabit every pocket of small town America. Wherever they went, women were undressing him with their eyes. Not that she could really blame them. She had eyes herself.

“You think so?” Scully said. “Just showing off?”

“Well, you know, the rebel persona – cliched as it sounds – when it comes to women, it has a certain appeal,” he said, clearing his throat. “Or so I’m told.”

Scully absorbed that token of information. She thought of what she privately labeled “Covert Ops Mulder” – black leather jacket, black turtleneck, two days worth of scruff and sweat – breaking into top-secret biotech facilities, jumping onto speeding train cars, eyes ablaze with recklessness, vengeance or virtue. She had to admit, it was hot. It was the same Mulder she imagined lying awake in the dark, save the glow of the TV, reclined on his leather couch surrounded by sticky VHS tapes, hand wrapped around his cock.

She flushed.

“Hmm,” she said. “Not speaking from experience, are you?”

He grinned. “Who, me? You know me, Scully, I’m like an altar boy on Sunday.”

She shook her head and smiled. She shouldn’t encourage him.

Mulder glanced her way, eyes playful. After a beat he returned his attention to the road.

“Hopefully Chucky can crack this one open,” he said, switching tack, punctuating it with a crunch of another seed. “Wanna grab dinner tonight? We can go over case notes at my place.”

****

They were slouched shoulder-to-shoulder on Mulder’s couch, papers and Thai takeout containers strewn across the coffee table.

He was chewing his nail, eyes scanning Tony Reed’s police statement for about the fifteenth time.

“Mulder, when Tony said he got to the woods –” Scully started, but got distracted by the pink flesh of his tongue running across the jagged edge of a hangnail.

“Huh?” he said, dropping the finger from his mouth and turning to face her. He was surprisingly close, his mossy green eyes looking into hers, their noses almost touching. She forgot the rest of her sentence. An inch forward and she could give him a bunny kiss. Which was not the kind of kiss she usually thought about when she thought about kissing him. Which was embarrassingly often.

She leaned slightly towards him, drawn like a magnet, feeling his gentle breath across her cheek. He radiated heat, and she could smell the notes of his cologne – woodsmoke and sage and sandalwood. She had the urge to play with his tie again – if he hadn’t flung it off hours ago – to grab it and pull him into her, pressing his perfect full lower lip to hers, slipping her tongue against his.

His cell phone rang. He leaned back, noticibly irritated, searching for the source of the sound, and eyed the device on his desk. He rose to answer it.

“Mulder,” he said.

Scully swallowed back both disappointment and relief. She sat up and started tidying the coffee table, collecting food containers and trash.

“Thanks a million, Chuck,” Mulder said into the phone. “We’ll meet you at the office first thing in the morning.” A pause. “Any hints?”

Scully made her way into his kitchen, depositing the rubbish in the bin under Mulder’s dish-filled sink.

“Right,” she heard him say from the living room. “Yes, that’s no problem. Alright, thanks again.” He clicked off.

“That was Chuck,” he yelled.

Scully walked back into the living room. “So I gathered,” she said. “He find something?”

“I think so, but he wouldn’t divulge much over the phone. He ran the footage through a couple of cool new toys – said the results were surprising. He’ll give us the full rundown tomorrow.”

She felt the weight of the day hit her suddenly, and the familiar urge to retreat after a charged moment. “Okay,” she said with a yawn. “Maybe I should get out of your hair then. We’ve gone over the file so many times I can’t really see straight.”

He shrugged, his gaze straying down her body and then back up to her face. “Stay for a drink.”

Something warm and fluttery settled in her gut. Against her better judgment, she accepted.

****

“What were you like in high school, Mulder?” she asked, sipping her beer.

It was late, and he was invading her personal space, face soft and open.

He took a sip of his own drink, thinking about the question.

“I was... coping,” he said finally.

“Most of the time I put my head down and buried myself in school work. Extra credit, honors curriculum – anything to get myself as far away as possible. I applied to schools all over Europe, schools on the west coast. I couldn’t put Martha’s Vineyard in my rear view mirror fast enough.”

“What about the rest of the time?”

“The rest of the time… I might not have made the best decisions. I was angry. I was trying to keep things together at home, keep my mom functioning. My dad was just silent, drinking, absent. I was furious with them both for making me be the parent. And I blamed myself for what happened.”

She swallowed back a wash of empathy and anger. God, everything he’d gone through – every person who had failed him. She wished she’d known him then. She would have held him to her fiercely, destroyed anyone who hurt him.

“Imagine we’d met in high school,” she said.

“You probably wouldn’t have liked me,” he said.

“I would have.”

He smiled. “That would have been something. Wow, a young Dana Scully.” He elbowed her gently in the ribs. “You definitely were a Betty, by the way. Some things never change. I bet all the boys fought over who got to be your lab partner.”

She snorted. “If they did, it was only because they knew they’d get an A.”

She thought of herself then – introverted, studious, desperate to be taken seriously, aching to make Ahab proud. Sneaking out with Missy to parties, secretly thrilled, feeling guilty about it for weeks afterwards and burying herself in books like an act of contrition. If Mulder had known her then he wouldn’t have given her a second glance.

Mulder shrugged. “I doubt that’s true. And if it is – well – boys are idiots.”

“And what about you?” she said. “You must have done alright yourself. All that angst, all that personal tragedy. Oxford bound, basketball and swim team captain – young Fox Mulder must have been beating them off with a stick.”

He laughed. “I might have been beating something off, but it wasn’t prospective dates,” he said.

She rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her drink.

“Seriously,” she said. “No girlfriends?”

“There may have been one or two,” he said. “Nothing serious. Although when you’re sixteen, everything feels serious.”

“You mean no one seriously fell for that trademark Fox Mulder charm?”

He cocked his head. “I have trademark charm?”

“Come on Mulder,” she said. “You must realize the effect you have on people. On females, in particular.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Do tell.”

“You know exactly what I mean,” she said. “I’ve seen it a hundred times over. It doesn’t matter where we are – you flash a smile and they… react. They get ideas. Like Chastity today at the police station."

Mulder rolled his eyes. “She’s a kid, Scully. I mean, flattering that I might inspire teen admiration, but a kid’s a kid.”

She waved her hand, conceding the point. “Yes well, that’s just an example,” she said. “I’ve got plenty of others. And you do lay it on especially thick when you want something. Why do I get the feeling that started at a young age?”

He grinned. “Did I just hear, on the record, that Dana Scully thinks I’m charming?”

She shook her head, a parade of women running through her brain, that same possessiveness roiling in her gut. That wolf woman, Bambi, Detective White. Detective White. That damned case, she thought. Mulder had been infuriating and insufferable and unprofessional and she had understood with a clarity she’d never known before how much she truly wanted to fuck him.

“I admit nothing,” she said.

“Does it work on you?” he asked.

“Of course not,” she said. I see it coming a mile away.”

He nodded, scanning her face, a half smile lingering on his lips. “Especially when I want something,” he said.

****

They were both three drinks in and he was kissing her, really kissing her, his hot tongue plunging inside her mouth. Irresponsible, she thought. Thank God.

One of his big hands was cradling the back of her head, the other was holding her at the hip as his body pressed hers into the couch. She could feel him rigid against her belly. She was feverishly hot and out of breath and soaking wet and she should absolutely stop this right this second. She kissed him harder, snaking her hand around the back of his neck to draw him closer. She was out of her mind, blissed out, her nerve endings fried. And they still had all their clothes on.

Mulder pulled back first, coming up for air. He was panting, wild eyed, tucking strands of loose hair behind her ear. She saw questions in his face. But also something that looked like certainty.

“Wow,” he said.

She kissed him again, slow and deep, like taking the first drink of water after years spent wandering through the desert. If you drink too fast you choke.

He pulled back again, pecking her lips, kissing her cheek and her temple, and pressing his forehead to hers.

“Scully...” he started, then fell silent.

The enormity of the moment hit her square in the chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She frowned, pulling away, defenses poised.

“No, I just mean – this wasn’t the right time to start this,” he said. “We’re in the middle of a case, we’re meeting Chuck in seven hours, we’ve been drinking–”

Trust Mulder to choose now to be reasonable for the first time in his life.

“It’s the perfect time,” she said, eyes turning glassy.

“I just want to do it right is all,” he said, cupping her cheek. “It’s you.”

“It didn’t feel right?”

He closed his eyes. “You know that’s not what I mean,” he said. “Of course it felt right. It felt like the best thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“Me, too,” she said.

“It felt unbelievable,” he said.

“This from the man who’ll believe just about anything.”

He smiled. She took his hand, lacing her fingers through his. He lifted their hands, brushing his lips across her knuckles.

“You – this – God, Scully, it means everything to me.”

She nodded, overwhelmed.

“I think… with us, Mulder… how can there be a wrong way?” she said. “There’s only forward, there’s only together.”

He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close. She rested her face against his neck, breathing him in.

“After the case is finished, let me take you on a date,” he said.

She chuckled. “Really?”

“Yes,” he said.

She had been everywhere with Mulder. He’d been the face across the table at a thousand greasy diners, he’d been asleep on the other side of countless motel room walls, he’d been next to her through endless road trips, hands steady on the wheel as their high beams pierced the dark. They’d played a million games of Rummy and Go Fish, biding their time in airport lounges, McMurdo station, quarantine.

He was there through cancer, through Missy’s death, her pillar through every one of her saddest and most terrifying moments. Beside him, she’d had the space to develop into her professional best. He’d given her agency and contributions the respect and value they deserved, and the work had been better for them.

He’d protected her, he’d saved her, he’d shouted at her, he’d infuriated her, he’d told her bad jokes, he’d told her the truth, he’d held her hand. And vice versa.

He’d shown her ghosts on Christmas Eve and a baseball diamond for her birthday, even though he was months early or months late.

She had absolutely no idea what a date with him would bring.

“Okay,” she said. “I’d love to.”

He dropped a kiss on her head, then pressed his cheek to her hair.

“Good,” he said, “good.”

They held each other for a few moments. She didn’t want to let him go.

“We don’t have to rush anything,” she said. “But Mulder – I’m not waiting another seven years to kiss you.”

He laughed, pulling back to look her in the eyes. His gaze dropped to her lips, and he cupped her face. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers firmly, with reverence and intent. A promise.

“Deal,” he whispered.

#the x files #xfiles fanfic #x files #dana scully #fox mulder #xfiles rush #fanfic exchange #x files fanfic

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gomzdrawfr · 1 year ago

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Some domestic PriceRaven hcs please🙏

domestic hcs my beloved

Price sometimes hum or sing at home when he's helping out with chores, which more often or not gets duet by Raven in the other room, eventually ditching their task and sway around the current room giggling away

"laundry's not going to fold themselves, Pricey" "shhh....well Im in a daze from your love, see~ I came back to let you knooooowww~ got a thing for you...and I can't let go~" "sigh....but then I only want the best for you, its true~"

Price is the chef and the better cook, but he still like to ask Raven to make some specific food just to see her face lights up eagerly (examples include but not limited to: caramel cheesecake, caramelized pork and abc soup[ah hem, the malaysian kind])

craving some dessert... we could have pudding nah...kind of hoping to eat cheesecake ohh what kind though the one with caramel on it oh yeah I'll order them- no, I want the one you made last time :o :] :D okie *rush to kitchen*

They own two cats, one orange one black, adopted by Raven but they instantly fell in love with Price more than Raven HAHA (its the beard)

Raven likes to massage Price's hands and can spend hours on his embrace/chest just nudging, pressing, squishing his knuckles, its her favourite way to zone out while still being with him, Price usually occupy himself with a movie/book or just stares at her (she's such a dork, he thinks to himself)

Price used to be the type that has a "strictly no talk about work in home" concept but it's different with Raven, and strangely enough he finds it nice and destressing to just tell her how his day went and knowing she gets it, sometimes even getting some good feedback or comments on certain things

#this made me want to draw a few scenes...annon what have you done /j #its a short duration when they stayed together but a nice soft one for sure #ask response #thanks for the ask <3 #gummmyspeaks #[oc]Raven #PriceRaven

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lorelune · 2 years ago

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im too shy to come off anon atm but tysm for the 2nd part after scrap metal. i quite literally screamed (internally, since i was with someone when i saw it) and after reading it, im well fed but just as starved for more OTL

idek where to begin w my thoughts, ugh, you write blade so well. SO WELL. like maybe ppl can write unhinged characters fine, but you. YOU. are so different with that. ill probably find the words in the future to describe what im feeling about this series(??bc it technically can be standalone) but all i can say is that im with the mind to print your writing out and eat it. like, chew it with my molars and swallow it, and then print another one to eat some more, maybe put some slices on my next meal LOLLL. idk, i want to consume it and have it in my veins.

i for real cannot come up with the words to describe this,,,,but i promise im not crazy !! (debatable tbh) i just really like WORDS and WRITING and this just made me just as insane as blade's probably feeling. it's beyond just being giddy bc one of my fav authors wrote for one of my fav charas and it happened to be a reader insert -- there is a fundamental nutrient being provided by your writing and it could have been for any fandom/show, and i probably wouldve had a similar reaction.

your writing has always been wonderful and captivating, but there is smth about the way you wrote blade's pov (brOTHER there is so much ART in the way consciousness was expressed, im frothing at the mouth--) in this and scrap metal that i think really showcased how well you write. like i said, this piece could have been for any other fandom (and i'd still read it bc you wrote it <3) and i know it wouldve hit me like a truck all the same.

this got super long bc it's late where i am but i really wanted to let you know how much i appreciate your work and the talent you have with writing, and this blade series made it so that i couldnt keep these thoughts to myself !!

ik this is only my 2nd ask but since idk when ill come off anon (bc im shyyy) i hope you dont mind me calling myself "slightly feral anon" LOLL (or if you have a better name it's up to you!!)

anon anon ANON (slightly feral anon = sfa anon FOR SHORT!!) thank you for the ask!!! and for reading and enjoying scrap metal and braised!!! 💕✨!!!! i am glad i could provide some fundamental nutrient rich chewable good brain feeling writing 🫡💓

TRULLLY blades pov is fascinating. it's what inspired me to write scrap metal to begin with!! i was thinking abt blade pov in present day game timeline and was like "damn he'd be fucking crazy :3c". i had such immediate brain worms and had to play around with it!!! the whole idea really grabbed me!! the prose hit too so hard like. this guy is not gonna think or feel in a way that is linear and its been SO indulgent and fun to write!!!

not to mention :3c i am excited to write more of these dynamics :3ccccc miss kafka does thing to me on a soul deep level and the relationship between her and blade and her and reader is so twisted and wretched and its so sexy of her. i'm excited for more of the yan olympics

SFA ANON!! thank you for this ask it has brought me much joy 🙏!! thank you once again for the kindness and for reading and sharing your thoughts, your feedback is very appreciated!!!!

#lore answers #HEY ANON!!! THANK YOU!!!#reread this several times bc :'''^) it is so kind!! u r kind!!!!#this series has been so fun to write and im so thankful for any kind words on it :'''^) SO BIG THANK YOU #also anon resonating on the like eating something u love #like gummy bear texture mouth feel munch munch ya know #ANYWAYS DEAR THANK YOU!! <33

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charmed-asylum · 7 months ago

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Funny how someone gentle touch ( bc until we see him mad it’s a gentle touch) how thing may go. Example after her talk with Raymond how he words “ his caring” influenced her. Maybe for now it’s for the good bc I mean she not getting it from anywhere else. “ The thought of his staunch expression fills you with dread and somewhat motivation…After your meeting, you spend the day cleaning your room, hoping for a clean slate to start over. You spend a bit too long contemplating useless possessions as if putting off the inevitable. Eventually you have to sit down and do the real work. Once you do that, you will be forced to face reality. This is the flip of the coin; success or failure”

Also way she is I wonder yes Raymond might be fascinated but still if he away and liked things in away wouldn’t girl like this be easy for him to mold. “ Everything you do is deliberate now, it has to be”

Oh Lee Lee Lee way he just is and then does huh shivers down the back and thighs . Like he clocks her too often and goes on that borderline of oops and creepy. Clocking her watching her asking her things that either you should already know like her age or what not. But way he makes comments and remarks are just wow.

“Mmm,” he takes another gulp, his eyes still on you. “Ain’t bad. Ain’t bad at all. Bet lots of men wouldn’t mind.”

“What?” You shift back on your heel.

“Yeah, not too bad on the eyes, are ya? I mean, ladies are all the same when you get em naked,” he chortles and stands straight.

In all it’s funny bc he thinks he clever or smart that she would confine in him but she won’t him doing that only makes Raymond more presentable more like. Men like Lee will always make men like Ray more appealing. “You promised you would” and little by little he can get what he wants.

“It takes two days to finish the coursebook, faster than expected. A gleam of pride flashes through your mind but quickly fizzles out as you attach your work to an email. It might be done but it matters more that it's done correctly…. You don't know much of Professor Smith or truly of people in general, but he seems to be very precise. Forgiving in moments but given his feedback on previous submissions, he is strict about the numbers themselves. You make yourself hit send“ idk but I can see Ray having a sectarian type of kink thing you know when it’s not perfect he discipline her or she would feel more comfortable when he gives her the good girls and what not but the bad girl w one thing not adding right. “ Your cheeks pinch as a smile threatens. He hasn't said whether you've done well or not but the acknowledgement feels like sunshine on your skin. It makes you want to keep going.”

Is Lee sneaking into her room. 🙏🙏😬😬😳 “You woke up with a horrible fullness and it hurts to let it out.” Because huh that all seems suspicious and I know it ain’t Ray bc Lee would pop a cap into his ass. Sniff sniff do I smell a better alpha then meeeeee pow pow.

It breaks my heart bc of past trauma she to afraid to even help her mom and she had to sit by and watch these men not only treat a woman nasty but her own mom. Even at the words I too jump and cringe at the screen playing in my head on tiny tv 📺. “ You push the door towards the frame and your mother sobs again. You close your eyes and stop. You don't know what you're doing. Why you're doing it. It never helps. It never works. Not since that little girl ended up at the bottom of the stairs all those years ago. When she learned to keep out of the way”

But then she tries and girl I was rooting for her . YOU GOT THIS GET HIM GOOD GET HIM GOOD !!! Left right upper cut ! lol I was really into this. “Still, you don’t let go. You don’t know why. Maybe because if you do, you lose” then mom looks like she about to start and help hurt this bad man this wolf and I’m starting to think hell yeah she got some sense she even got a good jab. Maybe once and I mean once the mom learns and they lose a loser. FINALLY …..

But then the bullshits comes and says here mommy

“Baby, let him go,” your mother huffs and heaves as she struggles to her feet.

She pulls on your arm, tugging you out from under him as he rolls onto his sides, his hand between his legs. She must have got a good shot in. She stumbles and sways as she pulls you up, hanging onto you as she almost topples again. She’s drunk. Very drunk.

“Go to your room, sweetie,” she brings a hand to your cheek. “Please--”

“But...” you trail off and look down at the man as he puffs out through gritted teeth, “make him go, mom. Please. He’s going to hurt you.”

“It’s alright,” she coos and pets your face, “it doesn’t hurt so much.”

“Wh-why?” You sputter.

“You gotta go, baby,” she coaxes, “let me take care of him.”

“Mom, please,” you beg her, eyes glazing with tears. “We can call the cops--”

“He is the cops, baby,” she lets you go and turns to him, falling over him as she rubs his arm, “Lee, honey, I’m sorry. I was just scared--”

And I too am shock 😳 piss very piss and then again shock. So sad because no matter what their are woman like this woman that they don’t see their worth and instead allow men like this to control them. What kind of example are you trying to leave for someone. “ You stare down at them, mortified. All that effort and for what? She just folds for these men. Goes right back to taking the abuse. Over and over again. They don’t even treat her nice. …There’s nothing you can do. You don’t know why you thought for that instant that you could. You don’t know why you think there’s anything you can do right. It all just ends the same” and then the cycle continues all over again .

A Guiding Hand 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect, depression, inference of self harm, violence, abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your online academics are affected by your personal struggles but your professor won’t let you give up so easy.

Characters: Raymond Smith, Lee Bodecker in the background

Note: you all are beautiful.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The professor’s shadow looms over you in your dim room. Now you have a face for your disappointment. The thought of his staunch expression fills you with dread and somewhat motivation. So it is that you at least try. Just try. Simple as that. Try.

After your meeting, you spend the day cleaning your room, hoping for a clean slate to start over. You spend a bit too long contemplating useless possessions as if putting off the inevitable. Eventually you have to sit down and do the real work. Once you do that, you will be forced to face reality. This is the flip of the coin; success or failure.

The next morning you turn on the overhead light, casting the space in a brighter tint than usual. You aren’t used to the clarity or the tidiness. You can see the floor. There isn’t clutter on the desk or the bookshelf and it just feels easier.

Anxious to begin, you sit down and boot up your laptop. You open your notebook and find your place. The course book takes some time to load as you yawn and rub your forehead. You need coffee before you begin. That’s it. No other distractions after that.

You get up and cross the room, a needling above your left eyebrow. Yes, coffee is a must. You come out into the hall and listen to the silence of the apartment. It’s early and you know your mother had a late night. You woke up several times to inexplicable thumps.

You shuffle into the kitchen and wash out the dregs of yesterday’s coffee from the pot. You empty the filter and put in a new one; measuring the grounds particularly. Everything you do is deliberate now, it has to be. You pour water in the tank and pop the lid down, hitting brew to cap off the process.

You lean on the counter and yawn again. You hang your head as your eyelids grow heavy. You can’t be sleepy all day. You need your energy. The equations will certainly do little for your pulsing head.

You hear your mom’s bedroom door and you shift over towards the sink. A figure appears at the edge of your vision but you don’t look over. You assume it’s her until the deep rumble rises from the man’s throat. Lee nears and before you can sidle further, he’s behind you.

“Mm, coffee smells good,” he rasps as he pens you in, reaching over your head to open the cupboard. His stomach presses to your back as you stare down at the sink, “scuse me.” He takes down a cup, lingering a moment before he backs away and sets the cup down with a loud clink, “you’re up early.”

Him too. You keep the thought sewn up behind your lips. You shrug.

“Heard you last night too. Skittering around in your room.”

Your blink at him. He wears only a pair of white underwear, his belly pudgy but his arms firmly muscled. He hardly seems bothered by his bareness. He takes the pot off the burner mid-brew and fills his cup, emptying what’s there before he places it back. You tuck your lower lip under your teeth and cross your arms.

“Night owl, huh,” he comments as he pulls the sugar dish away from the wall. He takes the lid off and sprinkles the sugar into his coffee without a spoon. You stand and watch him dumbly.

He swirls the mug and takes a sip. He lets out a satisfied sigh, “mm, you make good coffee.”

You bite into your lip before you let it free, “thanks, sir.”

He scoffs, “sir? Ain’t got my badge on right now.”

You nod and cross your arms.

“How old’re ya?” he turns to lean on the counter, slurping loudly.

You’re put off by his curiosity. Your run-ins are few and far between. That’s on purpose. You avoid your mother’s men and often, the do the same with you. You answer him and he hums, eyes slitting as he thinks.

“And you’re still living here with ma?” He wonders, “old enough to be out on your own, ain’t ya?”

“I guess,” you lock your arms tightly, your shoulders hurting from the tension.

“Mmm,” he takes another gulp, his eyes still on you. “Ain’t bad. Ain’t bad at all. Bet lots of men wouldn’t mind.”

“What?” You shift back on your heel.

“Yeah, not too bad on the eyes, are ya? I mean, ladies are all the same when you get em naked,” he chortles and stands straight.

“Sir, I... I got... I got homework,” you turn, swaying awkwardly as you drop your arms and march away.

“Ah, smarty pants, huh? Men like that too,” he taunts after you. “Don’t matter much when they young like you.”

You’re brittle, about to break. You don’t need another reminder of how much of a loser you are. Even when you try, it’s just not enough.

You don’t look back, your skin crawling as he belches and you hear the carafe hit the top of the machine as he lifts it again. You close yourself in your room and frown at the wall. You didn’t even get coffee for all that.

You pout and drag your feet to the desk. You sit down and brace your head in your hands. You’ll try to wait him out. He’ll have to leave eventually. Coffee doesn’t matter. You got to get through this course book. You promised you would.

📓

It takes two days to finish the coursebook, faster than expected. A gleam of pride flashes through your mind but quickly fizzles out as you attach your work to an email. It might be done but it matters more that it's done correctly.

You don't know much of Professor Smith or truly of people in general, but he seems to be very precise. Forgiving in moments but given his feedback on previous submissions, he is strict about the numbers themselves. You make yourself hit send.

You could take the afternoon on some self-congratulatory celebration, but you still have work to do. You open up coursework five and wait for the case studies to load. The most difficult part for you are the spreadsheets. There's so much data to sift through though applying the formulas and balancing them are easy enough.

After a few problems, you stretch your fingers and lean your head on the heels of your hands. You yawn at the desk and roll your shoulders as you sit up. If you can get through just one course, you might just be able to do this.

It's a bit ridiculous. The smallest of things are so big to you. The simple are overly complicated by your self-doubt and yet too often those doubts have proven true.

You shake off the wave of grimness and stand up. You stop halfway, hovering between the seat and your feet, as an email chimes in. It's Professor Smith. You sit and blink at the laptop.

'Thank you. I will have a look over and return with feedback. Hope you are keeping well. Good job on the speedy work.

Best,

Raymond'

Your cheeks pinch as a smile threatens. He hasn't said whether you've done well or not but the acknowledgement feels like sunshine on your skin. It makes you want to keep going.

You forget about the whim to have a cup of tea and settle back in to work at the next problem. If you get through the first section of the coursework, you might just be able to sleep.

📓

Groggy, you rub your eyes and grumble. You lean forward on the toilet and let the trickle out. You woke up with a horrible fullness and it hurts to let it out. You sigh as you stand and pull up your sweatpants.

As you crank on the sink, you hear a groaning hinge that mirrors the noise. There's staggering and the shatter of glass. A body hits the wall just outside the bathroom door. You turn off the faucet and face the commotion.

Your heart races as your mother cries out and there's the crack of flesh. Your reticence has you cowering as fire speckles over you. It's not just fear, it's anger, the frustration you tamp down each time you hear her bawling.

"No good lousy bitch," Lee snarls as there's another slap. This time he grunts, "what the hell do ya think ya doin'?"

You near the door and slowly turn the knob. You inch it open and see your mother crawling away from the man. The scent of vodka permeates the air and a broken bottle litters the carpet around her.

Lee boots her rear and sends her to her stomach. She yelps as he steps over her, dropping down to straddle her between his knees. She's wearing one of her tattered night shirts and nothing else, one sleeve down her shoulder.

"Now, I waa being nice and you just had to go and yip like a spoilt bitch," he grabs her hair and forces her head up as she whines. The thrashes out, the glass cutting into her arms and legs, as he shifts his weight and the elastic of his briefs tautens as he tugs at it. "Lemme show ya what you're worth--"

Your heart races and your throat lumps. Your chest tightens and your adrenaline wakes you completely. You don't know what to do. Do what you always do; hide.

You push the door towards the frame and your mother sobs again. You close your eyes and stop. You don't know what you're doing. Why you're doing it. It never helps. It never works. Not since that little girl ended up at the bottom of the stairs all those years ago. When she learned to keep out of the way.

Those memories fade and you swing the door inward. Your feet stomp out across the floor and you leap onto Lee's back as he bares his ass. You hook your arms around his thick neck and he falls backwards as your mom yelps again.

“Huh, oh,” she wriggles and drags herself from under you and Lee as you wrestle on the floor, “sweetie, no--”

She reaches for you and Lee kicks her again. She falls back and you squeeze him tighter, as hard as you can, ignore the bite of the glass as it pierces through your shirt. He elbows your side and you gasp, the pain ringing through your ribs.

Still, you don’t let go. You don’t know why. Maybe because if you do, you lose.

“What’re ya—dumb little brat—just like your ma,” he snarls as his weight crushes you and he tries to peel your fingers from around your forearm. “I’m gonna teach you--”

“Don’t hurt her!” You mother jumps on him, further adding to the pile. You can’t breathe as you’re flattened beneath them. “That’s my daughter! My daughter...”

Her words slur drunkenly as she cries and lays her fists weakly into the man atop you. He shoves her off of him easily but she doesn’t relent. She lands on her ass between his legs and yours. You barely keep hold of him as you head begins to thrum.

“Hold him, baby,” she orders as you can only see the top of her head over the chaos. She jerks and the man atop you grunts and shrivels his hands flying down to cup below his waist. “God--- Irene. The—fuck.”

“Baby, let him go,” your mother huffs and heaves as she struggles to her feet.

“Go to your room, sweetie,” she brings a hand to your cheek. “Please--”

“But...” you trail off and look down at the man as he puffs out through gritted teeth, “make him go, mom. Please. He’s going to hurt you.”

“It’s alright,” she coos and pets your face, “it doesn’t hurt so much.”

“Wh-why?” You sputter.

“You gotta go, baby,” she coaxes, “let me take care of him.”

“Mom, please,” you beg her, eyes glazing with tears. “We can call the cops--”

“He is the cops, baby,” she lets you go and turns to him, falling over him as she rubs his arm, “Lee, honey, I’m sorry. I was just scared--”

“I oughta--” he chokes out, “that damn daughter of yours...”

“Shush, honey,” she comforts him and bends to whisper in his ear.

You stare down at them, mortified. All that effort and for what? She just folds for these men. Goes right back to taking the abuse. Over and over again. They don’t even treat her nice.

She looks up again, her eyes glistening, “go. Lock your door.”

Her hiss nips at you and has you scrambling to your room. There’s nothing you can do. You don’t know why you thought for that instant that you could. You don’t know why you think there’s anything you can do right. It all just ends the same.

145 notes · View notes

silenzahra · 9 months ago

Text

Green, Orange and a bit of Purple✨

This story was originally written and posted on 14th February 2024 in two different posts. My dear friend @itsavee4117 reblogged them, which I obviously appreciate, but I'm afraid some time after he did, I edited both posts to add the chapters to Tumblr so people could read them here as well.

That's why I thought of redoing them, and I decided to share the entire story in just one post so as not to drive everyone crazy 😅 You can find it on AO3, where you'll see it's divided into two chapters (and I even added a title to them 🤭), or read under the cut to find the entire fic. It's long though, so make sure to grab a snack and/or a drink and take all the time you need. Of course, likes, comments, kudos and reblogs are always more than welcome! 💖

My original source of inspiration was @sarahrsketches's comic Plumber's Bouquet, which you can see dubbed here!

Special thanks to @itsavee4117 @whippedcremepi and @mario-movie-brainbug for reblogging the old posts and to @elitadream for leaving such wonderful feedback on them 💖 (You can find them here and here if you're curious).

For those of you who will read this for the first time or would even like to give it a reread: I really hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for your support, and please remember that my asks and PMs are always open for you. Reblogs are deeply appreciated 💖

Also, this story got many lovely comments on AO3, which I'm obviously very thankful for! Still, it didn't get much feedback here on Tumblr (no disrespect to those mentioned above of course 🫂). I hope it's not too much to ask, but would you please consider leaving some feedback here, even if it's just one sentence? 🙏 I'd love to hear your thoughts on my beloved Luaisy story! 🥰

Before I go, I'd like to add yet another source of inspiration, specifically for the dancing scene: the beautiful and magical music from Howl's Moving Castle 💖

youtube

@vulpixfairy1985 @bberetd @peaches2217 @ask-rosalina-and-her-family @aqua-peri @kimasousparky @megamagimugi @pepperycar @teegeeteegee @kelbreyworshipper @doodleydoo101 @eleventhhourfactor @smokszyvverstar

(Of course, if you want your tag removed, just let me know! 💖)

Without further ado: Luaisy for the soul! 💚🧡✨

Chapter 1: The beginning of the date

Luigi can’t believe it.

What he has been wishing for months is finally going to happen.

His first date with Daisy is about to begin.

Nervously, he smooths out the green shirt he’s wearing, the most elegant in his closet, so that there’s not a single wrinkle on it. From the corner where he waits, the one closest to his building, he takes quick and constant glances at the pipe through which Daisy is going to arrive, located at his back. Fortunately, it’s hidden in a seldom-traveled alley, so the chances of New Yorkers stumbling upon it by accident are slim. Of all the pipes in Brooklyn that are connected to the Mushroom Kingdom, this is the one closest to Luigi and Mario’s former home.

Which makes it the perfect pipeline for the brothers and their new friends to travel between dimensions while going unnoticed by the inhabitants of Earth.

As he patiently and with growing anxiety awaits Daisy’s arrival, Luigi goes over and over in his head the places in his city that he wants to show her. Everything will be fine, he repeats himself. He has been planning this date for months, long before he could even muster the courage to ask Daisy to go out with him.

He recalls that instant in his head very often. The way his legs trembled. His dry throat. His back sweating from nerves. How he kept fiddling with his fingers as, step by step, he approached the spot where Daisy was sitting in the garden of Peach’s castle, with whom she was having a lively conversation. Mario’s words of encouragement echoed in his head, along with the sentences they had rehearsed together so Luigi could say them to Daisy later. He remembers that Mario was waiting for him not far from there, hidden behind a corner and ready to intervene should Luigi require his aid. He remembers that Peach, as soon as she saw him arrive, apologized to Daisy and hurried to join Mario, giving Luigi a quick nod of encouragement as she passed him.

He remembers that Daisy, upon noticing his presence, smiled and greeted him by waving her hand with her usual energy, which made a smile blossom on Luigi’s lips. He remembers that, when he finally reached her side, she got up to give him a quick hug, causing his heart to bounce in his chest and her sweet vanilla scent to envelop him, before inviting him to sit next to her.

Of course, Luigi obeyed. Smiling nervously, he listened to her chatter for a few minutes, his eyes fixed on the dimples that appeared when she smiled and on the constellation of freckles that dotted her cheeks. Meanwhile, he was trying to find the right moment to start talking and the courage to push the words out of his mouth. From the corner of his eye, he distinguished that Mario and Peach, from their hideout, were gesturing to him. She did so discreetly and sweetly, but he was waving his arms and vocalizing in an exaggerated way, to incite him to finally start.

And Luigi, after swallowing, chose to do it in the same way as when removing a band-aid: in one go and without thinking.

“Daisy.”

His voice was barely a nervous whisper, but it was enough for the desert princess to interrupt herself and give him a warm smile.

“Yes, honey?”

“Er...” Luigi looked down, flustered by the affectionate nickname, and took a deep breath before continuing. “I-I thought that... W-well, I thought that m-maybe... you’d like to... c-come to B-Brooklyn?”

He scolded himself for his stammering. He’d practiced endlessly with Mario until he managed to deliver his sentences without stuttering, but standing in front of Daisy, the first person he’d been drawn to in a very, very long time, and trying to carry out the plan as intended was a very different thing.

“Luigi.” Her voice, full of curiosity, caught Luigi’s attention, making him set his eyes on her at last. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Her voice sounded defiant, of course, but Daisy accompanied it with a mischievous and amusing look that Luigi even found... suggestive? No, he must have been imagining it, he was too nervous and his eagerness to spend more time with her was playing a trick on him, Daisy could not be...

... Or could she?

“Uh-huh... W-well, uh...”

What should he answer now? Why hadn’t it occurred to Mario that Daisy might react like this? Why hadn’t it occurred to him?

“W-well, uh, I-I don’t know, I mean, o-only if you want to, I mean, I thought you might want to, but if you don’t, it’s okay! Of course you don’t want to, why would you, it’s a stupid idea, I-I’m very sorry...”

With every mumble that escaped his mouth, he felt himself shrinking more and more, to such an extent that he wished he could disappear, bury his head in the ground like an ostrich and never have made that suggestion to Daisy. Why did he think she would be interested? Why did he think she would want to spend time with a simple, clumsy, skittish plumber like him?

However, Daisy surprised him with a soft chuckle in which there was no trace of mockery, but rather... tenderness?

“Oh, Luigi,” she exclaimed, and slapped him on the shoulder so hard that Luigi thought she had just broken a bone. “Don’t underestimate yourself, sweetie! Of course I want to!”

Despite the pain in his back, Luigi sat up like a spring and turned to her with wide eyes.

“R-really?”

“Of course!” Daisy nodded vigorously, her grin so wide that it brought back those dimples that made Luigi feel like he was melting inside. “I really want to see Brooklyn, and I can’t think of a better guide than you!” she added with a wink.

With his back leaning against the red bricks so characteristic of his district, Luigi smiles, his cheeks flushed at the memory. Daisy’s joy at his suggestion was genuine, as was her eagerness to tour Brooklyn with him. Luigi really hopes, wishes, to be up to the task and get Daisy to have fun by his side. He fiddles with the flower he holds in his fingers and wonders if the desert princess will be much longer in coming.

He can’t wait to see her again.

A hand on his shoulder startles him so much that he lets out a shriek and is about to drop the flower. At the last moment, he manages to hold it close to his chest and places his other hand around its petals to protect it. As his fluttering heart tries to calm down, he hears a well-known chuckle, and a familiar and adored vanilla scent reaches his nose.

“D-Daisy,” he mumbles with a smile, beginning to turn his head.

“Sorry, honey,” she apologizes. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Luigi is about to reply that it’s okay, that it’s his fault for being so easily scared, but he can’t do it.

He’s speechless.

Daisy looks gorgeous. More than that: she looks stunning, dazzling, radiant. Her pretty auburn hair shimmers in the evening sunlight, and a sparkle under her ears reveals the golden, daisy-shaped earrings she has chosen for the occasion. Her lovely eyes, as deep blue as the sea, gaze at Luigi with affection. He notices the eye shadow that Daisy has applied, a beautiful shade of purple that matches the full skirt she is wearing, which reveals the lower half of her legs. Her sandals, on the other hand, are orange, and the heel of them causes Luigi to see her even taller and slimmer than usual. Her blouse, matching her shoes, is adorned with yellow flower patterns, and leaves her slender shoulders bare. As he notices them, Luigi swallows, wondering what it would feel like to put an arm across them and thus touch her beautiful skin, just to see firsthand if it’s as soft to the touch as it seems.

But what catches his attention, no matter how hard he tries to avoid it, are her lips. Daisy often puts on lipstick, but today she’s wearing a nice earthy color that matches her beautiful brown skin, and Luigi is seized by the sudden and compelling need to find out what they taste like. He reddens immediately and chides himself. This may be a date and they may have both dressed up for the occasion, but it’s not like him, nor right for Daisy, that that, kissing her, is all he can think about at that moment.

He wants to say something, anything, make some silly joke to try to relax and make her feel welcome, but only one word comes to his mind.

“Beautiful,” he whispers.

Daisy covers her mouth with her hand to hide a giggle as her freckled cheeks light up under the blush she has applied.

“You think so?” she says playfully. “How cute.”

Luigi gasps. Did he just say that word... out loud? He feels his whole face burning immediately with embarrassment, and he’s about to apologize when he finds Daisy looking him up and down intently.

Suddenly he feels ragged, disheveled, very far from the elegance of the young princess. Almost unintentionally, he takes a quick glance at himself, searching for any wrinkles or stains on his green shirt or his blue jeans, even though he has carefully washed and ironed them for the occasion. His brown shoes are also shiny, as he has rubbed them incessantly, and he has used more shampoo than usual when showering, as well as making sure that not a single hair was left out of place when combing his hair. Including his moustache.

All in the hope of making a good impression on Daisy, but it wasn't enough. How could it be? He works non-stop day after day, he gets dirty often, so he's sure he's left something out, some tiny detail that he's missed because of his nerves, and Daisy has noticed it immediately and is judging him and is going to leave at once, because how could she want to go out with him?

“Handsome,” she then says, slowly, looking him in the eye.

“Wh-what?”

“You just used an adjective to describe me,” Daisy says, and winks at him. “So I just used another one to describe you.”

Again, Luigi is speechless. He pants, trying to find his voice, but he feels like a fish that has been plucked from the sea and thrown to the bottom of a volcano. A green, clumsy fish that doesn’t know how to react to the fact that the girl he’s getting crazier and crazier about every day has just paid him a compliment. To him, no less. Does that mean, then, that there’s no problem with his appearance?

In a reflex action born out of fear that Daisy will laugh at him or, worse, get tired of waiting for an answer and leave, Luigi stretches out his arm in her direction. She gives a start and looks down, and a beautiful smile lights up her face when she notices the gift he is offering her.

“A daisy?” she says, delighted, and brings both joined hands to her cheek. “And it’s purple!”

“Y-yes,” he manages to murmur, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I-I grow them in my garden, in my house in the Mushroom Kingdom.”

“I love it! Thanks, Luigi!”

Daisy reaches out with both hands to take the flower, and Luigi struggles to ignore the tingle of excitement that runs up and down his body as her fingers brush his and send a pleasant electric shock sensation to his nerve endings. Daisy brings the flower to her face to inhale its scent and admires its pretty purple petals with delight. Luigi smiles tenderly as he sees her take the aster to her head to try and pin it in her hair.

“Wait,” he offers without thinking, reaching out his arms to her. “I’ll help you.”

Daisy slowly lowers her hands and lets him do it. Luigi holds the stem of the flower and carefully moves a lock of Daisy’s silky hair aside, taking care not to muss it. He places the plant so that it’s held securely to the side of her face and its purple petals sparkle almost level with Daisy’s lovely blue eyes. Which, Luigi suddenly notices, are watching him attentively. Surprised, he turns away from Daisy and takes a step back while letting out a nervous giggle, blushing again. He hadn’t even noticed coming so close to her, nor that his tongue, as it usually does when he’s focused on something, was sticking out between his lips.

Fortunately, although Daisy is observing him with interest and a wide smile on her face, she does not utter a word. She just stares at him, as if seeing him for the first time, and Luigi suddenly finds himself at a loss for what to do with his arms.

“W-well... D-do you want to...?”

He points forward with his hand, unable to finish the question, as his throat feels dry and he needs to drink urgently. Daisy’s jump, as if her mind had wandered away from there and just suddenly returned, disconcerts him and makes him wonder if he has inadvertently done something wrong because of his usual clumsiness.

But Daisy soon pulls herself together and gives him a dazzling smile.

“Sure!” she exclaims enthusiastically. “Where are we going?”

“Not far from here.”

Luigi starts walking in the direction of Punch-Out Pizzeria, which is almost at the end of the street. It’s one of his favorite places in Brooklyn and he can’t wait for Daisy to try their famous pizzas. He really hopes she likes them, because then he’ll always have an excuse to invite her to dinner.

As they walk down the street, Daisy stops to look in the windows of the various stores they pass. She points at them with her finger, which she presses against the glass, and talks to Luigi about how much or how little she likes the products for sale and how exorbitant or affordable she finds them depending on the price. He listens to her without interrupting and smiles, his heart full of tenderness at the genuine enthusiasm with which she examines everything.

When they get to the bookstore, however, it is she who listens to him talk. This is Luigi’s favorite bookstore, the one he goes to at least once a week to browse through the new releases and, if possible, take home a new book. The same thing happens when they reach the florist’s shop, although this time the enthusiasm is shared, as they both have a passion for gardening.

By the time they finally get ready to enter the pizzeria, it’s almost dark. Luigi can’t help but be surprised, as the walk from his house to the establishment usually takes him no more than five minutes. But he’s not going to complain, since, almost unintentionally, he’s had a chance to take a nice walk with Daisy and show her two of his other favorite places in Brooklyn besides the pizzeria.

Luigi opens the door and steps aside with an exaggerated bow.

“After you, milady,” he pronounces with feigned refinement.

He hears Daisy let out a soft chuckle that, unexpectedly, makes him feel connected to her in a way he’s unable to explain.

“Very gallant, gentleman,” she replies as she passes him, imitating his tone.

Luigi stands up straight, laughing as well, and enters after her. Daisy moves to a free table by the window and Luigi follows her without hesitation. He feels strange: on the one hand, he’s on familiar ground, in the pizzeria he has been coming to with his brother since they were teenagers, which floods him with an intense sense of security so powerful that he believes nothing could bring it down. In fact, he knows for sure that, if he’s been able to make that little joke with Daisy when opening the door for her, it’s thanks to that feeling.

On the other hand, his companion is none other than the ruler of the Kingdom of Sarasaland. A warrior and brave princess who’s won his heart with her exorbitant and inexhaustible energy, her desire to prove herself all the time and her lively personality. A princess, a young woman, who has the power to make him feel as if his limbs were made of butter, his face a burning coal and his heart, an organ foreign to his body that belongs entirely to Daisy, so that it accelerates like a runaway horse when she is near.

And now she is near.

She’s sitting across from him, flipping through the menu, but the tables at the Punch-Out Pizzeria aren’t too wide. Luigi knows that, if he stretched his arms out just a little, there’s a good chance Daisy’s hands would brush against him when she drops the menu. He swallows. Should he do it or not? Would it be too bold? Would it be too brazen to try to hold her hand? Would Daisy even want their fingers to touch?

“What do you recommend?” she asks, her eyes still fixed on the food list.

Luigi gasps. He feels as if he’s been caught red-handed, as if he’s been doing something wrong. He shakes his head a little and ducks it to see his own menu as he tries to sort out his thoughts to answer Daisy.

“W-well, Mario and I always order the bell pepper pizzas.”

“Let me guess,” she asks him, her voice laden with a challenge that causes Luigi to look up, curious, and their eyes meet over the table. “He orders the red bell pepper, and you order the green bell pepper.”

Luigi laughs and rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Is it that obvious?” he asks, embarrassed.

Daisy laughs softly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, just below the flower.

“Actually, I just went by the colors you two usually wear. Is it a coincidence that your favorite colors match your favorite pizzas?”

“I guess so.”

Luigi shrugs and she giggles again.

“If there was a purple pizza, I’d order it,” she states, returning her attention to the menu.

“You can try mine if you want to.”

Luigi purses his lips as he realizes he just said that out loud. It’s just a silly idea that has crossed his mind, but Daisy most likely doesn’t want to share. Why would she? He should’ve thought better before saying such a silly thing.

To his surprise, however, Daisy looks at him decisively and nods.

“What’s your second favorite pizza?” she asks, very seriously, pointing her finger at him.

“Er… C-carbonara,” he stammers, dumbfounded.

“Perfect.” Daisy picks up both cards and winks at him. “How about we order carbonara and green bell pepper? Then we can both try each other’s pizza.”

Relief floods Luigi with the intensity of the swell. Daisy’s solution seems perfect, so, trying hard to overcome his shyness, he raises his arm to call the waiter and places their orders. When the man leaves, Luigi places both elbows on the table and drops his hands over the edge of the table, close to his stomach. He doesn’t know where to look, so he wanders his gaze absentmindedly around the room.

Inevitably, his eyes end up meeting Daisy’s, so he forces himself to compose a smile. He’s so nervous, however, that it comes out weak and insecure.

But Daisy doesn’t seem to notice.

“Well,” she says lightly, also leaning on the table, and watches him intently. “So what else do you like to do?”

“Uh... Sorry?” Luigi feels lost.

“Apart from reading and gardening,” she says, smiling sweetly at him. “What other hobbies do you have, Luigi?”

“Oh! W-well...” Luigi shrinks back a little. Will he bore her if he goes into detail about his other hobbies? “I-I like photography. I like... to be able to save an instant, a memory, a place, and freeze them in time so that they become eternal.”

“Wow,” she exclaims admiringly. “That’s very profound.”

“Really?”

Luigi looks at her with wide eyes, unable to believe that, as is practically his case with the rest of the world, Daisy doesn’t think he’s being too intense or ridiculous in expressing himself that way. The young woman nods vigorously, a sincere smile glowing on her face, and her expression of sheer interest is all Luigi needs to launch into speaking.

He tells her that sometimes ideas or images come to his mind, and he needs to get them out of his head, to bring them to life. They drive him to write or draw, depending on what comes to him, which is why he collects notebooks and sketchbooks. He tells her that, every Christmas, he gives his brother a wool garment he knits himself, because Mario is quite a mess and his clothes hardly last from one year to the next. He tells her that on Saturday nights, he and Mario stay up late watching a movie in the living room of their new home, and that they always have trouble choosing because their tastes are so opposite. She listens to him, attentive, and from time to time lets out a giggle or makes a comment but does not interrupt him. Luigi, finally, tells her that on Sunday afternoons, and sometimes also on Fridays, he and Mario play videogames, and at his explanation about them, Daisy’s eyes light up more and more.

“That sounds amazing!” she exclaims, excited. “Oh my gosh, now I need to try those... What are they called?”

“Videogames,” Luigi clarifies, and leans forward, his eyes sparkling, sharing Daisy’s enthusiasm. “And you’re more than welcome to come try them out! I’m sure Mario would love to play with someone who’s not as clumsy as I am,” he adds with a laugh.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re not that bad.” Daisy playfully punches him in the shoulder, which makes Luigi’s giggles increase. “Keep in mind that I’ve never played. Of course you’re going to be better than me!”

“That is, until you get the hang of it,” Luigi says, massaging his shoulder. “And I’m sure it won’t take you long at all.”

“Well, thank you for your blind faith in me!”

Daisy laughs too and brings a hand to her chest, but, in the midst of their chuckles, she stops and gives him another intense glance. Luigi’s laughter barely lasts a couple more seconds before it stops abruptly, as he feels overwhelmed by the intensity of her deep blue eyes.

“You’re very sweet, Luigi. Did you know that?”

Daisy’s cheeks glow as she utters those words, but her smile remains, serene and confident, no trace of nervousness or embarrassment on her beautiful face. Quite the opposite of Luigi, who is convinced he could fry an egg on his forehead.

“Th-thank you,” he mumbles, looking away, and rubs the back of his neck again, flustered.

Daisy giggles.

“And you look so cute when you do that.”

Luigi’s blush grows, which causes Daisy’s laughter to increase in turn, and Luigi, despite his rosy cheeks, suddenly finds himself feeling that he can go on behaving like this forever if it will make her chuckle in such an uninhibited and sincere way.

At that moment, luckily, the pizzas finally arrive, accompanied by their drinks, and the young woman’s attention turns to the food. She contemplates both pizzas attentively, almost as if they were works of art, and this time it is Luigi who has to hide a giggle. He watches, expectantly, as Daisy takes her first bite of her carbonara pizza, and waits, on the edge of his seat, for the girl to pronounce her verdict. Her face, thoughtful as she chews, doesn’t even hint at a simple clue, which makes Luigi, almost without realizing it, hold his breath.

Until Daisy, after swallowing, gives him a beaming smile.

“It’s delicious!” she nearly squeals, waving her other hand in the air in excitement.

“Yes!” Luigi exclaims in turn and raises a victorious fist.

For the next few minutes, he finds himself devouring, not even knowing how, small bites of both pizzas, his and Daisy’s. He cackles, half surprised, half overwhelmed, when Daisy, without so much as by his leave, moves her head forward to take a rather savage bite of the slice of green bell pepper pizza he holds in his hand. Her expression is so delighted, so self-satisfied, that Luigi can only cover his mouth with his free hand to try to stifle the fit of laughter that assails him.

After finishing the pizza, Luigi suggests they have some tiramisu. And, if Daisy was already impressed by the flavor of the pizzas, she’s completely thrilled when she tastes the dessert.

“Oh my goodness, Luigi,” she mumbles after devouring the last slice. “No wonder this is your favorite place in Brooklyn. You have to bring me here often!”

“Anytime,” he offers before finishing his tiramisu.

“How about...?” Daisy begins to say, casting a casual glance around the place before laying her eyes on Luigi as she rests her chin on her hand. “Tomorrow?”

Luigi almost chokes on his tiramisu. Daisy hurries to bring his drink closer to him, and even though there’s barely a sip left, it’s enough for Luigi to stabilize himself. Speechless, he stares at Daisy, astonishment dancing in his expression.

“T-tomorrow?” he repeats, still gasping for air.

“I mean, if you want to,” Daisy replies, though she keeps smiling.

“Yes!” Luigi almost shouts, unwittingly stretching out on the table. “Yes, I mean, yes! Of course I want to! B-but you…”

“Me what, honey?”

“You...” Luigi lowers his gaze, unsure, and begins to rub the tips of his index fingers together, wanting to look at her, but not daring to do it. “Y-you want to?”

“Of course!” she assures him. “I love what I’ve seen of Brooklyn so far. I want to see more... and I want,” she adds, gazing at him purposedly, “to see my handsome guide again.”

The air disappears from Luigi’s lungs. His heart is racing, galloping so hard against his chest that he thinks it’ll end up opening a hole in his skin and running away to Daisy’s arms. She, in the meantime, stares at him casually as she bites her lower lip.

“I know I’ve told you this before,” she says softly, “but I love it when you do that.”

“A-actually,” Luigi replies with a nervous chuckle, “y-you said I’m v-very... cute... w-when I do th-that...”

His voice trails off as he realizes what a stupid thing he’s doing. Why does he stop to point out something so silly when the important thing is the message Daisy is conveying? Why is he unable to come up with an answer according to what she has just told him?

“Both options are true,” she replies without raising her tone, shrugging her shoulders.

Still flushed and uneasy, Luigi gives a weak smile. He is thankful that Daisy hasn’t for an instant pointed out the ridiculousness of his remark. In fact, it doesn’t seem to bother her one bit that he’s been the awkward, embarrassed bundle of nerves he’s always been all dinner. Quite the contrary: judging by her words and the intensity with which she contemplates him, Daisy loves that Luigi is so... like this. So him.

And he loves that Daisy is so her.

He swallows slowly, determined to tell her so too. His eyes remain fixed on the wooden table. His fingers, again, fiddle with each other. His cheeks burn, as they’ve been doing for most of the night. His voice comes out hoarse at first, as if it wants to remain a prisoner inside his mouth, and Luigi is forced to clear his throat to force himself to speak.

“I-I t-too... like you. V-very much.”

He lets out a small sigh of relief, pleased with himself for finally daring to say it out loud. He even breaks into a small smile, the urge to laugh bubbling in his throat.

“Just... very much?”

Daisy’s voice sounds suggestive. Insinuating. Provocative, even. Luigi, very slowly, dares to raise his head. Daisy hasn’t wiped the playful, cheeky smile from her mouth, as mischievous as the wink she gives him when their eyes meet. Luigi purses his lips. Blushing as he is, he plucks up his courage and holds her gaze, even though inside he feels like he’s made of jelly. When he speaks, he gives his voice all the seriousness he can muster so that she understands that he’s not playing games or exaggerating.

“Very much so.”

He almost feels like applauding himself for being able to say it without stuttering. He smiles again, trying to appear confident, and he doesn’t take his eyes off Daisy’s. He wants her to read in them the sincerity with which he speaks, just like him, in her gestures, in her smile, in her beautiful gaze, has been able to see from the beginning that she was not joking when she expressed how much she liked the way he is.

Daisy’s smile widens slightly, in a barely appreciable way, as she hears the vehemence of his tone, but Luigi notices it. She then places her hands on the wood and leans on it to stand up.

“Luigi, you are adorable,” she states as she gets up, and the way she says it, her voice filled with fervor, her face as if she were simply talking about the weather, completely disarms Luigi. “I’d love to take a walk with you. Would you like that?”

“Oh!” Luigi’s throat has gone dry at the compliment, but he struggles to find his voice and stands up too. “S-sure! Th-there’s a park near here. W-we can... stroll there. I-if you want t-to.”

Daisy smiles and nods, smoothing her skirt with her palms, and touches her hair for a moment to make sure the flower is still firmly attached to it.

“That would be great.”

She places both hands on her purple garment and smiles at him, and Luigi grins too, staring at her. It takes him a few seconds to realize that Daisy is waiting for him to move first, as he is closer to the exit than she is. Feeling clumsier than he has ever felt before in his entire life, Luigi stumbles until he reaches the door and, again, opens it and steps to the side to give way to her.

As Daisy walks past him, she gives him a low chuckle that has no mockery in it, and Luigi, his face burning, imitates her, though his laughter sounds a little louder because of his nerves, which, though they had settled during dinner, have returned more impetuously. When she steps out into the street, Luigi closes his eyes for a moment and takes a slow breath, trying to calm himself, before following her.

The blush on his cheeks increases when his eyes meet Daisy’s, who gazes at him with a smile full of affection. After clearing his throat, Luigi puts one hand in his pocket as he raises the other.

“The park is that way.”

As he drops his arm, a slight electric shock elicits a soft cry of surprise. He staggers back in surprise and carefully examines his hand. Behind it, he notices Daisy’s confused gaze, watching him in astonishment, her own hand raised. They both drop them slowly, their breaths a bit shaky, their eyes caught in each other’s. Luigi does not understand what just happened. Bewilderment washes over him, and Daisy’s expression tells him that she, too, feels disoriented.

Until, suddenly, she smiles a somewhat... shy smile?

“Wow,” she says. “Looks like we have chemistry.”

“W-what?” Luigi raises an eyebrow in confusion.

Daisy covers her mouth with her hand to hide a giggle.

“We accidentally brushed against each other,” she explains. “And sparks flew.”

Luigi lets out a low “oh” and looks down at his hand again as his brain processes what has just happened. His cheeks start reddening again as a smile, much more self-conscious than Daisy’s, blooms on his lips. When he returns his attention to her and finds her as flushed as he is, Luigi feels again that tug of affinity inside him that pulls him towards her and makes him understand that, without a hint of doubt, they are somehow connected.

“I guess we’ll have to be careful,” says Daisy, “or we’ll short-circuit each other.”

Luigi laughs and nods, though the immensity of his feelings doesn’t diminish for an instant. Then Daisy extends her arm, smiling warmly at him, and Luigi stares for a second at those fingers waving in his direction in a silent invitation.

“Shall we try again?” Daisy suggests.

Luigi looks up at her again with a cheerful grin and, without hesitation, stretches out his own hand. At the first touch of his skin against Daisy’s, he does not feel a new electric shock, but a mixture of excitement and disbelief that only increases as his fingers slowly intertwine with the princess’, their palms touching, as if this is their place, as if this is where they belong, as if this is where they always should be.

United. Glued. Together. Being one.

That’s exactly how Luigi feels when, as he lifts his fascinated gaze from the union of their hands, his eyes meet Daisy’s. She smiles at him, a slight blush covering her tanned skin, but Luigi, to his surprise, doesn’t feel insecure or embarrassed for the first time all night.

For the first time, he knows that what he’s doing, holding Daisy’s hand and pressing it lightly, feeling his bond with her deepening, is okay. It’s more than right. It’s perfect. It’s the right thing to do. It’s what he wants to experience all the time, every day of his life, if she feels that way too.

And, judging by the speed with which Daisy is quick to return his squeeze, Luigi has no doubt that the young woman does, indeed, reciprocate his feelings.

With a soft chuckle, Daisy nods her head in the direction Luigi pointed when he left the pizzeria. Luigi responds with another giggle and, not letting her hand go, starts walking.

Chapter 2: The end of a wonderful night

Walking with Daisy hand in hand is a very different sensation from walking with her by his side. Now, even if Luigi still finds it hard to believe, he is touching Daisy’s warm skin, which turns out to be much softer and silkier than he had imagined. He is feeling her slender fingers wrap around his hand. He is feeling her palm press against his, seeking his touch the same way Luigi seeks hers.

He feels so exhilarated, so euphoric, so blissful, that, almost without realizing it, he begins to swing his arm, rocking Daisy’s as well. She laughs when she notices the movement, but she doesn’t try to stop him, quite the contrary: she starts swaying her arm with so much momentum that soon is she who leads the motion, which makes Luigi laugh out loud while, thrilled, he lets himself be carried away.

They soon leave the hustle and bustle of the city behind to dive right into the greenery of the leafy park where Luigi goes for a walk from time to time. Daisy smiles, delighted, as she notices the dense nature around them, and reaches out her hand to brush the trunk of one of the trees they pass. She can’t take her eyes off all the beautiful flowers that populate the area, her eyes wanting to capture it all, and Luigi gazes at her with a deep feeling of tenderness flooding his heart.

“I used to come to this park a lot when I was a child,” he tells her, his eyes also wandering around the place. “My Mom used to bring my brother and me here when we were just babies. We’d play together in the sand,” he adds, pointing to a section in the park where a children’s area is visible, “although at first Mario preferred our mom to swing him. It was too scary for me,” he confesses with a chuckle, “so I’d rather stay there building castles with my colored blocks.”

Even though he was very little, Luigi still remembers one of those occasions when, after he had finished building a big fortress with his blocks, a boy suddenly stormed in and stole the flag he was trying to crown it with. Luigi recalls the feeling of helplessness when the boy, with a brutal kick, smashed his castle, and the momentum caused him to fall backwards and crumple to the ground while the boy cruelly taunted him.

Until, behind his aggressor, something red unexpectedly appeared, hit him on the head and snatched the flag from his hand. Luigi still remembers how surprised he was when he noticed Mario, who, standing protectively in front of him, held out the flag without turning to him, his defiant and furious expression fixed on the boy. The latter, after getting up, gave them an angry look before running away. Only then did Mario turn to Luigi with a reassuring smile from ear to ear, and Luigi, still somewhat stunned by what had just happened, tried to return the smile, though he could barely compose a weak grimace.

From then on, however, Mario began to play more often with him in the sand. He still went on swinging, of course, and soon began to go down the slide without their mom’s supervision, but he never took his eyes off Luigi. Years later, moreover, that park was crucial in Mario’s recovery after his first love breakup, since Luigi, after several days of taking care of him and comforting him while his brother cried his heart out in his arms, managed to convince him to leave the house and go for a walk together. The fresh air of nature felt so good and cheered him up so much that, soon, it was Mario himself who began to look for Luigi to go for a stroll in the park.

A sigh escapes Luigi’s lips as he recalls those memories. This park is very important for him, so he’s glad to be showing it to Daisy. Since she wanted to see his favorite places in Brooklyn, this little garden hidden in the heart of his district could not be missed.

“What do you think?” he asks, turning to her, his hand firmly clasped in hers.

“I love it,” Daisy declares, looking everywhere to soak in the beauty of the park. “It’s a very beautiful place.”

She turns her face towards him as she takes a step to cover the short distance between them. The fingers on her other hand lightly brush Luigi’s arm, making him give a start. The touch is so faint and intense at the same time that he feels himself melting.

“Thank you for sharing it with me, Luigi.”

Her head rests gently on his shoulder as she releases a sigh, her hair, and the purple flower, tickling his ear. Luigi’s heart, at this point, has jumped into a runaway gallop that brings a smile to his lips, nervous and plethoric at the same time. His skin burns so much, it’s been burning so much all night, that he wouldn’t be surprised if the next day he finds burns all over his body, as if he had gone to the beach and forgotten to apply sunscreen.

By then, their footsteps have led them to the pond that rules the place. It’s a large lake inhabited by several families of ducks, where, during the day, passers-by can sail in small boats. Luigi promises himself to bring Daisy here again soon, so that they can ride together in one of the boats in the sunlight. He knows for sure that she’ll like the experience.

Right now, all they do is gaze at the calm waters under the bright light of the full moon, along with many other couples also strolling through the park. Luigi notices that there are some clouds scattered across the sky but hopes that they won’t rob the moon of its brightness and allow them to continue enjoying the peace and warmth of this summer night.

“Luigi, look!”

Daisy’s alarmed voice, together with the light tapping she gives him on the arm, makes Luigi lower his eyes again. He gapes at a duck that is approaching them, swimming calmly across the pond, tracing a clear straight line that emerges from the small house in the center of the lake, where all the ducks live, and concludes, without any doubt, at the exact point where Luigi and Daisy are standing in this moment.

“How strange,” Luigi murmurs, puzzled. “I thought all the ducks would be sleeping at this hour.”

“Maybe it’s a vampire duck,” Daisy suggests.

Luigi gives a snort and looks sideways at her.

“You think so?”

“Maybe it’s coming to drink your blood,” adds Daisy, running two fingers along his arm.

“Or yours,” Luigi counters, ignoring the shudder that runs through him at the young woman’s touch.

She laughs, and the sound of her laughter makes Luigi’s heart beat faster, full of tenderness.

“I don’t think so. My blood is blue,” Daisy points out, gazing at him with a raised eyebrow. “I’m a princess, remember?”

“Then maybe it’s a bewitched prince who needs to be kissed by a beautiful princess.”

The words have come rushing out of his mouth, not even thinking them, his eyes fixed on Daisy’s. He scolds himself once again, convinced he’s gone red in the face again, but Daisy’s sly smile silences the apology that was about to burst from his lips.

“I can think of a much better candidate than a prince to kiss this princess.”

Again she runs her fingers along his arms as she speaks, so slowly that Luigi thinks he’ll pass out. Her eyes, two glittering sapphires, gaze at him with intensity, even brighter in the moonlight. Luigi is breathless, but the beauty of her look so mesmerizes him that he is unable to take his eyes off her.

A sudden squawk startles him so much that it makes him stagger and fall backwards, a shriek of surprise escaping his throat. Luigi closes his eyes just as his lower back hits the grass and he lets out a soft moan of pain, but Daisy’s screams immediately catch his attention.

Opening his eyes, Luigi gasps when he sees that the princess has placed herself in front of him in a protective attitude to defend him from the duck, the cause of his fall.

“Get away from here!” she shouts at it angrily, trying to shoo it away.

The animal flaps its wings, still quacking, but Daisy’s impetus, her eagerness to keep it away from Luigi, ends up causing the duck, although reluctant, to begin to waddle in the direction of the pond, to which it finally returns. Only then, Daisy lowers her arms, her breathing accelerated, and turns to Luigi with concern painted on her face.

“Oh, my, Luigi, are you all right?” she asks, holding out both arms to him.

And Luigi, who had been staring at her, completely fascinated, blinks suddenly, trying to get out of the state of confusion in which he’s immersed, and shakes his head.

“Y-yes,” he murmurs, laughing nervously, as he raises a hand.

Daisy clutches it at once, her fingers closing tightly around his palm and wrist, and Luigi feels that warm, pleasant shock again as soon as his skin comes into contact with the princess’. Daisy pulls him to help him up, and he embarrassedly massages his back with his free hand. His other hand is closed tightly around Daisy’s, and he has no intention of opening it.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, embarrassed. “It caught me off guard.”

Daisy, not letting go either, lets out a faint giggle.

“Don’t apologize.” She removes her hand from his wrist, only to place it under his chin and sweetly turn his face towards her. “It wasn’t your fault, but the vampire duck’s.”

They both laugh, sharing a knowing glance, and Luigi can’t help but stare at her, spellbound, still unable to take in the fact that this brave princess has just saved him. Even if it was from something as random as the attack of a duck from the pond.

“Thank you, Daisy,” he says wholeheartedly, his eyes shining with emotion.

Daisy’s face lights up with a smile that, once more, brings out the dimples in her freckled cheeks.

“You’re welcome, Luigi.” Her eyes stare at him again. “You’re... so charming.”

Luigi’s legs tremble, and not because of the fall. He feels that his smile is like jelly, flimsy and unstable. A scream rises in his chest and spreads throughout his body but does not reach his throat. His cheeks, of course, burn, even more intensely. And his heartbeat is so loud, so booming, that he’s convinced Daisy can hear it clearly.

She keeps looking at him, her expression full of warmth. Is it Luigi’s impression, or is her face now a little closer to his? His eyes, as if deciding for themselves, drift to those beautiful lips, so full and suggestive, that he so badly wants to kiss. Is it possible that Daisy... also wants to... kiss him? Him?

Suddenly, a soft melody reaches his ears. With his eyes still locked on Daisy’s, Luigi doesn’t lose any detail of her reaction: a new sparkle, naughty this time, shines in her eyes, while her smile turns mischievous. With a giggle, the princess puts a finger to his chest and pushes him gently, making him back away, at the same time that she herself takes a step backwards. Luigi laughs, stunned, though his mirth dies when Daisy’s hand slowly slides across his palm until the touch is broken, leaving him with a sensation of emptiness that makes his chest feel hollow.

“Wow,” Daisy exclaims playfully, as she places both hands behind her back. “This music is perfect for a dance, don’t you think?”

Luigi laughs again, but, somewhat confused, he takes his eyes off Daisy for a moment to search for the source of the melody. He then notices a figure, under a tree near the pond, sweetly sliding a bow over the strings of a violin, inviting the many other couples strolling around to dance to the beautiful song and take in the intimate and romantic atmosphere.

A throat clearing from Daisy impels Luigi to rest his gaze on her again. The princess does not look directly at him, but her eyes are raised to the sky.

“I wonder,” she says, pretending to be oblivious to his presence, “if there’s a handsome gentleman around here who would like to ask this lady to dance.”

Luigi gasps as he realizes Daisy’s intentions. His heart pumps wildly at the fleeting wink she gives him. Dancing? Together? Like in those romance stories set in bygone eras? His throat goes dry. Of course he loves to dance, and of course he’d love to dance with Daisy, but pretending to be a gentleman asking a lady for a dance? And a princess, no less. He’s just a simple Brooklyn plumber – how can he possibly live up to her expectations?

But it’s Daisy. The girl who has driven him crazy practically since the first time he saw her. The warrior, feisty princess who won his heart with her impulsiveness and her spontaneity. The bold, sassy woman he has fallen for head over heels. And, besides, she looks so beautiful, with her pretty orange blouse, her cheerful full skirt, the purple flower pinned to her lovely auburn mane, shimmering under the moonlight...

He wants to do it. He wants to dance with her. He wants to feel her close, he wants to feel her hand in his again, fitting together like two pieces of a perfect puzzle. He wants to please her, to whirl with her until dawn if necessary, to be carried away together by the sweet melody that flows from the violin and floods his ears.

So, without a second thought, Luigi plucks up his courage, shortens the distance between them in two strides and, with a slight bow, extends his hand to her.

“Would you do me the honor of granting me this dance, beautiful lady?”

Daisy’s smile widens at his gesture, her dimples appearing once again on her cheeks. She brings one hand to her chest in feigned surprise and slowly reaches out the other to place it softly on Luigi’s palm.

“With pleasure, handsome gentleman.”

Luigi’s fingers unconsciously close around her delicate hand. When he straightens, however, Daisy lets go, but does not pull away from him. With her eyes fixed on Luigi’s, the young woman places one hand on her partner’s shoulder and reaches for his fingers with the other, so that, at last, their hands are joined again, palm against palm, the fingers of one of the back of the other’s hand. Instinctively, Luigi raises his other hand to, with some uncertainty, rest it on Daisy’s waist, whose smile widens, and she gives him a slight nod of approval. Luigi sighs in relief, his grin a little more confident, and then, to the rhythm of the music, they both begin to move.

At first, of course, Luigi’s feet stumble, his legs shaking like a leaf. Daisy laughs faintly at his embarrassed expression, but she gently squeezes his hand and, whispering, begins to set the beat to help him.

“One, two, three... Now!”

And Luigi obeys, and strives to follow the pace she sets, and manages to complete the steps so precisely that he surprises himself. He watches Daisy with enthusiasm shining in his eyes, and she, smiling tenderly at him, falls silent, because she understands that he no longer needs her to guide him.

And suddenly, they’re dancing.

Luigi can’t believe it. The delicate cadence of the melody propels his feet, which move in near-perfect synchrony with Daisy’s. They whirl around the park together, close to each other, Daisy’s purple skirt tangling around her legs. She, with her eyes closed and a serene smile on her lips, rocks in Luigi’s arms, feeling the music, living it, and he soon catches the passion with which the young woman dances. The song floods his mind, reaches his heart and urges him to dance with his soul, devoting himself entirely to the beauty of the music.

Without letting go of Daisy, Luigi reaches out his arm to spin her around, and watches her beautiful hair float behind her, making her look even more attractive in his eyes, if that’s even possible. The purple daisy, still clinging to her mane, slips a little to rest on Daisy’s ear, and, at the conclusion of the spin, she falls into Luigi’s arms with a soft exhalation of awe. Luigi holds her, one arm behind her back, his hand gripping Daisy’s firmly, and breathless, she gives him a rapt smile, her free arm coming up to encircle his neck. Luigi, to his surprise, finds himself smiling gallantly at her, completely immersed in the music and the intimate atmosphere of the place. He helps her straighten up and resettles his hand on her waist, as Daisy’s hand slides back to its place on his shoulder. As they continue to dance, however, her fingers lift slightly to graze his ear, sending a tingle of pleasure to every nerve ending in Luigi’s body.

By the time the harmonious melody concludes, they’re both breathing heavily, their hearts beating fast to the rhythm of the other’s. They glance, smiling, their hands still intertwined, Luigi’s palm still on Daisy’s waist, Daisy’s fingers still resting on Luigi’s shoulder. Their bodies are very close, their chests almost pressed together due to the posture. Luigi, for the umpteenth time that night, finds his eyes entwined with Daisy’s, caught by that depth that so reminds him of the ocean. She too seems unable to stop gazing at him, a pretty smile gracing those beautiful lips that Luigi is so eager to taste. His heart gets a little faster if possible at the thought, but the princess drives him so crazy that he can only think of having her closer, a little closer, just a little bit closer. He feels totally imprisoned by her spell, hopelessly wrapped around her finger, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

His breath intermingles with Daisy’s. Hers is a bit shaken, while he feels like a bundle of nerves. Still, Luigi’s instinct is screaming at him to keep his head down a little, and who is he to resist.

“Luigi,” he hears her say then, her voice barely a choked whisper, “if you want to stop... you’d better do it now.”

Despite her words, Daisy doesn’t sound too convinced. Luigi can’t stop the corners of his lips from lifting slightly, his heart full of tenderness, and his voice comes out hoarse and low as he manages to answer her.

“I don’t want to stop.”

Fleetingly, Daisy returns his smile. She continues to move closer, raising her head a little higher, and Luigi continues to tilt his, both anxious and excited with anticipation.

Until, at last, their lips meet.

And Luigi feels like he could die in that instant.

Daisy’s lips are sweet, soft, far more delicious than Luigi could have imagined, and he melts inside with delight. He thinks he might burst into tears from the joy of finally seeing his greatest wish fulfilled. Is Daisy, the princess he’s madly in love with, really kissing him? Is this not a dream? But no, the touch of her velvety lips against his is so real that he’s about to lose his mind.

He wants to give himself completely to this madness and never let go.

They linger for a second with their mouths pressed together, enjoying each other’s touch, until Daisy begins to move her lips. At first she does it slowly, tempting him, tasting him, and Luigi, delighted, lets himself be guided by her lead and enjoys the movement.

Then Daisy opens her mouth, inviting Luigi to explore her, and lets go of his hand to wrap both arms around his neck. Luigi barely notices, so lost as he is in the kiss, so fascinated by the flavor of the young woman that he can’t even realize that now both his hands are squeezing her waist, instinctively pulling her closer to him.

They both raise their tongues at the same time, so they meet somewhere in the middle of the union of their mouths. Luigi moves his away for a moment and allows Daisy to be the first to explore his mouth, and he feels his legs tremble at the gentleness and tenderness with which she does so. Next it is Daisy who pulls her tongue away and, again, opens her lips, and this time Luigi accepts the invitation and marvels again at the intoxicating taste of the pretty princess.

They continue to kiss and savor each other, not wanting to stop, not wanting to move away from the other, not wanting this sensual and exciting experience to end. They press more and more against each other, the kiss is more and more ardent and passionate. Luigi feels more and more flushed and heated, but he doesn’t want to stop for anything in the world. He feels that he could spend all his remaining life kissing Daisy, lost in her lips and in her flavor and feeling how she entangles her fingers around his neck in an attempt to bring him even closer to her.

Suddenly, Luigi begins to feel a slight discomfort on his arms, something cold and wet that makes his skin prickle, but he ignores it, for Daisy’s lips are more important. However, the discomfort increases, now falling on his hair as well and slipping through Daisy’s fingers. She lets out a little cry of surprise against his lips and Luigi can’t help but smile, but doesn’t release Daisy’s mouth, eager to prolong the kiss for all eternity.

Nevertheless, even though she doesn’t seem to want to break away either, she begins to say his name giggling as she places her hands on his chest to try to push him away a little, gently but firmly. Luigi, thinking it’s just a game, laughs and pulls her a little closer, ignoring the cold he feels in his arms and head. Daisy presses her lips on his for a moment more and, to Luigi’s disgrace, she moves away and says his name again, still chuckling, raising her tone a little. He finally opens his eyes but doesn’t erase the infatuated smile from his face nor take his arms away from her waist.

“It’s raining,” she points out with a giggle.

“How nice,” he mumbles, enraptured, and seeks her lips again.

Daisy is about to burst into laughter, but it’s drowned out by the intensity of his kiss. However, after a few seconds of kissing him back, she pulls away again and places her hands on his cheeks.

“Luigi,” she insists, amused. “It’s raining!”

Oly then does he manage to process her words.

“It’s raining?” he repeats as he instinctively raises an arm to place it over both of their heads.

When he glances up, he realizes in frustration that the clouds he saw when they arrived at the pond have ended up hiding the moon and have broken the magical moment he was sharing with Daisy. He purses his lips in annoyance. They’ll get soaked, and the flower he gave the princess will be ruined.

She, however, covers her mouth to hide a giggle, amused at his reaction. Luigi, without a second thought, grabs her hand and runs away. She laughs heartily, letting him lead her, and Luigi guides her through the flora of the park and back to the city. He runs, pulling Daisy and catching her loud laughter, unable to help it, and takes her to the only place he can think of: his parents’ house. They enter and stand in the doorway, close to the ascending stairs, sheltered from the sudden storm that has burst over their heads. Breathing heavily, they look at each other, wide smiles on their faces, their hands still clasped together.

Luigi, lost in Daisy’s beautiful eyes, raises his free hand to check the condition of the flower, which, to his surprise, is holding firm, resistant to the rain. On impulse, Luigi begins to stroke the princess’ freckled cheek, and she widens her smile and tilts her head a little to enjoy the caress. Luigi’s heart fills with tenderness, and he, captivated, wishes to be lucky enough to see this girl every day.

He wishes to be lucky enough to kiss this girl every day.

“I had a very great time,” Daisy says softly.

“Even with the storm?” Luigi asks, giggling to hide his blush.

“Even with the storm,” she nods.

They laugh again, feeling deeply connected once more, and Daisy’s hand rises to rest on Luigi’s, who hasn’t stopped brushing her cheek with infinite fondness.

“Although...” Daisy stands on tiptoe so she can whisper in his ear. “What we were doing just before it started raining was my favorite part.”

Luigi is sure his whole face is now redder than Mario’s hat. He swallows, as his throat has gone dry, and notices his heart hammering in his ears. When Daisy looks at him, he smiles and nods in an awkward attempt to tell her that this was his favorite part too.

“We’ll have to do it again,” Daisy adds suggestively.

Seizing the fact that she was still on tiptoe and that their faces are close together, she rubs her lips against Luigi’s, just for an instant, just a quick caress of her mouth on his. For Luigi, though, it’s more than enough: he grabs her waist again and opens his mouth to deepen the kiss. Daisy gives a soft giggle, but immediately reciprocates his gesture and cups his face gently.

This time they’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps running down the stairs. Startled, they separate, although their hands remain in the same places, and they look up just in time to see Mario arriving, at full speed, at the hallway of the building.

“Wow,” he exclaims with a chuckle. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Luigi gives him an embarrassed smile and hopes that Daisy’s hands, still resting on his cheeks, hide his blush. She, without a trace of shyness, widens her smile and leans a little towards him, so that her hair grazes Luigi’s chin. His legs automatically turn into butter again.

“I see the date went well,” Mario observes, smiling mischievously at them.

“Better than that,” replies Daisy, and her fingers begin to affectionately squeeze Luigi’s cheeks, making him feel the urge to laugh and hide underground, all at the same time. “Your brother and I are boyfriend and girlfriend.”

Her words fill Luigi’s heart with so much joy that, not caring that his brother is present, he gives Daisy a fully beaming glance.

“Does that mean I can treat you like a sister now?” Mario asks amusedly.

“Weren’t you already doing that?” replies Daisy, following his joke.

“Maybe, but I guess it makes more sense now.”

Daisy responds with a laugh, her hands coming down to Luigi’s shoulders. He manages to emit a nervous chuckle, and his eyes suddenly meet Mario’s, who, slowly, has continued to approach the door. At that instant, however, Mario stops, his gaze filled with understanding and affection, and Luigi’s heart swells in his chest, his smile a little hesitant at his brother’s sincere joy for him. Luigi nods slightly, hoping Mario catches the appreciation in his gesture and in his eyes, for, after all, his brother has helped him from the beginning in everything concerning his feelings for Daisy.

Luigi would not be experiencing his exciting first date with Daisy were it not for his beloved big brother’s invaluable help.

Then Mario, not taking his eyes off Luigi’s, approaches him in two strides and gently pats his shoulder.

“See you later at home, Lu,” he says, a warm smile tattooed on his lips.

Luigi nods, feeling a little reassured by his brother’s familiar touch, and takes one hand off Daisy’s waist to place it on Mario’s shoulder.

And, for an instant, Luigi holds in his two hands the two most important people in his life and for who he would gladly give his last breath.

Not even realizing it, he tightens his grip around Daisy’s waist as he gives a light squeeze on Mario’s shoulder. His brother, after a final pat, slowly pulls away from him and turns towards the door.

Then Luigi realizes something.

“Mario,” he calls out to him, worried. “It’s raining. Didn’t you take your umbrella?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Lu,” Mario replies, waving his hand to play it down. “The pipe is quite close. I won’t have time to get wet.”

Luigi smiles and shakes his head slightly, resigned.

“You’ll catch a cold,” he scolds him affectionately.

“And then I’ll have two Moms instead of one, I know,” Mario says in the same tone, making both Luigi and Daisy giggle. “See you, lovebirds!”

And before Luigi or Daisy have time to answer him, he’s gone.

Luigi sighs, the resigned smile still on his lips. His brother will never change, and he adores him for that very reason.

Then he turns to Daisy, who also turns her face towards him at that instant, and they smile at each other, knowingly, their cheeks reddened. There’s something Luigi wants to ask her, but he doesn’t know how to broach the subject. Daisy, however, is faster in taking the initiative.

“Where were we?” she murmurs, running two fingers provocatively across his chest.

But Luigi, despite the embarrassment, despite the shudder of pleasure that runs up and down him, still needs to get something off his head, to ask her something about what she just declared in front of Mario.

“D-Daisy,” he mumbles, and rubs the back of his neck for the millionth time that night. “Th-that thing about... us being... y-you know... b-boyfriend and girlfriend... W-were you s-serious?”

“Absolutely,” she says without hesitation. “Unless you don’t want to, of course.”

“Yes!” Luigi shouts, almost at a faster speed than when they were at the pizzeria. “Y-yes, Daisy, I-I mean, o-of course I do, I...” He stops for a moment and takes a deep breath, trying to order the words he wants to pronounce. “Of course I want to go out with you, Daisy. I-I r-really l-like... you.”

She laughs softly, a bit blushed, and bites her lower lip, still running her fingers down his chest and sending shivers down his spine.

“I really like you too, Luigi,” she confesses, her voice a faint whisper. “You’re... so sweet. In every way.”

She places a tender kiss on Luigi’s lips, which makes his heart skip a beat. But before he can reciprocate, she pulls away for a moment and looks at him with sparkling eyes.

“See you tomorrow, my sweet Green Bean?”

Luigi jumps at the affectionate appellation and flushes again, but finds that he likes, no, he loves it that Daisy addresses him that way. A smile blossoms on his face and his grip around her waist tightens.

“I’m looking forward to it, my Desert Princess.”

She grins and, to Luigi’s surprise, reddens too. Captivated, he caresses her cheek as she watches him intently. Then he slides his hand into her beautiful, velvety auburn hair, taking care not to drop the purple daisy, and she cups his face again. And, lost in each other’s eyes, they lean in until their lips meet once more.

But this kiss, even if it is also intense and sweet and deep and passionate and intoxicating, tastes like a farewell.

“I’m already counting the hours until we meet again,” Luigi murmurs, pulling away for a second, only to kiss her again as soon as he finishes speaking, with greater intensity and passion.

“I was about to tell you the same thing,” she replies, resuming the kiss a second later.

And they kiss, and kiss, and kiss, and his hands stroke her waist and her mane, and hers get lost in his tousled hair and encircle his neck, and their tongues dance a dance that both would like to last forever.

And in that moment, not being aware of it, they both inwardly promise themselves the same thing.

That, someday, it will be.

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