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peaches2217 · 4 months

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The Man in Red

~~~

Every year for the past six years had been largely the same. The month before Christmas, the townstoads of Toad Town began draping lights from every surface, every tree, every building, and vendors came from all corners of the country to set up temporary shops for those seeking the perfect gifts. Two weeks before Christmas, a giant fake fir was raised in the town square; Toads of all ages gathered to decorate it in handmade ornaments and shimmering, colorful garlands, and the tree became an unofficial symbol of the Mushroom Kingdom’s prosperity and the unity of its citizens.

Seven days before Christmas, a very special guest arrived and set up shop at the base of that very tree. This was the part that excited the children the most, because this man, all decked in red velvet and white wool and black leather boots and belt, would give them candy and listen with a patient ear as they prattled one after another about their Christmas wishes.

Watching that man in red as he entertained a massive hoard of sugar-addled children, each and every tiny face alight in glee, Peach couldn’t believe Christmas itself had been a tradition unheard of in her world not even a decade ago. Everything about it felt so right, as though her people had been celebrating it since long before she was born.

Nodding to her guards, she broke from her walk to pay the man of the hour a visit.

“Why, if it isn’t our friend Santa Claus!” she greeted, older Toads parting automatically for her (and pulling the more clueless youngsters out of her path, though she still had to step around a handful of them).

‘Santa’ looked up at her as he carefully lowered a child from his lap, and Peach almost tripped over her own feet. His deep blue eyes shone brilliantly in the lights of the square, like hand-blown glass that caught the sun just so. For that matter, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t known those eyes a decade ago. The mere thought of living in a world where she had never met his gaze chilled her more than the cold ever could.

Overwhelmed by the sudden burst of sentiment, Peach stopped to recompose herself internally. She was mercifully spared from having to save face too hastily.

“The beautiful Queen Peach!” Santa stood from where he sat and met her halfway with wide, confident strides. With a theatrical bow, he took her left hand, lowered himself onto one knee, and kissed the pale sapphire ring on her fourth finger.

The sight brought Peach out of her sentimental spell and cheered her considerably. This role suited him so well. For all of his many, many, many accomplishments, none brought him greater joy than bringing joy to others. “It’s an honor to welcome you back to the Mushroom Kingdom, Mr. Claus.”

“Oh, no, the honor’s all mine.”

Peach bit her lower lip in an effort to suppress her amusement. This was the same every year, too: he hid his instantly recognizable voice behind an accent not dissimilar to the Standard accent, but with harder consonants and exaggerated vowel shapes and disregard for the letter r, so that his pleasantry sounded something like Dee anah’s oo-wall mine.

The native accent of Brooklyn, his kingdom of birth, he had once explained, which he would probably speak with naturally had he been born into a Standard (or “English,” as it was called there)-speaking household. It was undoubtedly charming, but she much preferred the merry and melodic lilt he spoke with the other 364 days of the year. Call it bias.

‘Santa’ finally stood and dusted the snow from his pant legs, though he didn’t relinquish Peach’s hand, nor did he look away from her. “Now! You’re here to make a wish, yeah?” And then he winked, quickly enough that she was sure no one else caught it.

Showtime. Peach dipped her head in acknowledgement.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t!” She easily disguised her secret affirmative gesture as an act of humility with a palm to her cheek. “Christmas wishes should be saved for the children.”

“Oh-ho, Your Majesty, there’s plenty enough Christmas magic to go around! Anyone can make a wish.” He twisted his torso to address the growing crowd. “Right?”

Cheers rose all around them, children shouting their encouragements and clapping in excitement and adults watching on with fond faces, some even joining in. The man in red’s eyes sparkled brilliantly once more at the response. He did so love performing to an audience. It had taken Peach a bit longer to grow accustomed to.

She made a show of conceding, sighing in good humor and letting herself be led to the plush chair where children shared their greatest wishes. The townstoads giggled in delight at the sight of their very regal, very tall queen making herself comfortable on Santa’s lap, and just for their sake, she took a moment to dramatically smooth her skirts and correct her posture, her unnecessary formalities drawing even more mirth from the crowd.

A strong and steady hand pressed into her lower back, hidden from sight by her shawl. With her the sole center of attention, her Santa made no effort to disguise the affection that fell naturally across his features. The night chill was no match for the warmth his gaze provided her.

“Peach Toadstool, Queen Regent of the beautiful and prosperous Mushroom Kingdom—” and at this she barely suppressed a chuckle, because she knew how needlessly long-winded he felt such formal titles were, yet he said it so convincingly all the same, “—what would you like for Christmas?”

Peach pressed her palms together and hummed in mock-contemplation. The crowd fell quiet, save for a few children shouting out suggestions (“A golden Yoshi that poops coins!” being her personal favorite), and she let the tension dance on the air a moment longer.

“Well,” she began at last, “to tell you the truth, I’m not sure what more I could possibly ask for. I’m blessed with everything a royal could ever want. A kingdom in peacetime, a thriving populace, devoted friends and family…” She turned her eyes to a distant but well-lit alleyway, resting her right hand over her heart with a gentle smile. “...a husband I love very much…”

Her smile grew at the quiet huff this drew from her Santa. When she returned her attention to him, his cheeks glowed a rosy hue, the white polyester of his beard making the color look luminescent.

She wanted to pull that silly accessory down and kiss him for all the world to see. The thought of traumatized children with shattered dreams and their exasperated parents forced to take them home and comfort them was the only thing stopping her.

“There is one thing I’d like, I suppose.” She gestured to their surroundings, eyes flickering between the colorful displays strewn about. “I’d like to see the lights of Toad Town from afar, so I can take in their beauty in one fell swoop. That’s my wish this year.”

Oohs and aahs rang out now, as well as scattered voices expressing approval or whispering to their loved ones that they should do the same.

More cheers sounded as Peach stood back to her feet and bade the townstoads a Merry Christmas. If she stayed any longer, she feared her heart might burst.

Santa escorted her to her entourage of guards, wishing her a warm and pleasant rest of her evening, then with one more kiss to the back of her hand, he made his way back to the reaccumulating line of children.

“Oh, and Santa?” Peach called after him.

He stopped immediately, as if he’d expected one last request, turning on his heel and trotting right back to her.

“I know he’s a very busy man,” she told him, her voice low, “but… if by any chance my husband could join me when I see the lights?”

Something new flickered across his features now, something uplifting in its brightness, and then he tapped his index finger to his nose with a resolute grin. “I’ll see what I can do.” was his equally hushed response, but it wasn’t delivered in the voice she attributed to Santa; he dropped his little act and spoke to her in the accent she was much more familiar with, a bouncy and gentle I’ll-a see what I ken-a do.

Peach felt light on her feet as she continued on her walk, that dulcet promise cycling endlessly through her head.

~~~

A thud from outside froze Peach’s hand mid-stitch.

No alarm bells rang in her head, no sense of dread overcame her, nothing of the sort. But only one person ever accessed the balcony from the outside with any regularity, and unless she had lost track of time, she was certain he was still in the town square. She stood and draped Luigi’s nearly-complete dress over the back of her chair, the needle dangling from its thread just above the seat cushion; with quiet steps, she crept toward the balcony door.

Why, oh why did she never think to hide a sword or a bat or a cast-iron pan near that door? Rarely did she ever occupy her chambers alone. Perhaps she’d grown too used to the feeling of safety.

“...Mario?” she called out.

A beat, then a muffled reply.

“No, no,” she heard from the other side of the door, “no Mario. It’s-a me, Santa Claus!”

Instantly her anxiety evaporated. Sure enough, when she opened the door, there he stood, snow clinging to the front of his velvet suit from his climb; he lifted his stocking cap to greet her, uncovering for the first time that night the deep brown curls on his head.

Peach was almost surprised at the childlike anticipation that bubbled up within her. He’d traded the fake Santa voice for his natural Italian accent, yet the rest of the act remained. What in the name of the stars was he up to?

“Oh! Santa!” She ushered him inside, trying not to shiver from the cold as he stomped the snow from his boots before following her in. Santa Claus duties usually kept him busy until just before midnight. Glancing at the grandfather clock opposite the bathroom door, she saw that midnight was still two hours away. “What are you doing here so early?”

“Ah, Your Majesty, it’s been such a long day! More wishes today than I’ve ever gotten. So I thought I’d get a head start on making all those wishes come true!” As he spoke, he made his way to their massive walk-in wardrobe and disappeared inside, fishing through her endless assortment of outfits. “And I knew this was the perfect place to start.”

The pieces began to fall into place, why he called it quits earlier than expected and came right back to her side, and already Peach felt her cheeks growing warm. “Oh?” she played along anyway. “And why start here?”

Finally, he emerged from the closet, Peach’s favorite snow boots dangling from his left hand and her warmest, fluffiest coat draped over the same shoulder. “Well I can’t keep the Queen waiting, can I?” he teased with a wink.

I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It went unspoken, but Peach understood all the same. She gratefully accepted the clothes he offered her, fastening the buttons of her coat while he knelt to lace her boots. When he was done, he beamed up at her, still balanced on one knee, and stars he was going to be the death of her…

“Where to, Santa?”

“To the roof.” He held his hand palm-up as he rose to his feet, and she took it without hesitation.

Within moments, they were racing through the winding corridors of the castle, laughing together in shared mischievous cheer. Peach didn’t even register the handful of confused glances thrown their way by newer members of the staff still unaccustomed to the sight. She let her feet follow him blindly through hallways and up tucked-away spiral staircases, thinking of nothing but his bright laugh and the heat of his hand in hers.

The cold air hit her like a slap to the face as she climbed through the rooftop’s trapdoor, and she squeezed his hand tighter as he led her to the spire jutting from the center of the sloped roof. He let go once they reached their destination, bending before her and lacing his fingers together, palms-up; she dutifully stepped into his conjoined hands and pushed off of the shingles with her opposite foot as he hoisted her up, scrambling onto the spire’s ledge with less elegance than she would have preferred, but managing all the same.

As he pulled himself up to sit beside her, she looked ahead, and though she already knew what she’d see, her breath was taken away.

She could truly see the whole of Toad Town from here. The square, its massive fir tree standing proud and tall above the buildings, ornaments twinkling from every angle; the vendors’ booths, still bustling with activity in spite of the late hour, friends and family and couples and kids gawking at homemade goods and sipping cocoa; the colorful fairy lights wound around mushroom-capped homes, illuminating every last inch of the town in a warm, welcoming glow. The rooftop was cold and dark, yet the sight before her radiated unprecedented warmth. Peach’s silly little wish, realized to the fullest.

A thousand words bubbled within her chest, words of glee and gratitude and general awe, yet as soon as she turned to share them, they died on her lips.

He was already staring up at her. In the residual light, his eyes sparkled even more brightly than they had in the town square; though his silky beard hid most of his face, she could tell from the crinkles around those gleaming eyes that he was smiling.

If only she could see him properly…

“Oh, Santa,” she said, “it’s beautiful. This is exactly what I wanted.” Then, with a wistful sigh, she turned her attention back to the festival of lights. “Well… almost exactly.”

A pause, and then: “Ah! That’s right! There was another part to your wish, wasn’t there?”

“Yes, there was.” Peach found one sight to focus on, the amusing ordeal of three children struggling to reign in their pet Chain Chomp as it chased what appeared to be a rabbit. “Truly, I can’t thank you enough for your thoughtfulness! But such a wonderful sight is best shared with someone you love, you know? It’s just too lonely otherwise. What I’d give to have—”

“Mamma mia, Peachy, what are you doing out here all on your own? You must be freezing!”

The corners of her lips drew into a jaw-splitting grin.

The beard now hung limply around his neck, and finally she could see that tender smile in its full glory, only partially hidden beneath his thick mustache. Mario had, at some point during her monologuing, unbuckled his belt and begun shucking his coat, and he shrugged out of it as soon as the last button popped open at his fingertips.

“Oh! Mario!” She didn’t even try to hold back; she giggled openly in pure levity. “When did you get here?”

Mario hummed tunelessly as he draped his costume’s coat over her shoulders, drawing the woolen collar as high up her neck as it would sit. “Just got here. I passed some good-looking guy with a beard in the hall and he said I’d find you on the roof. Of all places!”

Satisfied that she was now perfectly warm (even though he wore nothing beneath the coat beyond a short-sleeved white undershirt), he pulled his legs up onto the ledge and sat on his knees, so that their faces were closer to level. “So what are you doing up here, amore?”

He looked entirely too proud of himself. They were like children themselves, Peach found herself thinking more than once, playing nonsensical games with no clear goal in mind, for no other reason than the fun of it. We all have to get older, sure, but who says we have to grow up? he’d once propositioned to her.

Having been forced to grow up into a responsible leader far too quickly — having spent most of her formative years under a pressure even the most capable of adults would find too intense — these little games meant more to Peach than she ever had the nerve to let on.

“Actually, I was waiting for you.”

“Oh? Good timing then!” He patted his thigh, a clear invitation, and one she was all too happy to accept. She drew her legs onto the ledge as well so she could comfortably recline against him, laying her head in his lap as he readjusted his coat over her. The lights of Toad Town looked even more vibrant with him there, as himself.

“I gotta say,” Mario said as she admired the lights, “this is the most incredible sight I’ve ever seen.”

Peach nuzzled into the soft fabric of his pants with a sigh. She didn’t even have to see his face to know he was looking straight at her. She could tell from the tone of his voice alone, playful and sugary sweet.

They remained there in companionable silence for a while longer, watching as the townstoads carried on with their night. How she could see them in movement yet still feel so certain that she and her man in red were the only two people in the galaxy, Peach was unsure, but she didn’t suppose it was a bad thing.

#I warned y'all! I warned y'all this would be corny even for me!#I am not even the slightest bit sorry. hashtag character development #super mario bros #smb #mario #princess peach #mario x peach #mareach #peaches' fancy fics

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blushweddinggowns · 1 year

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#12, ugly Christmas sweaters, please.

Eddie, unsurprisingly, was not a huge fan of Christmas. He didn’t really hate it per say, at least not anymore. Sure, from ages one to twelve they were pretty hellish, but ever since he came to live with Wayne, Christmas was kinda nice.

They were broke as fuck, so it’s not like Eddie ever had much under the tree, but Wayne would always scrounge up enough to get him a few things. He’d also make the best chocolate chip pancakes ever, their own version of Christmas dinner, which was secretly Eddie’s favorite part.

Twelve years of bad holidays and nine of good equated to Eddie being relatively neutral about the whole thing. His ambivalence on the holiday had never been much of an issue.

Until now.

Because Eddie decided to fall for a man who had a Christmas-obsessive best friend. A Christmas-obsessed best friend that had his boyfriend wrapped around her finger.

Technically, Steve had warned him about this. But he didn’t expect her antics to start in November. Because apparently, the planning for a holiday ugly sweater party with homemade ugly sweaters was extensive. At first, Eddie was certain it was an idea she randomly had while high as a kite, but no, it was a Buckley family tradition. And this year, Robin decided that their little group of weirdos were officially part of the family.

And that sentiment was too adorable for even Eddie to make fun of. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. Because the making of twelve ugly sweaters included the enlistment of Steve’s help, and the enlistment of Steve's help meant that Eddie wasn't allowed to completely hog his weekends anymore.

The guy was learning how to knit for this fucking thing, and that took time. Hell, even when he got to see him, Steve brought the knitting needles with him, and Eddie had to fight with freaking yarn to get his attention. And it was a losing battle. Steve always shut down any complaining, with some variation of the speech, "Babe, I got her kidnapped by Russians and almost eaten by demons. All in less than two years. The least I can do for her is knit a damn sweater."

Not to mention how he was so weirdly secretive about the whole thing. Anytime Eddie tried to get a look at what he was doing he was rebuffed, and Steve had had the audacity to kick him out of his own living room more than once.

But the day before the party finally arrived, and it marked the end of Steve's obsessive knitting tear. Eddie thought he'd be relieved the whole thing was over, but he'd been fidgety and anxious all night.

Eddie was just on the edge of teasing him over being such a nervous wreck over sweaters when Steve stood from the couch, nervously announcing that he had something for him.

He dug behind a couch cushion, pulling out a cheap little green gift bag with bright red tissue paper. He dropped it into Eddie's lap with a nervous smile, "Open it."

Eddie felt the bag up with a smile, immediately guessing what it was.

“I thought the Buckley tradition was to open them in a group?” Eddie asked, tearing away at the tissue paper, "Did you get Robin's permission for a holiday transgression?"

Steve shrugged, chewing his nails while he watched Eddie pull it out, “Well, she helped me make it so she's vaguely aware. But…I want you to see it now. Uh, without an audience.”

It was every Christmas color jammed into one ugly sweater. Red, green, white, and blue, all in horizontal stripes. It was impressively bad and Eddie was more than ready to start laughing at it.

But then he turned it around.

The bright red words were knitted in sloppily, but they were clear enough to make Eddie's jaw drop.

I Love You Eddie Munson

Eddie stared at it, mind coming to a complete halt. They...hadn't said that to each other yet. Eddie had thought it sure, probably a million times by now, but he had been too chicken shit to say it out loud himself, always worried about scaring Steve away.

But here it was, staring him in the face.

Steve was gnawing on his lower lip as watched him stare at it, getting more and more anxious by the second, “I-I thought it would be…endearing? But you don’t have to say anything back! It was a stupid- idea.”

"This is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen,” Eddie interrupted, embarrassingly close to tears, “I have never wanted to hate something more.”

He clutched it to his chest, looking up at Steve with a wet laugh, “I love it. I love you, you fucking dork.”

Steve grinned back at him, obviously relieved.

"It took me like a month to make. You better like it!" He laughed, pulling Eddie into a hug, "And I promise, you only have to wear it once."

Eddie shook his head against Steve's shoulder, still holding onto his new favorite piece of clothing for dear life.

That little shake was the only warning Steve was going to get, because if he thought that Eddie was going to only wear it for Christmas parties, then he had another thing coming.

The I love you sweater became a winter wardrobe regular for years to come, clashing colors be damned. Eddie ignored all offers Steve made to make one that wasn't hideous and never missed a chance to explain what it meant to anyone who asked.

But despite how much Eddie loved it, Robin was the real winner of the gift. Because Eddie never complained about her kidnapping Steve during the holidays again.

#steddie ficlet #steddie #i am an embarssing corny person and im sorry #i can't not do the fluff #thank you for requesting!#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddiemas #i got a little loose with the prompt but an ugly sweater is featured!

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