On any normal day, Princess Peach would wake up to the sound of birds chirping. Years of being kidnapped had made her a light sleeper, and even the most delicate of sounds will cause her to wake. Today, however, she slips out of unconsciousness to the sound of Toadsworth’s voice, as he calls for her outside the door.
“Princess?” her attendant says, knocking the door with his cane. “Are you in there? It’s nearly ten o’clock!”
Is it really that late...? Peach thinks to herself, rolling over to glance at her clock. Sure enough, Toadsworth is right - ten minutes to the hour.
“Door’s open, come in,” Peach answers groggily, sitting up with the covers still draping her legs. Her door is always open in case of emergencies, but any toad in the castle knows that just barging in would be terribly impolite.
Toadsworth gently closes the door behind him, pressing his vest to his sides. “I know you don’t have any plans today, Princess, but it would be in your best interest to have some breakfast in the dining hall. As they say, breakfast is the most important meal of the day!”
“Mhm,” Peach mumbles, half agreeing. Truly, she wishes he’d just go away, but staying in your room all day isn’t exactly an option when you’re in a castle full of attendants. Peach groggily pulls the comforter off of her, sighing as she slowly opens her eyes.
“I do suppose you’ll be getting dressed now, hm? I’ll be going, then. I’ll be seeing you!”
Toadsworth leaves, shutting the door a bit too loudly. (She can’t entirely blame him though, his hearing hasn’t been the best in recent years.) Not wanting to deal with the possibility of him returning, Peach swings her legs off of the bed, wondering what she’ll wear for breakfast.
The second she finds herself alone, Peach slinks back into her room. She slips the pink ballet flats off, along with her leggings. They’re too tight anyway - she should order some new ones.
The first time Toadsworth saw her at breakfast in an oversized t-shirt, he had nearly fallen over from shock. Peach had been able to convince him that it was a fashion statement with a bit of help from Daisy, even though she really just wanted to be comfy.
Speaking of Daisy, she hasn’t been to the castle in a while... Maybe she’d like to pay a visit?
Parking herself at the edge of her bed, Peach picks up her phone. She isn't a frequent caller (she'll usually go for a text instead) but she finds herself compelled to actually talk her friend. And so she pulls up her contacts and clicks the telephone shaped button next to Daisy’s name.
“Yello? Peaches? What’s up?” Daisy answers, her voice muffled through the phone speakers.
“Hi Daisy,” Peach says, kicking her legs against the sides of her mattress. The lack of inflection in her voice catches her off guard - does she usually sound this disinterested? Is she really that out of it?
There’s a few seconds of silence before Peach realizes that she never quite finished her sentence.
“I was wondering if you’d like to come over? Today? I know it’s a bit sudden but-“
“Oh thank God,” Daisy says, cutting her off on the other end of the line. “I was looking for an excuse to skip the gym today.”
“Oh really? Um, do you think you could come over in an hour or two?”
Peach hears some clinking from her speakers. If she had to guess, Daisy’s in the bathroom.
“Sure! I’m almost done curling my hair. What time is it?”
“It’s eleven thirty-two.”
“Oh, uh, thanks,” Daisy replies. She had intended to go to her phone’s home screen to answer the question herself, not expecting Peach to beat her to it. “I’ll be there by one?”
“Sounds good to me!”
“Okay! Later, Peaches!” Daisy chirps, hanging up without missing a beat. Peach wonders how she’s able to do that.
Sighing, she puts her phone on her nightstand, shimmying back into her unmade bed.
Off days might be what most people look forward to, but, truth be told, Peach has started to develop a distaste for them. No kingdom catastrophes to tend to leaves you with lots of time to think. And for Peach, lots of time to think means she’ll come back to the thought of why she isn’t yet married to Mario.
He’d asked to be her girlfriend when she was nineteen - he was twenty-one, then. She’d rejected him - she’d said she was “too young,” and that she “wasn’t ready.”
He’d tried again, two years later. She was twenty-one. Granted, Bowser had been there, and the two of them had been having a petty fight, but perhaps it was that moment she wanted him the least.
Now she’s twenty-three and single. And it’s only been five minutes since she hung up the phone.
Eventually, Peach’s phone chirps. There is activity in front of your door.
Fumbling, the princess reaches at her bedside table, palming it haphazardly until she feels her TV remote in her hand. She switches the television from “TV” to “Monitor” and hits the button for channel three. From her monitor, she can see Daisy - a light yellow top with ruffled sleeves, baggy orange shorts, and matching orange Mary Janes with wooden heels. A tan crossbody bag drapes over her shoulder.
“Come in,” Peach says, holding the record button on the remote. A few seconds later and it looks like she’s gotten the message. She reaches for the door handle, only to be greeted by a small yellow toad pushing the door open with all his might.
“Whoa, hey there, buddy,” Daisy greets him, surprised. “I got this,” she says, taking the rim of the door and swinging it open. The toad, caught off guard, loses his balance and falls flat on his face.
“Shit!” Daisy swears before she can catch herself, and she picks the little guy up, holding him in her arms. “You okay?”
“Mhm,” the toad grumbles, not meeting her eyes. Daisy sets him gently on the ground.
“You go back to whatever you were doing. I can get the doors myself. We don’t want you getting hurt. Got it?”
“Yes, Princess,” the toad says, as if apologizing from stealing the last cookie from the cookie jar.
“Daisy’s fine,” she says, patting the toad on his cap. He smiles a bit. Standing back up, she makes her way to Peach’s room, the way she always does when she visits, but not before waving goodbye to the toad.
Before Daisy can let out so much as a “hey,” Peach’s arms wrap themselves around her, body pressing into her like her life depends on it. If she were any more forceful, she would have sent her toppling over, but instead Daisy finds herself in one of those teeter-tottering hugs, balance shifting between the balls of Peach’s feet and her own as they sway back and forth. It’s a needy hug, and something tells Daisy she shouldn’t break it, so she looks out toward the wall as she speaks.
It’s Peach who ends the hug, her arms almost hovering at Daisy’s sides as she sinks back into herself. It’s like she’s been given a time limit, and it’s now expired, and her arms long to keep clutching but she can’t.
“What’s up? You don’t sound too great.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Daisy,” Peach hums. “I don’t know.”
“You’re not sick, are you?” Daisy asks, opting to rest her hands on Peach’s shoulders. Peach’s forearms raise momentarily, as if she’s trying to will them against clinging onto the girl standing in front of her.
“It’s okay,” Daisy says softly, and it’s as if Peach gives up, fingers lightly holding onto the redhead’s waist.
“I just... You remember Luigi?”
“Dude, Luigi’s still alive. He Snapchatted me this morning.”
“No, I mean- That came out wrong,” Peach replies, fumbling over her words. “I mean, do you remember a few months ago? When Luigi came out?”
“Ooooooooh,” Daisy says, “yeah. What about it?”
“It’s...” Peach starts, taking a moment to think, “I’ve always known guys can love guys, and girls can love girls, but seeing it happen to one of my friends made it felt real, you know? Like it was confirmation that that wasn’t made up.”
“And it just... it really put into perspective just how long I’ve been waiting to fall in love with Mario.”
“Wait,” Daisy says, furrowing your brows, “you aren’t in love with Mario?”
“Well, coulda fooled me.”
“Really?” Peach asks. It’s a genuine question. She’s never talked about going on a date with Mario. Psuedo-dates, maybe, but nothing she’d inherently call romantic.
“I just kinda assumed you were a private person,” Daisy says, “like, you take the whole ‘Princess’ thing pretty seriously, so I assumed you just kept it really private for like, your mental health I guess? To keep it outta the news?”
That makes sense.
“But just, man, you really aren’t in love with him? That’s like, a lot to take in...” Daisy says, trying to fill in the blanks left by Peach’s silences. “Why’re you talking to me about it?”
“Daisy,” Peach says, with one of those looks that only she can understand, “you’re my best friend.”
“And Luigi’s ex-girlfriend.”
“You think Rosie is gonna come give me love advice?”
“Touché,” Daisy retorts, hands now crossed and index finger tapping against her forearm.
“I’ve been waiting so long to fall in love with Mario, and it just never happens. Sometimes I feel like it’s so close, but then once he flirts with me even a little bit it doesn’t feel right, it feels like I’m lying somehow...”
“Hmmmm...” Daisy starts, her finger tapping intensifying. “Yeah,” she says, opening her eyes and giving Peach a stare, “you’re just not in love with him.”
“I mean, like, it could happen, but it’s been like, what, five years?”
“Okay, six. Whatever. If you’re suddenly head over heels for Mario, you can tell me I’m wrong, but what I’m saying is that you just aren’t into him, and forcing yourself to be ‘in love’ with him is just gonna make you feel worse.”
Peach knows everything she’s being told, but being told so by a real voice and not the one inside her head is harder to digest. “I don’t know what I want, Daisy.”
Daisy stops for a moment. She’s gonna have to think of something good. If she were Peach, what would she-
“Sometimes I wish I could just marry you.”
“Huh?” Daisy says, shocked. “You mean that?”
“I mean, it’d be so much easier, you know? You’re already a princess, so there wouldn’t have to be any coronations or anything, and we’re already best friends, and it’d give me an excuse to visit your kingdom more-“
“Okay then. Marry me.”
“But I can’t just marry you,” Peach whines, “there’s no falling in love. There’s no.... there’s no- what’s the word- yearning? There’s no yearning.”
“Peaches. Peach,” Daisy says, dropping the nickname, holding her buy her upper arms. “Love doesn’t have to hit you like a truck. It’s... it’s gradual, sometimes,” she says, releasing her, “like, it doesn’t have to be ‘Oh, I’m in love!’ It can just be ‘Oh, I’m in love,’ you know?”
Peach doesn’t seem to get it, even with the changes in inflection. She looks disappointed, sad even.
“Oh, uh, sorry, did I say something wrong?”
“No, just... I don’t know. I don’t know what I want anymore,” Peach admits, sighing. “It’s like I don’t even know how to be in love. Like I don’t even know how to show affection.”
“You’re probably just tired,” Daisy replies, stretching. “A nap might help you think straight.”
“Maybe,” Peach says, possibly in an effort to deflect the question, as she closes her eyes and snuggles into the left side of her bed. It’s massive, befit for a queen, and Peach has confessed that she doesn’t need something so huge multiple times, but apparently Toadsworth insists upon it. Something about “back support” or whatever. Daisy does think it’s a bit odd - usually you’d opt to sleep in the middle of the bed if you’re alone, but Peach seems perfectly content with being to the side. Almost like she’s expecting someone to climb on in with her.
“Well, uh, if you’re gonna take a nap, I’ll just let you be-“
“No, stay,” Peach groans, a childish tinge to her voice as she stretches out the words.
Even though Daisy can put two and two together, she sits on a nearby footstool just in case. She never was that good at math, anyway.
“Sleep with me.”
“Is someone biting off more than she can chew?” Daisy says, teasingly.
Peach grumbles. “Like actual sleeping.”
“Alright, alright. I’m coming in.”
Once she's finished unbuckling her shoes, Daisy makes her way into the bed, leaving a fair distance between herself and Peach. She rolls over so that her back faces the other girl, and she waits. And waits. And waits.
“Hey, Peach?” Daisy says, rolling on her back and looking up and taking in the flower-patterned ceiling after several minutes of uneventful silence.
“I dunno if this is entirely correct or whatever, but I’ve got a theory.”
“A game theory?” Peach replies, referencing a joke Daisy used to make all the time a few years ago.
“Yeah,” Daisy chortles, “a game theory.”
“Have at it.”
“Okay, so, this is just a hunch or whatever, but, I think you’re holding back on your feelings.”
“Is that all?”
“Well... I feel like, you’re always thinking stuff like, ‘I’m a princess. All I should want is a safe, prosperous kingdom. Anything beyond that is simply extraneous,’ or like, however you’d word it in fancy people talk. Like, you don’t let yourself want things. I dunno exactly where toads come from, but I know for a fact that you’re human, and having desires is perfectly natural! You’ve got a door on your room for a reason! You don’t have to be so- so cooped up, ya know?” Daisy tirades. Her pitch rises with her convictions.
“Sorry for yelling,” she laments just seconds later, exhaling as she lets her energy go. “I’m just worried. Worried that you’re gonna explode if you keep it all to yourself all the time.”
“Yeah,” Peach replies, noting the tick of the grandfather clock down the hall.
“So like... if there’s something you wanna do right now, no matter how wild, tell me. And we’ll do it.”
“I wanna take my shirt off.”
“Oh, uh, okay. Not what I expected but-“
Peach is already gripping the hem of her shirt, arms crossed as she lifts the fabric over her head. Daisy’s seen Peach’s boobs before - she’s always been rather fond of beach trips - but seeing her friend expose herself in such an intimate way makes her heart pound. She suppresses the urge to say anything about it.
“I’ve been gaining a little weight lately... I feel like my stomach sticks out too much...” Peach says, sighing as she pokes her stomach with her index finger.
Daisy props herself up on her arm, holding her head in the side of her palm. “Peach, that’s normal. All girls have that.”
“...I feel so selfish,” Peach follows up, after what feels like an eternity of silence. “I just want to be held. I want to feel someone’s skin on mine... to tap my fingers on someone’s back...”
“Me too,” Daisy agrees.
“And, I mean, I love Mario! I love him so much! But I don’t love him. I don’t want to touch him like that. I just want things to stay the same forever, but I also want them to change dramatically and-“
“You talk too much.”
“I know,” Peach replies, flopping onto the bed, “I know.”
“Hey. If you want, I could cuddle with you.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“Alright,” Daisy says, shimmying closer to her friend, “here comes Daisy.”
Daisy’s arms wrap around Peach’s bare abdomen, fingers flexed so that they just barely intertwine. Daisy drums all of her fingers, thumbs excluded, on Peach’s stomach, the pads of her fingers lightly dancing on Peach’s skin.
“Mmm,” Peach affirms, not even opening her mouth. Her stomach lightly rises as she breathes through her nose.
“Cool. Tell me if you want me to stop.”
For a moment, Peach doesn’t answer. But then, she does.
“How do my breasts feel?”
“Your boobs?” Daisy asks, her fingers suddenly stopping. “I mean, I can, but, I just didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”
Daisy feels her fingers being lifted as Peach takes in a deep breath.
“I want you to touch me, Daisy.”
“Yes, Daisy, I am.”
“Alright, alright, I gotcha,” Daisy says, letting her hands snake up Peach’s torso. Before she can even touch her breasts, Daisy lets her fingers marvel at the bra underneath her fingertips - intricate lace atop cups that perfectly hold Peach’s chest. She can’t help but cringe a little at the underwire, though - she’s so glad she can get away without having them.
Seconds later, her fingers arrive at the top of Peach’s chest. They lightly press into the skin that’s not being covered by the bra.
“They’re soft,” Daisy says, answering Peach’s initial question from earlier. She uses her index, middle, and ring fingers on both her hands to massage the sides of each breast, centimeters away from where they crease in the middle.
“You can take my bra off, if you want,” Peach says, “I’m sure.”
Taking her certainty as cue, Daisy momentarily brings her hands around to Peach’s back. She fumbles with the clasp from underneath the covers, only to curse and lift the blankets up so she can see.
“I hate these clasp things,” Daisy groans, finally unhooking the mechanism, “I can never get them unless I’m looking right at them.”
“I usually clasp it in the front and then twist it around.”
“Too much work.”
“Then how do you put them on?”
“I just treat ‘em like shirts,” Daisy says proudly, “they stay clasped even in the wash.”
“Wow,” Peach mutters, as Daisy helps her slip her arms through the straps, “that totally sounds like something you’d do.”
Daisy ends the conversation with a laugh, tucking both herself and Peach into the covers once again. She cups Peach’s breasts from underneath, using her thumbs to squeeze them from the sides.
“I’m only a C-Cup,” Peach confides, sighing. “I’m not that big.”
“Well, I think they’re nice,” Daisy says, sighing herself as she perches her chin on Peach’s neck. “Warm, too.”
They stay like that, for a while, Daisy experimentally holding Peach’s chest while snuggling up against her, as Peach sinks into Daisy’s touch. Silence envelops them until Peach starts giggling, which causes Daisy to slow her hands.
“Thank you, Daisy, for indulging me in something so silly.”
“It’s not silly,” Daisy says, continuing to rub Peach’s breasts. “But of course.”
“I think it’s time I pay you back.”
It all happens in just a few seconds. Peach looming just inches over Daisy, Daisy flat on her back. Daisy can’t help but laugh from the recesses of her throat, smirking as her eyelids crinkle into something of an “eye smile.”
“Mind if I take this off?” Peach asks, grabbing at the bottom hem of Daisy’s shirt.
“Go for it.”
And so she does, taking the fabric into her manicured hands. She pulls the shirt up painfully slow, and by the time she reaches Daisy’s shoulders Daisy is eagerly shaking out of it.
“God, Peach, you’re such a tease.”
“I know,” Peach says, smiling.
Above her, Daisy takes in just how gentle Peach looks. Her lips are never cracked, her brows are never overgrown, and her face looks absolutely clear. Daisy’s one of the few people that knows that the Princess of the Mushroom Kingdom does, in fact, get pimples, but today there are none to be seen.
It takes her a few seconds to realize that Peach’s face is actually coming closer to hers, and when she does, she can feel her heart race all the way up to her throat. Is she going to kiss her? Sure, Daisy may have wanted this for years, but is it really happening? Oh, God, she needs to breathe-
Daisy feels lips press into her cheekbone. Once, then twice, and then again and again. Peach moves each time, but only a little bit.
“What are you doing?” Daisy asks between laughs, watching as Peach gets into a rhythm, pecking at her skin with her lips.
“I’m kissing your freckles.”
“We’re gonna be here all day if you keep doing that.”
“I don’t mind,” Peach chirps, “I’ve always wanted to.”
“Is that so?” Daisy asks, her voice twinged with just a bit of cockiness.
Peach stops for a moment. “Can I confess something?”
“Back when I first met you - when I first noticed that you had all these freckles - I wanted to take a marker and connect all the dots,” Peach admits, “I wanted to see if I could find any constellations.”
“That is the corniest thing I have ever heard,” Daisy admits, monotone. “I love it.”
“Can I say something cornier?”
“Is it ‘I love you?’”
“You guessed it.”
With Daisy distracted, she goes in for the kill: a kiss on the lips. It’s a chaste one - nothing more than two sets of lips touching, but she feels Daisy press her own lips into hers. When they break, Daisy’s reeling.
“God,” she mutters, voice caught in the wind, “how did we get here?”
Peach lays down next to her, back to the mattress. “You said you’d cuddle me.”
“I know,” Daisy says, “I just... I just can’t believe we’re here. Like, you let me touch your boobs. And you kissed me! I thought you were straight a few hours ago!”
“They sure fuckin’ do.”
“Daisy, language!” Peach yelps, scolding her friend. Daisy chuckles. She can’t stay mad for long though, not with a face like that.
“Say,” Peach says, rolling over to face Daisy. Daisy herself rolls too, and they face each other side to side.
“Maybe not today, but... could we do more than this? More, um...”
Daisy knows what that blush means. “Yeah. When you’re ready.”
Smiling, Peach takes her hands around to hug Daisy’s back. Her fingers end up in the space between Daisy’s bra and her back.
"Can we take that nap now?" Peach asks, "the one we were talking about earlier?"
"Totally," Daisy replies, a yawn solidifying her agreement.
“I love you,” Peach whispers.
Daisy tangles her legs into Peach’s.
“And I love you too.”