#Just kissing someone and them being stuck with glittery gloss on their face

[drones-of-innocence]

Princess Peach purposefully applying the most pigmented and shimmery lip gloss the owns, knowing full well she'll be at a very formal event with Mario and will be able to find a reason to kiss him on the cheek at some point 🤭

...And Mario, flustered by her attention and confused by everyone's knowing looks, not noticing the very obvious kiss print until he gets home and sees it in a mirror 😆

[mintdrop]

Routines ;; 2008 words

Everyone has a routine; the same pattern of things they do every day, rarely diverting lest they upset the flow of their day-to-day habits -- a change often leading to feelings of anxiousness, as if something is off. For the warrior of light and the azure dragoon, it was no different. As Peppermint addressed dinner, Estinien would take the first bath of the evening; given that both of them had enough hair to hide a small creature (or in Mint’s case, several), they each needed more time than normal to attend to it. The Elezen didn’t take nearly as long as the Lalafell did, and was often ready by time supper was done -- he would take care of clean-up while Mint began fighting the battle against her hair. When she was done, he would help her comb it out, the two making idle small talk and simply enjoying each other’s company while it was brushed and braided into two buns atop her head.

Some days, an event would make their evening routine impossible.

Seeing that she was now a permanent resident of Ishgard, the warrior of light received a near-constant stream of invites to balls and parties, all held by the noble families that made the city-state what it is. While she didn’t mind them, Mint wasn’t one to attend each gala, often citing scion duties or previous engagements. It worked fairly well, but sometimes a remark would pass by Count Edmont’s ears; he would mention it in passing, and Mint would attend the next event if only to make sure the noble would be content for a bit. Estinien was her plus-one, to make sure that she wasn’t overwhelmed -- his cold gaze was good for scaring off those who would hound her with a stream of questions and requests.

Tonight was one such night, and the moment they had crossed the threshold to their small cottage, a sigh of relief was breathed in unison. The Lalafell stepped out of her heels the second the door had closed behind them, gently kicking them towards the nearby wall - she could put them away properly in the morning. “Perhaps next time, I’ll ask Tataru to help me put an outfit together around some boots…” She pulled off her coat as she dragged herself through the kitchen, draping it over one of the chairs that sat at the table. “Or maybe I’ll get lucky, and the next noble will throw some kind of pajama party.”

“As if the snooty nobles of Ishgard would be caught in anything less than their finest silks.” The Elezen snorted behind her, his coat somehow finding its way to the hook on the wall after a leisurely toss; unintended, but he’d say it was planned. Just as the two were to make their way downstairs, Estinien paused. “Totomi, wait. Didn’t Aymeric say he needed to give you something before you left?” He looked down at the Lalafell, whose face was clouding over with regret. “You didn’t see him before we departed, did you?”

“I… forgot.” The groan that filled the stairwell might as well have been classified as an undead wail as she turned on her heel. “I suppose he’s still there. I’ll go back.” She barely made it a step past Estinien before he stuck out his leg to block her path.

“I’ll go, it’ll be faster. I doubt it was something confidential if he was mentioning it there. You already look -- and sound -- like the spirit of a vengeful maiden.” His statement made Mint huff, and while he didn’t show it, he enjoyed her reaction to his tongue-in-cheek remark. “We don’t need you scaring random citizens in the streets. Take this time to soak your weary bones.” He nudged her back towards the stairs before turning back to the door, grabbing his coat once more.

She couldn’t muster any energy to argue it; she already knew she wouldn’t win, even if she wasn’t dead tired. “I’ll have your bath ready for you, then.” She called it out just as he closed the door before pulling herself down the stairs. With each step closer to the washroom, something was plucked from her hair -- mostly bobby pins. If you’d lined them up end-to-end, they might as well go from one end of Eorzea to the other. While she took caution in pulling off her dress (Tataru would give her an earful if it ended up wrinkled), everything else was thrown to the wind, and she thanked the Twelve that the two of them had such a large bathtub, though she supposed she should thank the fact that her partner was longer than he was wide and couldn’t fit in their old tub.

It took about an hour for Estinien to return; Aymeric had already left the party, and had to be tracked down back at the Congregation of Our Knights Most Heavenly. He’d felt bad that Estinien had come looking for him; he had simply wanted to give the warrior of light a gift from another party-goer who had been too shy to face her up-close -- nothing that couldn’t be done the day after. As he made his way downstairs, he tossed it to the Lalafell just as she turned to acknowledge his arrival, her hands fumbling to catch it as they freed themselves from the large braided bun she had finished pinning to her head. “A gift from a noble miss… something-or-other. I forgot her name.”

As Estinien made his way to the washroom -- the steam that greeted him when he opened the door was like his personal doorway to heaven, -- Mint opened the box; inside was a large hair bow, ornately decorated with all sorts of gemstones and glittery bits. It was beautiful! Whoever this noble miss something-or-other was, Mint would have to find out and thank her personally; ribbons were her favorite accessory. Closing the box back up as if to protect it from the evil dangers of cold Ishgardian air, she smiled before returning back to the task at hand; braiding the rest of her hair.

By time she had finished, Estinien emerged from the washroom, his sleepwear just barely clinging to his hips and his wet hair flayed over the towel that hung over his shoulders. Mint had seen him shirtless (or worse) countless times, yet she still tended to get rosy-cheeked whenever she saw him. But, just like those times, her eyes would gloss over the numerous scars that littered his physique, even more-so when his back was turned; just below his shoulder blades sat a scar that gave her goosebumps just to gaze at -- she couldn’t begin to imagine what had happened to cause it.

“Say, Estinien.. Can I comb your hair tonight?” The question caused an eyebrow to raise, and the Elezen stared at her as she scrambled to find an excuse other than the fact that she wanted a better look at his back; she very rarely got the chance because of how their nightly routine would go. “You always help me since I take the last bath! So, er..” She trailed off, her gaze dropping to her hands before she jumped to stand up. “It’s only fair! ...Right?”

The dragoon shrugged and took a seat at the edge of their shared bed, ever so slightly shifting with the mattress as the Lalafell jumped on and stood up, causing it to creak. Her hands reached around his neck to gently pull back his hair, the chill from their environment causing a shiver to run up his back as they met with the stark contrast of his still-warm skin. At first, the two spoke as they often did, snide remarks of the nobles at the party being met with giggles or gasps at how he could say such things so freely. He would admit that the feeling of someone else combing through the tangles of his hair felt.. different compared to when he did it by himself; nice, even. But after a few minutes, something felt off. The comb was running through his hair slower and slower, and the idle chatter from the woman behind him seemed to thin out into nothingness. “Totomi?”

The hairs on his neck stood on end as he felt her hand gently run over the scar that she’d been staring at earlier. “Estinien.. did it hurt?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and he fought the urge to sigh; she’d grown accustomed to the scars that sat upon his abdomen, but it never occurred to him that she’d never seen the other side. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted. “How many are from protecting me? Do you… do you regret any of them?” Her fingers fell into the dip of the scar as she spoke, as if trying to assess just how much of his flesh had been lost. He wanted to turn, to face her, but he already knew that she would ask him not to.

“If it were for you, I would take as many as needed to keep you safe.” He spoke matter-of-factly, as if he were answering a question designed for a child. “If it were my life for yours, I would--” His words were halted by a loud “Stop!”, and a small fist punching at his shoulder.

“Don’t! Don’t say that. Don’t ever.” Her voice shook, and her hand fell from his back as the dragoon spun to face her. Her head hung low, and her eyes were obscured by her bangs, but anyone could tell that tears were fighting to adorn her face. “I’d never forgive you. I would rather… I-it should be me that…” Her battle against her own emotions was lost, and tears spilled onto the blankets beneath them. Memories rushed back of the incident at the Vault, and she shook as Estinien took her face within his hands, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “I can’t heal the dead! So don’t ever die! I can save you if you’re not dead.”

Her words made no sense, but he understood what she was trying to convey. His face was apologetic, but he said nothing. He simply pulled her forward, kissing at her cheeks, her eyes -- anywhere there might have been tears. “I’m not so foolish as to go getting myself killed. It was a hypothetical; I’m sorry, Totomi.” Pressing their foreheads together, he let her cry, waiting until she let out a shaky sigh to press a kiss against her lips. “I’m not going anywhere. The scars are nothing but reminders of battles won. I can promise you that I did not even notice them when I was struck.”

Bringing her hands to wipe at her eyes, Mint nodded. She pulled apart from him, feeling sorry for herself that she had so easily begun to cry; was it because she was tired? For her own sake, she assumed so. She lifted the comb that she had been gripping onto -- her knuckles white from the force she’d put into keeping it in her grasp -- and gently ran it through the Elezen’s bangs. “I know. I’m sorry. I--”

He grabbed at her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. “Do not apologize; there is no reason to.” He pulled the comb from her hand, flinging it off to Twelve-knows-where along with the towel that had still sat upon his shoulders. “It’s late, and the air is starting to chill.” Not bothering to extinguish the already-dying flame of their fireplace, Estinien pulled himself onto the bed, bringing Mint with him towards the pillows. She said nothing, waiting until he had gotten himself comfortable within the blankets before laying down beside him, head resting between his bicep and chest. No more words were needed between the two, and though the Lalafell quickly slipped into slumber, her hand kept a tight grip on the Elezen’s. She wanted nothing more than to make sure he would still be there when she woke up.

[professional-benaddict]

Someone on a groupchat showed me a post that it said: "Make sure your sugar daddy takes the flu shot this year" and I need Peter being a little nurse and staying with Tony who caught the flu. Family friendly, if you want ;)

Im sksks I dont know what to say about what I wrote but heres a thing lmao

Sugar Daddy Tony, 18+ Sugar Baby Peter, sickfic, flu, whump, fluff, some silliness and Stephen and his Lamborghini

————————

”Steph?”

With a hum, the older man turned around to face Peter, but quickly fixed his gaze over to where the boy was pointing. They were stood in line at the store with a basket full of tissues, ingredients for chicken soup, cough drops and cold medicine. Stephen was holding the basket, even though Peter had protested that it was his boyfriend who was sick and that he should help out, the doctor had shushed him with a smirk and said how Peter’s hands will become rough if he carried too much heavy stuff. The boy had tried to pout and protest, but in the end he blushed a little. To be honest, he loved how everyone, not just Tony, treated him like a sugar baby.

”No.”

”Come on! It will cheer him up!”

”I’m not a nurse, but even I am offended by how horrible that outfit is. It’s unpractical and let alone unsanitary.”

”It’s just a costume, it’s just for fun, Doc.” Peter chirped, elbowing his friend teasingly in the ribs before stepping out of the line momentarily to grab the nurse outfit. Despite Stephen glaring at him as he returned, Peter placed the outfit in the basket the older man was holding. As a thank you, Peter stood up on his tip toes to plant a soft, but slightly sticky from lipgloss, kiss on the doctor’s cheek.

”You’ve become such a brat since you and Tony became a thing.” Stephen said, but there was no ill harm behind his words, nor did he move to wipe the glittery gloss from his cheek. Peter giggled.

The two of them made their way out the store quickly with their purchases and to the parking lot where Stephen had his Lamborghini parked. People might have thought that Stephen was a sugar daddy doing some shopping with his sugar baby, but that was not the reality. Still, they would have made a stunning pair. Climbing into the car and starting the roaring engine, Stephen began to drive Peter back to Tony’s place.

”You’ll call me if you need anything, all right? I won’t have you working yourself sick too by caring for him, you hear me?” Stephen said with some sternness as they started to get close to their destination.

”Yes, yes, Steph.” Peter assured with a chuckle as he drummed his fingers against his thigh along to the Pink Floyd that Stephen played on the speakers. Tony would kill him if he told him this, but in Peter’s mind Stephen had better taste in music than Tony.

”All right, here we are.” The doctor said as he pulled over to the entrance to the luxurious apartment building. ”You want me to help out with the stuff or cook the soup?”

”I thought you hated the nurse outfit and now you wanna come up and see it?” Peter laughed as he unbuckled his seatbelt and grabbed the bag from the backseat.

”Oh God! You’re gonna put it on right now?”

”Of course! Either way, you’ve helped more than enough, Doc, I can do the rest. Thank you.” Peter thanked and again, he leaned over to give Stephen a kiss on the cheek.

”Okay, then. Give the old man my love, yeah?”

”Will do!”

And with that Peter climbed out of the car and headed to the entrance. Flashing the guard by the door a smile, the boy was let into the building and he headed through the luxurious lobby to the golden elevators. One of Peter’s favourite guards was stood by the elevator and pushed the button before Peter could even greet him.

”How are you, Thomas?”

”Welcome back, Mr Parker.”

”Thomas, please, it’s Peter.”

”Sorry, sorry.” The guard chuckled and let Peter enter the elevator first before following him and pushing the button for the 56th floor. ”Oh, is Mr Stark sick?” Thomas asked as he saw the contents of the plastic bag, considering how transparent it was. However, he did not ask about the nurse outfit, which Peter was sure he had seen too.

”Yeah, he is. I’m going to nurse him back to health.”

”That’s very sweet of you. Call the lobby if you need anything, yeah? And wish Mr Stark a speedy recovery.” Thomas said with a friendly smile as the elevator slowed down and the doors slid open with a soft ding. Stepping out, Peter waved the guard goodbye.

”Thanks, Thomas.”

There were only three apartments on the 56th floor, considering how enormous they were. Tony had instructed Peter not to tease their two neighbours about how they had the best apartment out of the three, which of course the boy did not do. Peter found both Mr and Mrs Berg to be very friendly, although he did not see them often, but old Ms Wilson Peter was more than familiar with. He would often go visit her and help around in her apartment. As a thank you, she would often come around and give Peter and Tony some of her delicious pastries when she apparently made “too much on accident”.��

Pulling out his keycard, Peter entered the apartment and closed the door with his foot. Usually, he would have cried out to Tony by now that he was home, but considering how Tony was sick and probably sleeping, Peter entered quietly. After toeing off his shoes, he padded to the kitchen to put the food away. He decided to check on Tony first before putting on the outfit, just in case the old man was in a bad mood. Bringing the cough drops, cold medicine and a big glass of water with him, Peter headed down the hall to the master bedroom. 

The bedroom was nearly pitch black, only slightly illuminated by one stripe of sunlight that got in though the crack in the thick curtains. The air in the room was thick and heavy, with a hint of warm feverish sweetness. In the middle of the king sized bed, Tony was laying on his front, however his head was not on the pillow, but on the mattress. He was only dressed in boxers, breathing heavily and a little noisily, but that was due to his stuffed sinuses. The duvet around him was a mess as he probably pushed them off only to pull them back over himself with the hot and cold flashes from the fever. 

“Tony, babe…” Peter said gently, placing the glass and such on the bedside table before going to open the curtains a little. He could hear some stirring from the bed at the sudden brightness, but before he went to Tony he opened the window to let in some fresh air. “Tony…” 

“Mhmm…” A low groan was all Peter got in response, and just based on that he knew that Tony’s voice was different due to the swelling in this throat. Sitting onto the side of the bed, Peter brought a hand to the older man’s forehead. Glassy and red eyes met brighter ones and Peter smiled down at Tony. Luckily, Tony did not feel much warmer compared to when Peter had checked before heading to college earlier that morning. Still, he grabbed the thermometer from the bedside table and took the protective cover off. 

“Open up.” Peter instructed and the older man grunted a little as he turned onto his back before parting his lips so that the boy could place the thermometer under his tongue. 

“That’s my line.” Tony grumbled.

“Shhh, don’t talk or the reading won’t be accurate.” Peter shushed back, bringing a hand up to stroke at Tony’s toned stomach gently. 

They sat in silence while the thermometer took the reading, with only the autumn breeze whispering gently as it came through the window and freshened up the thick air in the room considerably. Eventually, the device beeped and Tony was about to lift his hand, but Peter was faster. 

“100,50. How are you feeling?” 

“Like I have 100,50 in fever.” Tony deadpanned back, only opening his eyes to slits and smirked just a little at the look Peter gave him. Clearing his throat a little, Tony tried again. “Head and throat hurts. More importantly however, how did the talk with your supervisor go? Did she approve your research question?” 

“You’re dehydrated, here.” Peter answered shortly, picking up the glass that he had brought and offering it to Tony. The older man grunted again as he sat up a little and with his free hand, Peter helped place a pillow behind his back. Once he had finished one-fourth of the glass, Peter handed him the two white pills that would bring down his fever, but instead of taking them, Tony stuck his tongue out. With a roll of his eyes and a chuckle, Peter placed the two pills on Tony’s tongue and watched as he swallowed them with some more water before putting it aside. As much as Peter pretended to be annoyed by Tony’s childish behaviour, it was a good sign and meant that he wasn’t seriously ill. 

“Now, tell me how the talk went.” 

“I went to school, but only to reschedule the talk to next week. I didn’t wanna spend too much time away from you so I called Stephen to pick me up and we went to the store to pick up some supplies. He sends his love by the way, as does Thomas.” 

“Thomas goggles too much at your ass.” Tony snapped back, to which Peter only giggled. “And what do you mean rescheduled? The first draft is due in two weeks you said. I’m an adult for Christ sake, I can deal with a cold, so you go back to school.”

“You’ve got the flu, babe.” Peter corrected. “You said your joints hurt this morning and that’s not a symptom of a cold, but the flu.”

“Whatever, whatever…” The older man grumbled and slipped down from his sitting position to lay back down. “What are you doing here then? Getting yourself sick too? Get out of here.” He argued and with a weak arm he gestured to the door. Before getting up, Peter patted Tony’s bare thigh and leaned over to kiss his temple. 

“I’ll make you some toast and tea, yeah? I also got stuff to make chicken soup later.” Peter said as he circled the bed to head out. All he got in response was a groan from Tony. 

Once Peter had the tea brewing and the toast in the toaster, his eyes fell upon the nurse outfit on the counter. Holding back excited giggles, Peter changed into it quickly before placing the toast and tea on a tray. Taking a deep breath, he began to head down the hall to the master bedroom again. 

“How’s my favourite patient?” Peter said huskily by the door, waiting until Tony lifted his head up to look at him. 

“Did my fever spike or are you wearing a cheap nurse outfit?”

(Smth like this maybe??)