#[throwing up] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

creative-caramel-coffee · 2 months

Text

Rich White Men Parties

Summary: Reader feels sick and Tony makes her go to the gala anyway. Pepper comes to your rescue.

TW: vomiting, swearing (once), fever, illness, not being believed, semi-nudity (consented)

Pairing: Pepper x Reader (platonic)

Words: 2k

A/n back at it with the marvel fics again!!!

You needed to show face. It was a fact, one tony had been reminding you of, all week. He knew you hated the gala, thats what you had skipped the last three of them. And now Tony had put his foot down.

On Tuesday he enlisted steve. The two of them had stated that if you skipped this gala, you would be benched from missions for a month

On Wednesday you had been feeling a little off. Chalking it up to a restless nights sleep you drank some more water and took a nap.

Thursday was when things started to go down hill. The water you drank had done nothing. Well … it made you need to pee more but that was it. You had a headache that would have probably taken down Thor.

By Thursday evening you felt like shit on a stick. Your head hurt, your eyes hurt, and your body ached all over. You had decided it was too much. Which was what led you to this point.

You were stood on the threshold of Tony’s lab, debating if this was worth it. You flipped the idea over in your mind like an omelette and decided to just bite the bullet.

You cleared your throat and stepped into the lab. However, that just made your throat hurt.

Tony’s eyes snapped up from his work bench. Peter was sat down on a stool nearby doing homework and his head lifted slowly to watch.

“Mr Stark?” You said timidly.

“Yes?” Tony responded seemingly already annoyed.

“I… I don’t think i can make it to the gala.” You began but he cut you off.

“I don’t wanna hear it L/n. You know the consequence, benched or gala.” He said and turned his eyes back to his work.

“But sir-“ you pressed, and he cut you off again which made you huff quietly.

“Parker? You don’t hear excuses, do you?” Tony asked peter childishly.

“Well sir-“ peter started.

“Never mind kid. Y/n the answers still no.” Tony said.

“Sir she doesn’t look so good.” Peter said taking in your sickly appearance.

“She can shape-shift Pete. If anyone can fake sickness, it’s her. Now finish your homework.” Tony said before turning back to face you.

The flush on your cheeks may have been from anger, embarrassment or the start of a fever, you didn’t know, but it was there.

“L/n, get yourself together. We all hate the media. Press conferences suck. Galas are a step up from that. You, as an avenger, have shown face the least of everyone. It’s impacting your funding, the teams funding. If you want to keep getting missions, you need to give SHEILD a reason to have you in the field more. And on top of training, you need people to like and respect you. Get yourself cleaned up and put your big girl pants on. You're coming to the gala tomorrow night or … like steve said your benched for a month.” Tony said before turning back to his project.

You knew it was over, with a pitying look from peter you nodded to the kid and slunk off down the hall.

You had spent the rest of your day wasting away in your bed. Nausea began to grow in your stomach and despite your body’s protest you forced down a meagre dinner of white rice and chicken.

You called in for an early night and hoped it would all be over tomorrow.

When you woke you felt like shit. Your eyes were tired and sore as you opened them. You dragged your gaze over to the bedside table and almost jumped out of your skin. It was three in the afternoon. You had maybe two and a half hours before the gala started.

Your bones ached, your skin ached, your eyes and your head ached. And more than anything you wanted nothing to do with the gala. But you couldn’t be benched for a whole month. But even now as you felt like hell had frozen over, did it begin seeming like a little less of an awful fate. It was better than throwing up on yourself in front of a room of rich white men in stuffy suits with models hanging off their arms and every word. God, you hated galas.

You pressed a palm to your eye in an attempt to dull the pounding ache in your skull. It did nothing to stave off the persistent form of torture.

You willed yourself to get up, taking at least three spoons to get out of bed.

You stumbled once you were on your feet, steadying yourself on the wall as the room spun and your stomach lurched violently into your chest.

You took carefully calculated wobbly steps to the bathroom before crashing to your knees and heaving. It was unpleasant to say the least. You spat out the foul taste and stood to flush the toilet. You brushed your teeth and inspected your reflection in the mirror. Lifting a finger to make sure that sick and tired looking person in the bathroom mirror really was you.

It was.

You checked the clock and decided to just start getting ready no matter how much you just at wanted to sleep despite having done nothing but sleep all day.

You grabbed the first dress you could find. A tight black number with a slit in the side that almost was something to write home about … almost.

It dipped low on your chest to show off your debt to god otherwise known as perfect boobs. It hugged in the middle to accentuate that snatched waistline and thighs.

You put it on and shivered. It was cold in the thin fabric, or maybe it was too warm. Who knew.

You sat down harshly at the vanity and put on a thick layer of makeup to cover the exhaustion and pale sweaty skin complete with deep purple eye-bags.

You slathered it on thick and fast before checking the time again. You swallowed back the growing pit of sickness in your stomach and began to tame your wild hair.

By the time you had slowly managed to look alive again it was past time for the gala to start.

You summoned your remaining strength to drag yourself up out of the chair. You looked in the mirror once more and fixed your long curly hair.

Sighing you tried to smile like you weren’t dying of a headache what was most likely the initial stages of the flu.

Deeming it good enough you stated out of gala.

When you entered the well-lit room of stuffy rich people your head wanted to split open. And you were ready to let it if it helped.

The music hurt your head, the lights hurt your eyes and the stuffy rich men hurt your soul which was fighting valiantly to leave your body.

You trudged over to a seat in the corner and sat down trying to hide from it all.

The avengers plus pepper were spread across the floor mingling. You watched them from your perch and brooded. Stupid tony and his stupid ego. He could fund the avengers single handedly and still run stark industries.

You fought to keep your head up as exhaustion rolled over you in waves of crushing fatigue.

You groaned quietly and turned to look out the window.

After a few minutes you felt the nausea returning. After a few more you knew there was no stopping the next onslaught of vomiting.

You stood and shivered, heading for the women’s bathrooms, knowing there was no time to find some real privacy.

You hurried across the floor and into the bathroom. You beelined for the largest stall, not bothering to lock it and sunk to your knees.

Your head hovered above the bowl as you gagged and tired to fight it off.

In your haste you had missed that one of the stalls was occupied. Now as you fought heart and soul to not empty your stomach into the toilet, someone was quickly washing their hands.

Then a small knock sounded on the bathroom stall.

“Are you ok in there?” A voice asked and in your fevered haze you failed to recognise its owner. You wanted to respond but you knew if you opened your mouth, it was all over.

As there was no response the door began to open as you turned around again in time to throw up.

Peppers gentle hands scooped your hair off your collar and up out of the way. She used her other hand to gently rub circles on your back.

“It’s ok Y/n/n. You’re alright. Get it out.” She hushed and when you were done you turned to face her with a weak smile.

“Thanks pep.” You rasped.

“Too much to drink?” She chuckled and you didn’t respond, instead spacing out looking at her high heeled shoes. “Y/n/n?” She prompted a frown marring her lips and a wrinkle in her brow. “Earth to Y/n.” She said and still without a response she brushed a curl from your eyes before quickly retracting her hand.

After a second, she replaced it, laid flat against your forehead.

“Oh honey.” She said looking sad. “You’re sick. You have a fever darling.” She cooed and you looked at her with tears on your waterline.

“I know.” You pouted trying not to cry. “Tony wouldn’t listen.” You sobbed.

“Oh sweetie. He’ll listen to me. You and I are going to head to bed, and I’ll look after you. You’re not well and need rest. Whatever Tony thinks, he has another thing coming. Now can you stand up?” She asked softly.

You nodded and slowly stood, swaying on your feet slightly as you did. Pepper put an arm around you and leaned over to flush the toilet.

Then she gently guided you out of the bathroom and over to the lift.

It was a slight blur but before you knew it you were sat on your bed as pepper gently used a cloth to wipe off your makeup.

“For someone who’s hands haven’t stopped shaking, you did a great job on the makeup.” She smiled and you nodded, too fevered to really register the compliment from the queen of galas herself. She looked at you sadly and headed to the bathroom.

She disposed of the washcloth and picked up a thermometer. Coming back to the bed she put the thermometer into your mouth and gently guided you out of your dress. Leaving you in a bra and panties. She slipped on a large T-shirt you slept in and braided your hair.

Then she took out the thermometer and frowned.

“Tonys a deadman.” She said and popped out two fever reducers for you.

She laid her hand on your forehead again to gauge if it was higher than before or not and clicked her tongue. “Defiantly getting these meds.” She said to herself and deposited them in your hands.

She helped you have some water and the medicine and tucked you into bed.

“I’m going to go change but I’ll be back later to check on you. Don’t worry honey, we’ll make sure you get well in no time. I’ll look after you.” She said and Jarvis turned down the lights as she sat down, promising to stay until you fell asleep and to be there when you woke up.

Pepper was like the mum you never had, and it was everything and all your little heart could handle or ever need.

72 notes · View notes