#iron dad sickfic

[irondadidontfeelsogood]

Middle of the Night

cw: vomit

—————

It’s 2:17 in the morning when Peter wakes up with violent urgency, stumbling to the toilet in near-complete darkness. He’s not even entirely awake when he starts to vomit, his whole body trembling and coated in sweat. The nausea is so bad that he has to brace himself against the sink beside him to avoid braining himself on the back of the toilet every time he heaves.

Eventually, his legs can’t support him anymore, and he sprawls out on the cold tile floor, panting. He starts to gain awareness as he lies there, and he begins to reflect on how much actually just fucking came out of him. His stomach roars underneath his sweaty palm, giving him a heads up that there’s somehow more where that came from.

It takes almost all of his energy to sit up and hang his head over the water where he lets the spit just fall from his mouth. He guesses it was adrenaline that made him be able to run to the bathroom, because he’d never be able to do that right now. So, he sits there, feeling his dinner coil back up from wherever it thought it was going.

When it re-fills his stomach, the nausea washes over him again, and he can feel his face go grey. With a soft whimper, he wraps his arms around his middle and prepares for another go. Right on cue, his stomach lurches, sending another wave of partially digested seafood splashing into the murky water below.

The pressure makes him feel like he has to burp, so he tries, but he ends up violently puking instead. Go figure.

He hears an awful splattering noise that indicates he failed to aim in the darkness, and the heat of embarrassment claws up from his chest to his neck and flushed cheeks.

He lets his stomach rid itself of everything it needs to, only opening his mouth in the general direction of the toilet and just letting the puke spill out. It’s not his finest moment, he’ll admit, but he doesn’t feel good enough to care right now. On the other hand, he really hopes FRIDAY doesn’t snitch on him. He doesn’t necessarily want Tony to find him in his underwear, throwing up all the expensive food he’d just bought for him not even seven hours ago.

When his stomach feels relatively okay, he wipes his mouth and flushes the toilet. He struggles to stand more than he’s willing to admit, but when he’s braced against the sink once more, he blindly reaches over to turn on the light and brave the damage from earlier.

He winces at the sudden onslaught of light, and when his eyes finally adjust, he freezes completely.

Because what the actual hell.

Not only is there some vomit on the seat and each side of the floor beside the toilet, but also all over the wall behind it and on the porcelain lid he’d frantically flipped up in his adrenaline-fueled panic.

The sight is enough to make him suddenly retch over the sink, thankfully only bringing up a few pathetic splashes of stomach acid and bile. His arms shake where he’s holding himself up, and when he glances in the mirror, he hardly recognizes himself.

He knows that if he looks over at the toilet again, he’ll start the cycle anew, so he actually gives up. He hopes Tony will forgive him for just going back to bed, because that’s what he’s doing. Needs to do, really. He’s getting lightheaded, and if he passes out, FRIDAY really will snitch.

He drags himself back to bed, shivering even under two thick blankets. With his last strand of consciousness, he turns off his alarm for school in the morning. At the very least, he’ll miss his first class cleaning his bathroom, anyway.

Not even a second later, he’s out cold. He doesn’t so much as stir until hours later when he wakes to the sound of someone’s distant voice. He groans, pressing his face against the mattress beneath him. The voice grows more insistent, echoing. He’s vaguely aware of the fact that his stomach feels like it’s rotting, but he can’t quite do anything about it yet.

Finally, the voice reaches his ears at a somewhat normal volume, and the rude reality of consciousness envelops him. The memories of last night all flood in, making him cringe and feel sort of like throwing up right where he’s lying.

“Peter,” the voice says again. Peter now knows it’s Tony. He hums, drawn out and tortured, letting Tony know he heard him. “C’mon, Pete, what are you doing? You were supposed to be up an hour ago.” He steps further into the room.

“Mm...turned off m’alarm,” he rasps, throat still raw from his lovely encounter with the toilet.

“Why? And God, kid, what died in here?” Tony suddenly asks, probably looking around for a forgotten pizza box or something similar. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“I did,” he mumbles, face still buried in his sheets.

“Huh?”

“The smell s’my bathroom,” he admits, feeling much too shitty to be mortified like he knows he’ll be later. “I wouldn’t go n’there, though, I kinda threw up all over the place.”

“What?”

“Yeah. M’about to clean it, don’ worry,” he announces, honestly feeling more like he’s just going to add to the mess.

“Like hell you are, kid. Stay put,” Tony says, disregarding Peter’s warning and swinging the cracked bathroom door open wider. He flicks on the light and lets out a string of curses under his breath.

He then closes the door abruptly, turning back to Peter, who hasn’t moved an inch. In all honesty, he feels like he might hurl if he does.

“That was—okay, wow.”

“Told you not to look.”

“Peter, that is so not the point right now,” Tony replies, walking over and perching on the edge of Peter’s bed. “Why didn’t you get FRI to tell me you were sick?”

Peter groans a bit at the mention of his condition. “Dunno.”

“It’s like you’re begging me to re-install the baby monitor protocol.”

“I really jus’ wanted to sleep. Didn’t feel good. M’sorry.”

Tony sighs, reaching out to brush the curls back from Peter’s forehead. “You don’t actually owe me an apology, kid. It just makes me worried that you were alone and that sick.”

Peter wants to reply and have an emotionally intelligent conversation, but he’s starting to get that tight feeling in the back of his throat again. Nausea stirs in the pit of his belly. He’s not sure if he has anything left to throw up, but he doesn’t want to take that chance.

“Um. Tony,” he strains. “I feel...” He can’t say the actual words or it’ll push him over the edge. Might be too late, anyway.

Tony thankfully gets the message and doesn’t waste any time. He swipes the trash can from beside Peter’s desk and has it under Peter’s chin in record time. It’s a good thing, too, because Peter was right. As soon as he moved a single muscle, his stomach took that as an open invitation.

Despite the horrendous amount of stomach contents that he’d already vacated in the middle of the night, he’s throwing up again. Only this time, it’s not so easy. Rather than being able to let the sickness run it’s course and pump him empty, he’s choking, and hiccuping, and tearing his throat up with every go.

“Jeez, kid.”

Peter wants to say I know, or maybe please just kill me, but all that comes out is more burning hot puke. He feels Tony start to rub a calloused hand between his shoulder blades, and he has to admit to himself that he wishes he had this earlier today. Maybe he does want the stupid protocol back.

Or maybe he’s just sensitive from being so sick. All he really knows is that he feels miserable, and he’s glad Tony came to check on him. There would probably be another mess to deal with if he hadn’t.

After a few more unsatisfying heaves, he stares blankly at the pool sitting in the bottom of the bin and tries to catch his breath. Tony gets up from the bed, and Peter feels a sudden, childlike urge to cry out for him. His future self will probably be grateful that he doesn’t have the energy to do so.

Tony comes back, anyway. He has a handful of toilet paper, and when he sits back down, he actually wipes the sick from Peter’s mouth. It’s parental, and Peter’s so gross, but Tony doesn’t seem to care. Peter must have a fever, because he’s about to cry over it.

The tears overflow despite his efforts to blink them away, and suddenly the bin disappears from his lap.

“You’re okay, Pete,” Tony soothes, collecting Peter’s still trembling body and holding him close to his chest. His hand curves gently up and down Peter’s spine.

“M’really sorry about th’ bathroom,” Peter murmurs, finally feeling the extent of his embarrassment.

“You don’t owe me an apology, kid. Anyone who’s sick enough to do that kind of damage gets a free pass.” Peter groans, feeling a bit sorry for himself. He can’t help it. Something about the way Mr. Stark is treating him makes him realize he should’ve gotten help.

“I think it was the sushi,” he murmurs. “Tasted a little funny.”

“Yeah, well, next time seafood tastes a little funny, maybe don’t proceed to eat twice your body weight in raw salmon.”

Peter groans. “I don’t think I’ll eat anything ever again.”

Tony breathes out a quiet laugh. They stay like that for a few minutes, listening to the birds outside Peter’s window. He’s glad he decided not to tough it out and go to school. A cramp reaffirms his thoughts.

“My stomach hurts,” he moans, pulling back to wrap his arms around his middle.

“I bet it does. You want some Pepto?”

He shakes his head. “I’d throw it up. I always do.” It’s true. Almost every time he’s ever taken Pepto, it ends up spewing back out of him almost immediately.

“Okay, maybe some Sprite? We gotta get some liquids back in you, kiddo.”

Peter thinks for a second and then nods, letting himself curl back into bed. Tony pats his knee through the blanket and stands up.

“Good. I’ll be right back.” He crosses the room, stopping at the door. “Anything else you want me to get while I’m down there?”

“Um. Maybe another trash bag? This one is making me nauseous.”

“I’m right there with ya, pal. Give me like, two minutes. Hang tight.”

Peter just hugs his stomach and groans, drowning in his misery. He wonders if it’s actually this bad or if he’s gotten dramatic, but for his ego’s sake, he’s probably dying. He can barely lift his head when Tony finally comes back.

He greets Tony with a whimper. A literal whimper. He’s going to hate himself later, but for now, he just wants Tony to wave some magic wand and give him a new stomach.

“I know, kid. Go ahead and sit up for me.”

Peter regrets ever sinking back against his pillow, because now sitting up sounds like the single most unachievable thing in the world.

“If I move, I’ll barf,” he replies, only half joking.

“Then we’ll ride it out and try the Sprite when you’re done.”

Peter groans, knowing he’s never going to win this battle. He begins to lift his head and eventually his torso, feeling the ache of his stomach muscles from overuse. The motion makes him very dizzy, probably from dehydration if he’s honest.

He holds up his hand, blocking Tony from bringing the glass to his lips.

“C’mon, don’t fight me, Pete,” Tony says, almost pleading.

Peter shakes his head barely. “One second...tryin’ not to puke.”

“Ah. Got it.”

Blessedly, Tony doesn’t push the glass on him again. He sits there swallowing convulsively for a minute before he can even open his eyes. When he does, he can’t help but look at Tony with open misery.

“I know you don’t feel good, kiddo, I’m sorry,” he says, seemingly reading Peter’s mind. They’ve gotten to that point apparently. He places a steady hand between Peter’s shoulder blades and rubs in a circle. “I really think you’ll feel better if you sip on this. Just try for me, Pete.”

Peter eyes the bubbling liquid and tries not to feel entirely disgusted. In a moment of pure bravery, he reaches for the cup and takes three whole sips. It’s cooling against his raw throat, and he’s grateful to get the taste of bile out of his mouth at least a little.

“That’s it, you’re doing good. You can take a break if you want to.”

So, he does. He sets the cup down on his nightstand and lays back down while Tony replaces the bin liner for him. His head swims a little as if he’s drunk, and he gets the sinking feeling that his Sprite victory won’t last too long.

“Mm...Tony,” he mumbles, snaking a hand under his t-shirt and trying to magically settle his stomach through touch.

“Yeah?”

“Can you turn on the TV? I really need to think about something other than my stomach for, like, two seconds.”

Tony gives him a sympathetic smile, grabbing the remote and turning on The Office. He uses his foot to scoot the trash can back to where it was and sets the remote back down. Peter starts to feel himself drifting off already.

“I’ll get out of your hair. Please actually tell FRIDAY if you need me, okay? I’m gonna check in every now and then anyway.” Peter nods, curling into himself. “Alright, I’m gonna go call Midtown, tell them you’re not feeling so hot.” Peter just nods again, blinks getting longer and longer.

The voices on the TV get jumbled and muted as he’s pulled into a state of half-consciousness fueled by fever. His dreams are far-off and confusing, often nightmarish and gory. When he wakes with a start, he wonders if it was a nightmare or a memory. Sometimes he worries that patrol has doomed him to a lifetime of night terrors.

It takes him several minutes to come to and make sense of the noises in his room. He eventually fumbles for the remote and turns off Netflix, flopping back down onto his mattress.

He’s coated in sweat, battling the swirling in his stomach yet again. He has no idea how much time has passed. It’s unsettling, and he finds himself really wanting company. His mouth is also bone try, so he grabs the Sprite with a trembling hand before speaking.

“Hey, FRI?” he rasps.

“Yes, Mr. Parker?”

“Can you, um. Get Tony?”

“Alerting Boss. Would you like me to deliver a message?”

Peter shivers at the condensation from the glass running down his forearm. “Um...just tell him I don’ feel good.” He knows he sounds like a child, but his head feels very funny and he doesn’t quite know what else to say.

He must be truly dehydrated, because once he starts drinking, the sips turn to swallows, and the swallows turn to desperate gulping, and before he knows it, the cup is empty. He winces almost instantly at the new sloshing feeling in his stomach. Maybe he fucked up.

He can’t even breathe in without heaving on the exhale, and in a fraction of a second, he’s refilled the glass. He promptly sets it down and leans over, vomiting into the trash bin.

Right on cue, Tony knocks on the door and cracks it open just a tad. When he peeks in, another wet retch is climbing up Peter’s throat.

“Ah, shit,” he mutters under his breath, crossing the room to pick up the bin so Peter doesn’t fall over with the effort of heaving. He’s grateful, because the blood rushing to his head was really starting to make his vision swirl.

Tony is silently rubbing his back, and Peter tries not to be too gross. It’s sort of a lost cause, especially when he misses a little bit and pukes on his hand that’s gripping the bin. Of course, that sets off his nausea all over again.

It takes him a long while to catch his breath. He has to close his eyes and forget where he is so he can stop gagging.

“You want some Sprite?” Tony asks, unintentionally sending Peter into his worst retching fit yet. “Okay, so that’s a hard no. I’ll let you have a minute to breathe.”

“It’s—,” Peter tries, cut off by a gurgling retch. He greedily sucks in air, heaving from deep in his belly on the exhale. “Not Sprite.”

“You wanna try some juice or something instead?”

“No, I mean—that’s-” More vomit. “I threw up the Sprite.”

“Yeah, I can see that, kid.”

Peter’s never going to be able to explain if he keeps imagining the glass. He’s panting heavily over the soiled trash. “No...I drank it all,” he strains. “That’s puke.”

Just like magic, Peter’s empty stomach finds more to shove up his throat. It trickles pathetically against the plastic.

Tony stands there, processing, and then:

“Oh. Oh, Pete.”

And then Tony’s visibly trying to figure out what to do about the full cup of vomit on the bedside table. Peter feels so embarrassed all of a sudden, and if he had the energy to escape the tower and go be by himself, he would. He knows he wouldn’t make it far.

“M’so sorry.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t have done it if you had any other choice, kid. I’m just glad it’s not on the carpet.” That makes Peter feel a little better, actually. Not enough to actually make a difference, of course, but it’s better than nothing.

“When’s it gonna stop?” he breathes out, barely keeping his composure.

Tony lets out a short sigh. “I wish I could tell you. Hopefully soon.”

Peter wilts, not feeling optimistic about that at all. Last time he caught the flu, he spent the entire weekend hurling just about anywhere he deemed moderately appropriate. He hadn’t even felt as bad then.

“I’m gonna get rid of this. Do you want me to bring anything back?”

Peter takes a moment to think and then shakes his head. There’s nothing he can imagine that would ease his misery. The only thing he can bring himself to do is pray for sleep to take him, and even that’s a battle.

“Alright. Again, call FRI if you need me for anything at all, okay?”

“‘kay.”

Tony leaves him to what’s sure to be his slow death. He turns over and begs for sleep, receiving nothing but a lingering stomach ache. He lays awake for over an hour before he finally, blissfully slips into unconsciousness.

—————

A/N: Thank you for reading as always! You rock

#iron dad #marvel sickfic #peter parker #sickfic #cw vomit #peter parker sickfic #iron dad sickfic #iron man #tony stark #sick #hurt/comfort

[irondadmadlads]

Irondad Prompts #76:

Sick!Tony: Pepper, I can’t stay in bed all day! I have things to do!

Pepper: I thought you might say that. Would you rest if someone stayed with you? Misery loves company after all.

Tony: ?

Sick!Peter: Hi Mr. Stark. Ms. Potts said you’re not feeling well and wanted my company. Which, I’m not sure I’ll be any entertainment because I’m also not feeling well, but-

#iron man #irondad and spiderson #irondad and spiderson prompts #irondad prompts #spider man #spiderson prompts #iron dad #irondad #peter parker #spiderson #marvel #mcu tony stark #mcu peter parker #marvel mcu #mcu #peter parker & tony stark #tony stark #sickfic prompts #sickfic #sick peter parker #sick tony stark

[idk-bruh-20]

Thinking about Peter Parker sick fics

I really appreciate the fic writers who clarify that our boy CAN get sick (Spider-Man does not have superhuman immunity!!!) but that his healing factor does, in fact, have an impact on him:

It makes him feel worse way faster.

Think about it. A normal flu lasts, what, a week? Peter's healing factor wouldn't prevent him from getting the flu, but it would make him speedrun all the symptoms.

If most people feel meh at first, then feel like crap on Day 1 and like death on Day 5, Peter would go from meh to death in the span of hours.

Recipe for needing a school pick-up and it's not even his fault? YES YEAH YOU BET IT IS.

#again not my idea or anything #I just always value the fic writers who notice and use this #though let's be real any peter parker sick fic is to be valued and cherished #we appreciate you irondad writers!!! #backbone of our society #peter parker #tony stark #irondad #iron dad #spider son #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #iron dad and spider son #ironfam #sickfic #sick fic #irondad fanfic #irondad fic #irondad fanfiction #spiderman #spider man #iron man #thoughts

[viixenvi]

𝐒𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐃𝐚𝐲

I've never posted here before so forgive me in case I do anything wrong

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You get the flu, Peter and Steve are in charge of taking care of you while Tony (your dad) has to go to meetings. You and Peter have a plan to help Steve and Bucky make up after being mad at each other so all four of you can watch movies all day.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Peter, Steve, Tony, Bucky, Fem!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: None

"Peter will be here soon to keep you company," Tony says, slipping his phone into his pocket and sitting next to you on the couch. He reaches over and presses the back of his hand to your forehead.

Your fever had gone down since the morning so you were already feeling a lot better than the past few days. Tony hummed and places his hand onto his knee. He has been worried for you the past few days, it was just the flu but it hit you pretty hard.

"What is Mr. America doing all the way over there?" You ask jokingly.

"For the last time, its captain america," He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. This makes you laugh, but you end up in a coughing fit.

"Maybe I shouldn't go," Tony whispers to you.

"Dad go! I'll be okay, promise!" You hold out you hand to do a pinky swear with him. This had been a tradition since he and Stephen adopted you. He locked his pinky with yours and, with a sigh, he got up.

Tony placed a kiss on your head before leaving the room hesitantly.

"Where is your boyfriend Mr. America?" You look at Steve, who is leaned against the door frame across the room. He looks down and you notice a tint of red on his face.

"He's mad at me right now."

You smile and immediately reach for your phone. You knew they were in a fight and you decided to invite Bucky over to "have a movie night" but you just wanted them to make up. You text Bucky to hurry up nd you hear someone walking down the hall.

"Peter!" You squeal when Peter is in view. He runs up to you and gives you a hug.

"Hi I missed you so much Y/n, I was so sad building the lego set without you," Peter plops down next to you and pulls his phone out to show you process of the lego set.

"You got so far in it! When I get better we are definitely finishing it together."

"Hi Mr. America sir," Peter greets Steve with a wave, laughing when Steve gets an irritated look on his face.

"Y/n put you up to this, didn't she?"

Peter looks at you before turning back to him and nodding. "Sorry Steve, you called me bite-size Stark last week, this is what you get," You giggle.

"He called you what?" Bucky's voice sounds from the hallway. He walks in and immediately gives Steve a look.

"Buck? what are you doing here?" Steve asks, trying to ignore the questioning look on his boyfriend's face.

"Y/n invited me to watch movies, why are you here?"

"Tony made me look after these two."

Bucky turns to look at us and we both smile.

"Why are you guys in a fight?" I ask, i'm just nosey and Steve wouldn't tell me.

"Because I did something I'm not supposed to do."

Bucky crosses his arm and raises his eyebrow. "Go on, tell them what you did Stevie."

"I took his arm and hid it from him because we have been in a prank war and I thought it would be funny," Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

You gasp and Peter holds back laughs. "You are never supposed to touch his arm! It's like his number one rule," You exclaim.

"That's what I told him." Bucky sighs.

"I'm sorry Jamie, please forgive me," Steve walks to Bucky and holds out his arms for a hug. Bucky is trying so hard to hold back a smile but he can't help but fail.

"You know I love it when you call me that," Bucky wraps his arms around Steve and buries his head on Steve's shoulder.

"Yay! Now movie time!" You clasp your hands together and turn to Peter.

"Twilight?" Peter suggests. You smile and nod.

"You know me too well Spiderman."

#marvel #reading #marvel mcu #fanfic #fanfiction #spider man #peter parker #tony stark #iron man #captain america #steve rogers #sickfic #dad tony stark #winter soldier #fem reader #spiderman fic #captain america fic #winter soldier fic #viixenvi

[itsmechara426]

Irondad Prompt #175:

Royalty AU

King Anthony Stark has a plethora of responsibilities as king. However, when one of his servants — a teenager by the name of Peter Parker — becomes sickly, Tony puts all those responsibilities off to care for the boy.

#peter parker #tony stark #iron man #spiderson #irondad #spiderman #fluff #hurt/comfort #sickfic #spidermam #fanfic #spider man #iron dad #marvel #mcu tony stark #mcu peter parker #tony stark & peter parker #royalty #royalty au

[stranger-things-bidisaster]

My new fic! I haven’t written an Irondad fic before but I hope I got the characterizations right.

#iron dad #marvel #iron dad fanfiction #peter parker #tony stark #fanfic #sickfic #pepper potts #marvel fanfiction #ao3 fanfic

[marvelous-writer]

Not So Super Side Effects

Summary: Peter is recovering at the Stark lake house from a broken leg when Dr. Banner makes a house call to bring him some newly formulated pain medication to help him with the pain.

Things just don’t go as smoothly as Tony and Bruce hoped they would.

Whumptober Day 1: Adverse Reactions & “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”  

@whumptober @whumptober-archive

Rating: G

Word Count: 3,786

Genre: whump, hurt/comfort, fluff, humor

Link to read on AO3

“Just—you have to sit still, Pete.” Tony says, a hint of frustration in his voice as he tries to adjust the pillows behind Peter’s back on the chaise section of the couch as the teen squirms in his seat.

“But I’m so sick of sitting around all the time. I have things I need to do!” Peter whines as he throws his arms out to his sides.

“Not with a broken leg you don’t,” Tony says, gesturing to Peter’s right leg that’s encased in a navy blue cast, propped up on a thick throw pillow. “If there’s anything you need, you let me know and I’ll get it for you. No putting weight on that leg—doctor’s orders and I know you don’t want to make Bruce angry.” He adds with a hint of sarcasm.

Peter just sighs, rolling his eyes as he folds his arms over his chest. “I know, but it’s still not fair.”

“I know.” Tony says in an understanding voice.

“And it’s not fair that I stupidly tripped on my own foot and fell down the stairs with the stupid elevator being down in Happy’s apartment building.”

“I know.” Tony repeats, nodding.

“It’s not fair that I can’t even walk to the bathroom by myself.” Peter says, folding his arms over his chest.

Tony lets out a light sigh as he gives Peter a pointed look. The kid is just turned nineteen, yet he still reminds him of the fifteen year old he met all those years ago, especially now with how childish he’s being over a broken leg. He knows Peter well enough now to know that the last thing he wants to do is inconvenience anyone. He wants to be independent and take care of other people’s needs before his own.

But can Tony blame him? He’d probably be whining about it too if he were in the poor kid’s shoes.

“Pete,” he says. “I hate to tell you this but life isn’t fair, kiddo. We just have to accept it and deal with it.”

Peter lets out a sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Yeah…” he agrees. “Sorry for whining about it. It’s just-”

“Not fair?” Tony finishes with a teasing grin, only to earn a weak glare from Peter in return, causing Tony to chuckle. “I know what you mean. I’ve been down for the count quite a few times in my life and I know what it’s like. But you’re going to be back on your feet in no time, okay? Bruce is going to swing by in a little bit to bring you your new pain meds that will help. So in the meantime, how about I make us some lunch and we can watch a movie?”

Peter nods, giving in with a small, grateful smile. “Sure.”

…

After fixing them some sandwiches for lunch, Tony settles down on the couch next to Peter and watch an episode of the new Obi-Wan Kenobi show. They’re almost twenty minutes into the second episode when he notices Peter shifting in his seat and clenching his fists.

Tony’s frowns in concern. “You okay, kiddo?”

Peter doesn’t answer him for a few moments as his face pinches slightly. “Yeah…” he answers in an unsure voice as he reaches forward and rubs his injured leg near his knee.

“Is your leg bothering you?” Tony asks.

Peter’s brows pull together as he breathes out a sigh, sitting back into the couch cushions. “A little.”

Tony nods as he pulls out his phone from his pocket, already starting to text his friend. “I’ll text him and ask his ETA with those pain meds.”

“Thanks.” Peter says in a grateful tone.

It takes only a few minutes for Bruce to text back.

“He says he’s already on his way—about twenty minutes or so.” Tony says, looking up from his phone.

“That’s good.” Peter says. “Maybe we can ask him to take a look at my new web formula while he’s here?”

Tony gives him a pointed look. “You’re just wanting to get off the couch and down in the lab.”

“What? I am not.” Peter weakly defends himself, a smile creeping onto his face.

Tony breathes out a laugh as he shakes his head. “Yeah, sure you’re not.”

Peter’s smile grows as he gives a small one-shouldered shrug as he looks back to the tv, watching Obi-Wan walk across the sandy dunes of Tatooine with the twin suns glaring harshly above him.

…

“Dr. Banner has arrived.” Friday’s announces, her soft voice coming from the speakers above.

And sure enough, Tony can hear tires rolling to a stop against the gravel driveway outside.

“Great. Thanks, Fri.” Tony says as he looks over at Peter, who is still sound asleep.

He had fallen asleep not even twenty minutes ago, shortly after they started the third episode of the show. The poor kid was clearly exhausted and in pain, judging by the way his brows are pulled together in discomfort, even in his sleep.  His brown leg hasn’t allowed him to get any proper sleep these past few days with the dull, throbbing pain. That’s why Tony called in a favor to Bruce to up Peter’s dosage on his pain meds but Bruce ultimately decided to whip up a new and improved batch since the ones they already have for Peter were more of a prototype medication. They took the edge off of the pain and made him a little loopy, but clearly not enough to completely numb the pain. Hopefully these new pain meds will do the trick for Peter so he can get the rest he needs.

Tony quietly stands up and heads over to the front door, grabbing his thin coat on the coat rack before stepping outside, feeling a crisp, fall breeze rush past him.

Tony leans on the porch railing and folds his arms as he watches Bruce get out of the car. “Hey, green bean. How was the drive?”

Bruce laughs at the nickname, smiling as he grabs his medical bag from the passenger seat before shutting the door. “Not too bad. The foliage was beautiful coming down here. The trees at the compound haven’t changed yet. In due time, I guess.”

Tony nods as he looks up at the big elm trees across the yard. It’s leaves have now turned almost completely red, yellow and orange.

“How’s Peter doing today?” Bruce asks as he walks towards the porch.

“He’s sleeping now, the poor kid. His leg was acting up today like last night,” Tony says. “I think he’s getting a bit stir crazy though. One thing he hates doing is sitting still for too long.”

Bruce nods with a small smile. “I know the feeling,” he says, coming up the porch steps. “As you know, the break in his leg was deep so it’s taking his body a little longer to heal it, even with his enhanced healing abilities. That could also be a contributor to the pain he’s in. I used Steve’s as a baseline for the chemical compounds and such with his enhanced metabolism. Let’s hope they do the trick to take the edge off Peter’s pain.”

“Let’s hope.” Tony says in agreement as he pushes off the railing and heads back to the door.

When they both step inside the house, Tony looks across the room over to Peter, who is still sound asleep on the couch.

“Do you want a sandwich or anything?” Tony offers.

“Uh, yeah sure, please. I’m going to take everything out so we can give him his first dose now. I think I’ll hang around for a little bit just to make sure it works before I head back.”

“You can stay as long as you want, Brucie. No need to ask.” Tony says with a grin as he heads towards the kitchen, glancing over at Peter as he goes to make Bruce his sandwich.

It only takes Tony a few minutes to make the sandwich—turkey, lettuce, cheddar cheese, and pickles to be exact— he walks back out into the living room as Bruce is going though his medical bag, taking out an orange prescription bottle.

“Thanks,” Bruce says with a grateful smile as he puts the bottle down on the end table next to the couch, taking the plate from Tony’s outstretched hand.

Tony walks around him and leans down next to Peter, gently shaking the teen’s shoulder. “Hey, Pete… rise and shine.” He softly says.

Peter’s brows pull together as he rolls his head to the side of the pillow with a small groan.

“C’mon, kiddo, wakey, wakey.”

Peter’s eyes slowly flutter open, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he looks up at Tony, brows pulling together more in confusion.

“Bruce is here with the good stuff.” Tony tells him.

“Good stuff?” Peter questions, slurring a bit as he rubs at his eyes.

“Your pain meds,” Tony clarifies with a chuckle. “You can go back to sleep after your first dose.”

Tony stands back and lets Bruce take over as he asks Peter questions about his pain and how he’s feeling. He steps away for a moment to grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator before giving it to Peter after Bruce hands him two small blue pills. Peter pops the pills in his mouth and washes them down with a few sips of the water.

“So I want you to take two every four to six hours, depending on your pain. When you’re starting to feel better then we can lower it to one.” Bruce says.

“Okay,” Peter nods. “But these aren’t going to make me feel fuzzy like the other ones are they?”

“They shouldn’t but a little grogginess is to be expected with pain meds like these.”

“That’s good.” Peter says, sighing in relief. “I hate how loopy they make me.”

“I know. They’re a work in progress, so I’m hoping these will be a lot better for you.”

“I think they will be,” Tony adds with a smile. “After all I did help with formulating them and we worked tirelessly on them so Spider-Man can continue going out there, saving the citizens of New York while he makes me go greyer and greyer every day.” He sarcastically adds.

Peter ducks his head and rubs at his neck, offering an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

Tony sighs dramatically. “It’s for a good cause, I guess,” He jokes as he sits back down in his spot next to Peter on the couch. He looks over at Bruce. “Do you think you could whip me up something to help with the grays, Doc?”

Bruce chuckles. “I don’t think I can help with that but I can recommend you lay off the coffee, eat more vegetables and get more sleep,” he says. “I’m a doctor, not a miracle worker.”

Peter lets out a laugh at that, nearly choking on his water. “Ooo burn.” He says, looking over at Tony.

“I would have to disagree on you with that one, Bruce. You are indeed a miracle worker. My kid here is proof of that.” Tony says as he reaches over and ruffles Peter’s bedhead hair.

“Well, thank you for that.” Bruce says.

“While we wait for those meds to kick in, want to sit down and watch some Obi-Wan, Bruce?” Tony offers.

“Sure, why not. I’ve been meaning to catch up on the new additions to the Star Wars franchise.” He says as he picks up the plate with his sandwich and takes a seat across from them on the loveseat.

“You’ll love this one.” Peter says with a grin.

“Is this the series with the little Yoda baby?” Bruce asks around a mouthful of his sandwich.

Tony and Peter’s heads snap in his direction, a mixture of shocked expressions on their faces.

“Bruce…” Tony slowly says, closing his eyes for a moment as he dramatically places a hand to his chest. “His name is Grogu and he’s from the Mandalorian. He is the light of Mando’s life, his adopted foundling son.”

Bruce raises an eyebrow, looking between the two of them. “Sorry? I guess I really do have a lot of catching up to do.”

“I say we have a Mandalorian marathon one of these days.” Peter says with a smile.

“That could be fun.” Bruce says with a smile.

“Yeah,” Tony agrees. “We could even have Star Wars-themed food and stuff to go with it. A little Star Wars watch party. I bet we could whip up a batch of spotchka too.”

Peter turns to him with wide eyes. “Really? That would be so cool! I’m sure we could use Gatorade or something for the blue-“

“The Glacier Frost one could work.” Bruce chips in.

“Yeah! But we’ll have to figure out how to make it glow.”

“I’m sure it’s doable.” Tony says, making a mental note to look up some spotchka recipes that are out there on the internet.

“And maybe we could do a cosplay contest!” Peter suggests.

“Now there’s an idea!” Tony says with a chuckle. “We’ll look into a having cosplay-wearing watch party later. But for now… Friday, roll it back to episode one, please.”

“Certainly.” She responds, pausing as the first episode flashes on the tv screen.

As the opening credits and score begin, Tony settles in his seat further, sparing a glance over at Bruce as his friend takes an insanely large bite of his sandwich, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he chews, clearly enjoying it. Tony barely manages holds back a chuckle at the sight. The poor guy is cooped up in the lab all day and forgets to eat a lot of the time. Tony knows a thing or two about that.

He turns back to the tv as a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. It’s peaceful, being with Peter and Bruce, just hanging out together and watching tv for a change instead of fighting aliens or evil robots, or suiting up to go save his spider-child’s ass a few times a week, despite the fact that Tony’s semi-retired as Iron Man. But it’s all worth it.

Tony looks at the tv, allowing himself to be immersed in the show.

…

Peter ended up falling back asleep around the middle of the first episode, tucked into Tony’s side with his head resting on his shoulder. They’re in the middle of the second episode, when the teen makes a soft, groaning sound in his sleep at Tony’s side.

Tony looks down at him as the teen’s eyes slowly blink open, only for him to squeeze them shut again with another groan.  The poor kid is probably exhausted.

“You conked out on us a little while ago. Did you have a good nap?” Tony asks with a warm smile.

Peter lays there for a few long moments without answering him, his face still pulled together in what looks to be discomfort. A wave of nervousness washes over Tony.

“Pete?” He asks but the teen still doesn’t answer him. “Peter?” He repeats.

Peter slowly opens his eyes again, his brows pulled together in a frown. “I…” he starts, licking his lips.  “I don’ feel so good…”

Bruce’s head snaps up at the comment. He quickly stands up from the loveseat and gets into doctor mode, sitting on the edge of the coffee table, exchanging a knowing look with Tony. “What do you mean you don’t feel good Peter? What’re you feeling?” He asks as he takes out his phone.

Peter sits there for a few seconds, seemingly processing Bruce’s question. “I… I dunno… weird n’ fuzzy…” he says, his words slurring.

“A little weird and fuzzy?” Bruce repeats. “The same way you feel when you take your other pain medication or is this new?” He asks.

Peter hums in thought. “Sort of…”

“Sort of. Okay,” Bruce says, nodding his head as he types on his phone. “Are you feeling nauseous or dizzy?”

Peter closes his eyes and slowly nods his head.

“You are? Okay…” Bruce says, typing into his phone as he stands up. “All you need to do is just sit here and try to relax. We’ll get you something to drink to settle your stomach, alright?”

Peter leans his head back against the pillows behind his head and hums at the back of his throat.

“I’ll grab him a some ginger ale and see if that helps.” Tony says as he stands up.

Peter’s eyes suddenly fly open, causing both men to hesitate where they stand. “m’ gonna throw up.” He announces.

The alarming rate the kid’s skin is going from his usual rosy to pale, even green has Tony running into the kitchen and grabbing the nearest thing for the kid to upchuck into.

Pepper’s favorite crystal punch bowl, the one her mother gave them on his and Pepper’s wedding day.

He rushed back to the living room and shoves it under Peter, just in time as vomit spews out from his mouth and into the bowl.

“N-Nooo,” Peter moans as he opens his eyes. “N-Not the crystal bowl-“ he says, only to duck his head back in, throwing up again.

Tony winces in sympathy. “It’s alright, kiddo. Just let it all out. I can wash it after.”

“I’ll try to remember not to drink the punch during the Halloween party.” Bruce mumbles with a slight grimace.

Peter must hear him because he moans out into the puke-filled crystal bowl again. Tony shoots Bruce a glare with no real heat behind it.

“These meds are supposed to help him feel better not worse.” Tony says guiltily.

He doesn’t blame Bruce for this. There has to be something that he missed seeing himself. Tony is a science wiz—he’s supposed to be good at this stuff.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Bruce says, baffled as Peter continues to throw up in front of them. “I checked the ingredients twice—three times, even. I adjusted the chemical formula to suit his metabolism… I just don’t understand it. There’s nothing that should be causing this sort of reaction for him.”

“Do you think it’s his metabolism? Maybe it’s too much of a dose for him to handle?” Tony questions.

“That’s a possibility but… I didn’t think that it had a tap out point with how incredibly fast it is. I hope we haven’t been wrong this whole time, like how much we can and can’t give him for medication—just like right now, how many calories he needs to intake every day, and even how much alcohol he can consume before he gets drunk—“

“My kid is upchucking right now and you’re wondering how drunk he can get?” Tony asks with a raised brow.

“You’re right. Sorry,” Bruce says, shaking his head to himself. “But this does factor in a whole new set of equations that we’ll have to figure out so we’re prepared in an emergency situation. But for now, all we can do is let it make its way though his system. It’s not a heavy duty drug like an opioid, so naloxone doesn’t need to be administered.”

Tony lets out a relieved breath at that. “Thank God it’s not.” He says, closing his eyes for a moment. “What can we do for him now?”

“‘I can grab him some water or ginger ale to help with the nausea while you sit with him. All we can really do is try to keep him comfortable and ride this out.”

“Right,” Tony says, “the ginger ale is in the pantry next to the fridge. I think we have some saltine crackers in there too.”

“Got it.” Bruce nods as he turns and heads into the kitchen, leaving Tony standing there, holding the puke bowl as Peter finally seems to have emptied his stomach out.

The poor kid lets out a low groan, his face twisted slightly in pain.

“Oh, Pete…” Tony says in sympathy as he puts the bowl down on the coffee table and goes back to Peter, gently placing a hand on the teen’s head. “I’m so sorry this is happening.”

“S’kay… not y’r fault.” Peter murmurs.

“Do you want me to get you anything?” Tony offers.

Peter just silently shakes his head, letting his head fall back against the pillows behind him. Bruce comes around the corner with a tumblr filled with ice and ginger ale, along with a sleeve of saltines in his other hand. He places them down on the end table next to Peter.

“Are you feeling any better after getting all that out?” Bruce asks hopefully.

“A little…”

“That’s good. When you’re feeling up to it, we can help you up to your room so you’re more comfortable and in bed if you want?” Bruce offers.

"M-Maybe in a little bit.” Peter says with a wince.

“Whenever you want to, just let us know.” Tony tells him.

Tony and Bruce both take a step back, a little unsure what to do now. Tony reaches for the crystal bowl on the coffee table, only for Bruce to pick it up instead.

Tony opens his mouth to protest but Bruce beats him to it.

“I’ve cleaned up plenty of puke in my life. You just sit with him and make sure he’s alright, okay?” Bruce tells him.

Tony lets out a sigh, giving in with a nod. Bruce walks past him, crystal bowl of puke in hand as Tony sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of Peter, who has his eyes closed, his head leant back against the pillows behind him again.

Guilt flows through him at the sight of the poor kid, already injured and in pain and now sick, thanks to him. He had to have missed something in the pain meds that triggered something in Peter. He should have been more thorough.

“Do you want me to get you anything?” Tony offers.

“No… think m’ just gonna sleep.” Peter mumbles, clearly exhausted.

“Okay. Bruce and I are right here if you need anything, kiddo.” Tony tells him, earning a small silent nod from the teen.

He stands up, only for Peter to crack open his eyes and look up at him.

“Can you stay?” Peter asks in a hopeful voice.

A smile tugs at the corner of Tony’s mouth as he nods. “Sure.” He says as he takes a seat  the couch beside Peter, who immediately turns his head towards Tony, leaning his head against his chest.

A warmth flows through Tony’s chest as he carefully wraps an arm around Peter, holding him close. The kid always gets clingy whenever he’s sick. But Tony doesn’t mind.

“All comfy?”

“Mhmm…” Peter sleepily hums. “T’nks.”

“Anytime, kiddo.”

#whumptober2022 #no.1 #adverse reactions #this wasn't supposed to happen. #Spider-Man #fic #tw puke #whump #hurt/comfort #Peter Parker #Tony Stark #Iron Man #Bruce Banner #Hulk #Poor Peter Parker #sickfic #Peter Parker whump #dad tony stark #Emotional Hurt/Comfort #bruce banner is a good bro #sick Peter Parker #Hurt Peter Parker #mcu #marvel #spiderman #spider-man no way home #nwh #spider-man: nwh #my fic

[obsessionoftheday]

​Rating: General Audience

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts

Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Pepper Potts

Summary: Tony is left to deal with two sick kids when Pepper is away. Will he survive? He is not sure.

@sicktember 2022 Prompts: 'Great. Now I have Your Germs All Over Me', Nausea/Upset Stomach, Whining/Crying, Sleepless Nights

#sicktember 2022 #iron dad and spider son #marvel #tony stark #peter parker #morgan stark #pepper potts #marvel fanfics #vomiting #emetophobia #sickfic

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

After such a successful run, last year, @obsessionoftheday and I are super excited to be hosting @sicktember again this coming September.

The event is open to all fandoms. But let's face it, what I'm most excited to see is some amazing irondad and spiderson content. Just some sweet sweet hurt/comfort to soothe my soul.

😂😂😂🥰

If your interested, prompts will be released on May 15th!

#sicktember 2022 #peter parker #tony stark #irondad and spiderson #marvel #iron man #spider-man #mcu #marvel fanfiction #sick fic #sick character #sickfics #hurt/comfot #iron dad and spider son #superfamily #supremefamily #iron family #may parker #spideychelle

[ao3feed-irondadspiderson]

Your Friendly Neighborhood Walking Disaster

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50595649 by Marvelous_Writer In which Peter winds up getting hurt the night before Morgan’s birthday party—and of course—he tries to hide it from everyone with the fear of ruining Morgan’s birthday. And as usual… it doesn’t go so well for him. Whumptober Day 1: “How many fingers am I holding up?” Words: 11229, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 1 of 🍁 Whumptober 2023 🍁 Fandoms: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel, MCU, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Iron Man (Movies) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Peter Parker, Spider-Man, Tony Stark, Iron Man, Karen (Spider-Man: Homecoming), Friday (Marvel), Happy Hogan, Aunt May Parker (Marvel), Pepper Potts, Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Bruce Banner (mentioned), Clint Barton (mentioned), Steve Rogers, Captain America - Character Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Happy Hogan & Peter Parker, Happy Hogan & May Parker & Peter Parker & Pepper Potts & Morgan Stark (MCU) & Tony Stark, Aunt May Parker & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Tony Stark/Pepper Potts, Happy Hogan/May Parker (Spider-Man), Peter Parker & Steve Rogers & Tony Stark Additional Tags: whumptober2023, no.1 - Freeform, “How many fingers am I holding up?”, Spider-Man - Freeform, mcu - Freeform, Marvel - Freeform, Whump, Peter Parker Whump, emeto warning, there’s puke mentioned here a few times!, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Peter Parker is a Mess, Precious Peter Parker, Poor Peter, Sickfic, Sick Peter Parker, Poor Peter Parker, Sick Peter, whumpy, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Head Injury, Concussions, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, Peter Parker Calls Tony Stark "Dad", Steve Rogers & Tony Stark Friendship, Uncle Happy Hogan, Protective Happy Hogan, Happy Hogan Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Worried Happy Hogan, Worried Aunt May Parker (Marvel), Precious Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Morgan Stark are Siblings (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Morgan Stark Friendship (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker Has a Family, Peter Parker Feels, Peter Parker Needs a Break, Hurt Peter Parker, Avengers Family, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Irondad & Spiderson, Irondad, spiderson read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/50595649

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #iron dad and spider son #spider son #iron dad #peter parker #tony stark

[glygriffe]

December Fanfic Reading & Rec

To start the New Year positively, let's celebrate the creativity of some fellow writers I had the pleasure to read in the last month.

I want to share the good stuff in my life and, so far, Tumblr has been a good place for that for me. Let's continue sharing the joy of fanfiction!

As a "warning", know that I read mostly Supernatural themed short stories in December. I vaguely sorted them into categories to help others find what they like.

Gen fic

Untitled Reader POV where the reader is living in the bunker with the boys, by @ellen-reincarnated1967. Whatever happened, the Winchesters are here for her. (No pairing)

Out of the closet: a bit of Destiel fluff by @bobwess on AO3. Dean is pretty sure Cas is stealing his clothes, but he isn't sure what to do about it. (Dean x Castiel)

Phone: A cute little AU drabble for Destiel Month by @blessyourhondahurley (Dean x Castiel)

Untitled: Castiel choosing to let his vessel age for… reasons by @aheavenlycreature (Dean x Castiel)

The Steadfast Soul: A wonderful piece about Sam by @posingasme, full of all kinds of love. (Creature!Sam, Very Sastiel-lite, brotherly bound)

We Are Hope: a Castiel ficlet on life and hope and Dean Winchester in early season 15. By @rauko-creates (lite Destiel)

Brotherly Figures: A series with Sam and Dean, both as big brothers to an OC! By @spnexploration (No pairing)

Untitled post-15x18 ficlet: Dean and Cas’ using their words by @queerstudiesnatural (Castiel x Dean)

Snow Globe: a moment of truth and fluff between Dean and the reader by @waywardnerd67 for a Christmas bingo challenge. (Dean x Reader)

Teen and Up

Total Eclipse: A story about longing by @posingasme on AO3 (Sam x Castiel)

Carry on my wayward sons: So much brotherly love in this combo art/fic by @peach-coke created for Supernatural Hiatus Creation (No pairing)

Ghost of Christmas present(s): Christmas fluff after the finale (link toward the AO3 post) by @mittensmorgul (Dean x Castiel)

Like you did: a growing old together story by @posingasme on AO3 for the Gabriel reverse bang 2022 of @gabrielbigbang (Destiel, Sabriel)

Mature

Prompted: wonderful short stories by @bobwess (on AO3), some sweet, some tragic, from Bob's own Twitter prompts. I read chapter 9 and chapter 10 in December and I loved them! (mind the TW for each chapter: Ch. 9 has MCD and possibly homicide; Ch. 10 is pure domestic/Christmas fluff.)

And for stuff unrelated to Supernatural:

Change, a beautiful (and sad) poem by @rauko-is-a-free-elf (original work)

How do you write poetry for someone who is your every moment?, a poem by @rauko-creates (original work)

Don't Drool on Me: By @lemonlillybee (on A03) a kind of slice-of-life sickfic of Tony Stark acting as Peter Parker's parent figure - I didn't even know Iron!Dad was a thing before September, but I found it awesome!

Happy reading, happy sharing, and...

#rec list #fanfiction

[irondadidontfeelsogood]

Tower of Terror (reader request)

cw: vomit. This is another long, self indulgent one, and now one of my favorites—enjoy.

—————

To say that today was a long day would be a drastic understatement. After a school day full of his teachers somehow synchronizing their pop quizzes and exam reviews, he’d headed straight to the tower for training and lab work. His brain and his body are completely fried, so after being granted permission by May, he asks Tony if he can stay the night. He’s not sure he could stay conscious for the subway ride home.

“Sure, Pete. Does that mean you’re ready to cash?”

“Mhm,” Peter hums in response, his eyes threatening to fall shut and not open again.

Tony breathes out a quiet laugh. “Okay. Goodnight, kid.”

Peter murmurs something that sort of sounds like ‘goodnight’ but could also just be a random collection of consonants. He turns away, heading toward the elevator slowly. He feels totally drained, like his limbs each weigh a hundred pounds more than when he’d woken up this morning.

His head is throbbing with what’s sure to become a bad migraine if he doesn’t get to sleep soon. The air gets a little warmer as he ascends the elevator, and that nearly clocks him. He only just makes it to bed before he’s out, basically dead to the world.

Nightmares plague him instantly. He’s tossing at sea, and then he’s buried alive, and then he’s bleeding out fast—all alone in the middle of nowhere. At the end of it all, his heart clenches with the sharp feeling of free-falling, and he wakes abruptly, his lungs greedily gasping for air.

For several minutes, he has no idea where the hell he is. All he knows is that he’s soaked to his mattress in sweat, aching all over, and nauseous to the point of vertigo. He makes the mistake of sitting up. Instantly, the dark room around him seems to tilt forward endlessly, and he grips onto his sheets with white-knuckled fists.

God only knows what time it is or why his shoes are still on. He toes them off, hearing them land unceremoniously on the floor. He sits there for some time, trying desperately to remember anything about what happened before he’d woken up here. Nothing much surfaces.

He calls out for May, and is met with complete silence. That never happens unless she’s taken third shift. Maybe she had to pick up more hours?

Finally, he remembers that he’s at the tower, and he instantly feels worse. Being sick at the tower means he’s either going to suffer alone or bear the colossal embarrassment of having to ask for help from an Avenger. He groans, letting his head fall into his hands.

His headache is still pressing tight against his skull, and he feels like his brain and bones have turned to liquid. His stomach churns. With another groan, he lets himself lie back down against his sweat-cooled pillows.

Though he remains motionless in the dark room, his nausea only grows. He was hoping that it would fade as the nightmares did, but he isn’t so lucky. It feels like he’s swallowed an entire lake.

The internal battle has begun. He imagines how awful it would be for everyone to know. If he started hurling, it wouldn’t be long at all before everyone in the building caught wind of what was going on. FRIDAY isn’t great at keeping secrets.

He’s Spider-Man. He’s supposed to be a hero, not some kid that wakes up in the middle of the night with a tummy ache. The mere idea is mortifying.

Unfortunately, there’s nothing he can do about the circumstances that have been dealt to him, and if he tries to ignore them any longer, things are only going to get worse. So, he forces himself to his feet, feeling weak and full of dread.

The tower is silent as he makes his way to the kitchen, the floor seemingly tilting under his feet. He has to keep a hand on the wall beside him to avoid falling over. The journey feels ten times longer than it usually does.

He’s exhausted when he finally reaches the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge. He fills up a glass of water and sips at it gingerly. It feels nice going down his throat, but not very nice at all sitting on top of the dinner in his stomach. He groans, leaning over the countertop. He burps quietly, nauseated almost beyond what he can handle.

Miserable, he lazily drags his gaze toward the cabinet where Tony keeps all the medicine. Pepto is Peter’s absolute last resort. It almost never works, and it tastes so bad that he’s vomited from the taste alone on many occasions.

Unfortunately, he’s feeling like he might have to try. If he doesn’t, that means he’s accepted the inevitable fate of emptying his stomach in a building full of Avengers. With a dramatic groan, he moves over to the cabinet, grabbing the bottle of neon pink liquid.

He stares at it with distaste, nearly shuddering at just the thought of it. If he’s going to do this it has to be quick, like a shot of tequila. He pours some onto a spoon and stares again.

Finally, he takes it, chasing it immediately with water. He swallows convulsively, begging his stomach to grant him some sort of mercy. He feels a surge of violent nausea and presses a palm over his mouth.

He shuts his eyes, swallows again, and takes several deep breaths through his nose. The wave of nausea passes slowly, painfully. His stomach makes a noise that probably means fuck you.

Fuck you too, he thinks hazily. When he feels like he might be in the clear, he pours out the rest of his water and sets the glass in the sink. His stomach turns over as he begins his walk toward the stairs. Why he picked the stairs over the elevator, he has no idea.

He’s only halfway up when he suddenly feels the worst swell of nausea yet, stopping him right in his tracks. His stomach churns hard, bringing with it a hot, rising feeling in his throat. He cages his mouth again as it rapidly fills with watery spit.

He can feel the color completely drain from his face as he stands frozen on the staircase. His heart is hammering in his chest as he silently begs God, the universe, someone to keep him from puking right now. Unsurprisingly, his prayers go unanswered.

That awful feeling of dread doubles, pouring over him like hot tar. He feels an intense urge to gag, and he’s entirely unable to stop himself from submitting to it. He pitches forward suddenly, spewing a huge gush of pink vomit all over the stairs in front of him.

Again, he vomits, splattering his hours-old dinner all over the hardwood and his socks. Immediately, he throws up again for four straight seconds. He gasps for air afterward, dizzy from the effort of being so sick.

In the eye of the hurricane, he somehow convinces himself that now is his only chance to get to a bathroom. His whole body is shaking as he climbs the rest of the stairs. By the time he reaches the hallway that connects to the one where is room is, he’s sweating bullets and so overwhelmed with nausea that he has to stop again.

He takes one more uncomfortable breath and folds, throwing up all over the floor. With his stomach all but exploding out of him, he can hardly believe that no one has peeked their head out of their room to see what the noise is. At the same time, he’s so incredibly grateful for that.

He takes two more steps and pukes again, even more than he thought possible. He coughs, spewing out mouthfuls of vomit between each one. It’s nearly a full three minutes before he can get himself to stop retching.

He pants for a few more minutes, desperate for air. His vision is blurred with tears of exertion, and even if he weren’t crying, he’d barely be able to see anyway. His head is reeling.

It’s in that moment that he realizes he’s too sick to be alone. The terrible truth sends his heart down to his stomach, and his tears become real. He only allows himself a few minutes to cry in private before he begins to consider his options.

There’s Tony, of course, but he thinks he’d rather die than have Tony see him puke his guts out. There’s Nat, but she might remind him too much of May, and he’s not emotionally stable enough for that right now. He continues to go down the list, and by the end of it, he finds himself settling on Clint.

He has kids, so maybe he’d be a little less traumatized by the whole thing. He’s also generally calmer than most of them, so hopefully he won’t yell or treat him like a burden. Clint it is.

His room is a floor up, so Peter opts for the elevator this time. He wipes the tears from his face and tries his best to regain composure. Unfortunately, he’s still feeling like a giant pile of shit, so it’s easier said than done.

When he reaches Clint’s room, he pauses in front of the door. This is it. Either he leaves the mess and tries to stay conscious long enough to get back to his room, or he tells Clint the truth. As if on cue, he suddenly almost feels more ill than he has all night, apart from right before he’d been sick.

Before he can convince himself otherwise, he knocks on the door. When a minute of silence goes by, he knocks again, a bit louder this time. After a few seconds, he hears shuffling on the other side of the door. He steps back a little, and it slowly swings open to reveal Clint, still half asleep.

“Peter? It’s nearly four in the morning, what are you doing up?”

“Um,” Peter so eloquently breathes out, suddenly unable to get ahold of himself. Fresh tears well up without his permission. “I…I’m…”

Clint’s expression changes from one of confusion to one of parental concern. He steps a little closer.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

A couple tears spill over, and he wipes them away before they reach his chin. He tries again to explain, but he can’t seem to form the words in the right order. This fever must be really cooking his brain.

“Do you wanna come in and talk?” he softly offers.

Peter shakes his head a little. His head spins. “I’m…I need help.”

“What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

Peter shakes his head again. If his stomach wasn’t still sitting high in his throat, this would be much easier. He doesn’t have that luxury, but he tries again.

“I…I just thr—,” is all he manages before his stomach decides to make another appearance. He has all of half a second to aim somewhere else besides Clint’s feet. He turns to the side, vomiting through his fingers, down the front of his shirt, and onto the floor.

“Oh—oh, wow. Okay,” Clint blurts, probably wide awake now. Peter chokes up another round of sick onto his socks. “Alright, hey, come here.”

He takes Peter’s arm and begins leading him into the room. Peter does everything humanly possible to keep from throwing up on Clint’s floor, and when he finally drops to his knees in front of the toilet, he vomits so violently that he sees stars. Clint curses under his breath, a hand resting on Peter’s back as it heaves.

For the next several minutes, Peter is barely lucid. With what little consciousness he has, he tries hard to aim toward the water and nowhere else. He’s made enough of a mess as it is.

“It’s okay, buddy. Breathe,” Clint urges. Peter’s trying.

He’s sure he’s throwing up his actual organs after a few minutes. The only thing he can do is drape over the bowl and try not to pass out. He nearly fails.

Mercifully, he stops throwing up before the lack of oxygen gets to his head. He takes several more minutes to recover. The whole time, Clint is telling him it’s alright, that he’s going to be okay. Peter’s not so sure.

He’s really glad he’s not alone, especially now that he’s gone severely downhill. He can’t imagine being holed up in his room. He’d probably still be decorating the carpet with his stomach contents if he hadn’t come here.

The calm lasts all of eight minutes, and then Peter is suddenly launched into a fit of dry heaving. Despite his stomach being totally empty, the nausea is still rampant. He has no idea what he did to deserve this. Poor Clint doesn’t deserve this either. When he breaks his silence, it’s clear he’s reaching his limit.

“Alright, Pete…try and take it easy, kid. You’re really sick, and I’m…I think I’m gonna have to get Tony.”

That same dread pours over him. That’s the last thing he wanted. Even just the thought makes his face heat up fast. He can’t exactly express his disapproval when he’s actively still gagging. It’s too late, anyway.

“FRIDAY, could you send Tony down here, please?”

“Right away, sir.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs, his hand now rubbing along Peter’s spine.

Only a couple minutes pass before Peter hears Tony’s voice call from inside the room. He groans, lurching forward with another gag. A small trickle of bile comes up this time.

“In here,” Clint calls back.

“What the hell happened out here, Clint? Are you—,” Tony asks, stopping short as he crosses the threshold of the bathroom. Peter can’t help himself. He retches again, another rush of acidic bile washing over the roof of his mouth and into the toilet.

He can only imagine Tony’s reaction to walking in on Peter curled around a toilet full of puke. He’s so mortified he could die. Why does this kind of shit have to happen to him?

“He’s been like this for probably over ten minutes,” Clint explains. “I didn’t really know how to help him or I wouldn’t have woken you up. You know him better than I do.”

“Oh, kid…are you sick or is this a head thing?” Tony asks, taking Clint’s place beside him.

“M’sick,” he manages, half-choked on another heave.

“I’m sorry, Pete. How long have you been feeling bad?”

Thankfully, the retches are tapering off, and he can finally breathe a little. He spits and swallows against the rawness in his throat.

“Only when I woke up a while ago,” he breathes out. Suddenly, he remembers his stunt on the stairs. He groans, letting his head drop to where his arms are folded across the toilet. “I…I threw up all over the stairs and the hall before I came here…m’really sorry, Tony.”

“It’s alright, kid, I know you couldn’t help it.”

“But…”

“It’s okay, really. Do you feel like you’re done?”

Peter hums lowly. He nods. It’s the truth. He’s sure there’s absolutely nothing left in him to throw up, and the nausea is finally waning.

“Alright, good. I’ve got him, Clint, you can go back to sleep.”

“Are you sure? I can start cleaning outside my room.”

Tony shakes his head. “No, it’s fine, I’ve got bots that can do most of it. I’ll handle the stairs. We’re good.”

“Okay, well come get me if you change your mind.”

“You’ve already done enough, thank you for taking him in.”

“It’s no problem.”

With that, Clint leaves, and Tony is alone with Peter in his misery and embarrassment. He offers Peter some toilet paper, and he thanks him, wiping his mouth. He closes the lid and flushes the toilet.

With Tony’s help, he gets up from the floor to wash his mouth out. It makes him feel marginally better. Tony leads him out of the room, and Peter does his best not to gag at seeing the result of his earlier performance in the hallway. Tony starts leading him to his room, and when they get in the elevator, he finally breaks the heavy silence.

“You know you can always come get me if you’re feeling bad, right?”

Peter wilts a little. “I know, thank you, it’s just…I thought I could take some medicine and just go back to sleep, but obviously that didn’t work out. And I really didn’t want to bother a literal Avenger just because I had a stomachache.”

“Well, last time I checked, we’re on a first name basis, so it shouldn’t be that intimidating, kiddo. If you’re feeling like you’re gonna puke, you should let me know. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just…future reference. I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but at least I won’t have to worry about you being passed out in your own sick somewhere.”

It’s nice to know that Tony isn’t pissed or grossed out, but Peter prays he’ll never have to put that earlier offer into practice. He’s had enough of everyone watching him hurl. The heat creeps back up onto his cheeks as they reach his room.

“Okay…m’still sorry I got sick on the floor.”

“It’s completely fine, kid. Don’t worry about it, shit happens. Are you feeling any better?”

Peter shrugs, sitting on the edge of his bed. Tony scoots the trash can over to sit beside his bed. He lets out a short sigh.

“Well, I have a feeling your immune system is going to knock this thing out pretty fast.” Peter hopes he’s right, for both their sakes. “Here, let me get you some clean clothes. Want anything specific?”

Peter shakes his head. Tony nods, turning to the dresser. He brings over a t-shirt, some sweatpants, and clean socks.

“You can just leave the dirty stuff on the floor.”

“M’kay. Thank you.”

“Sure thing, Pete. I’m gonna grab you some water. Hang tight. And remember, you can always call me if you need anything at all.”

“Thank you,” he repeats softly.

When Tony leaves and Peter is done changing out of his dirty clothes, he’s all alone with the memory of tonight. The mortification is stifling, but he pushes the thoughts away with all the mental strength he has left. Turns out it’s not much, and he’s out like a light before Tony even returns.

—————

A/N: Thank you for reading! And thank you for the request! I loved writing this one, and I hope it’s at least a little like what you imagined it would be.

#iron dad #marvel sickfic #peter parker #sickfic #cw vomit #peter parker sickfic #iron dad sickfic #iron man #tony stark #sick #clint barton #hawkeye #hurt/comfort #sickie

[irondadmadlads]

Irondad Prompt #136:

Peter: I’m going to bed! Night Mr. Stark!

Tony: Night, ki- wait…

Peter: ?

Tony: It’s 7:30

Peter: So?

Tony: That’s really early for you! Are you getting sick or something?

Peter: No! Maybe I’m actually taking care of myself for once! *storms off*

Tony: Oh yeah. He’s definitely getting sick.

#iron man #irondad and spiderson #irondad and spiderson prompts #irondad prompts #spider man #spiderson prompts #iron dad #irondad #peter parker #spiderson #mcu tony stark #mcu peter parker #mcu #marvel mcu #marvel #peter parker and tony stark #tony stark #sickfic prompts #sick peter parker #sickfic

[irondad-defensesquad]

current wips (updated!)

the mostly finished ones:

i'll send an SOS to the world - takes place during iron man 3, through uncle ben's pov. peter is devastated upon the news of tony's supposed death. uncle ben can tell how affected peter is, so he tries his best to lift peter's spirits.

if you're going to shoot somebody, shoot me! - peter gets hurt again, but tony is absolutely broken, because peter got hurt outside of patrol. the two were just hanging out when a guy tried to shoot tony, and peter took the bullet instead.

the view from halfway down - TRIGGER WARNING FOR SUICIDE. peter finally tries to end his life, but he gives up on the idea and saves himself. but he ends up halfway down the bridge, and he calls tony for help, fearing his mentor is going to get angry.

you’re all i need to get by - sickfic in which tony gets sick and peter looks after him. eventually, peter kisses tony's forehead without realizing. THIS IS NOT SHIPPY, ISTG

untitled - TRIGGER WARNING FOR SELF-HARM. morgan sees peter's cuts and tries her best to help. eventually she tells tony that peter is hurt.

the rest:

we didn't start the fire, chapter 2 - miles wakes up at an unfamiliar place, but he realizes he's not actually in danger. tony tries to figure out who was the boy that left miles there. basically a spider-verse x mcu crossover where tony is still alive, but he doesn't remember peter.

and i say to myself, what a wonderful world - short fic that takes place before peter travels to europe in ffh. but here tony is alive and he doesn’t want to stay away from peter after the last five years. it's more light-hearted than it sounds, trust me. inspired by the ending of finding nemo :)

i need some sleep - tony finds peter wearing the spider-man suit late at night, but he finds out that the kid isn’t fighting anyone. peter is just talking to karen, and tony learns a lot more about him.

and then you’re left in the dust - a sequel to kid arachnid, part of the miles in the mcu series, in which mcu!miles meets peter and tony, and he eventually gets spider-powers. tony starts mentoring him before the events of endgame. suddenly, one day, miles’ father, who was dusted, returns as if nothing happened. miles later finds out peter and everyone else is back once he visits tony.

untitled - sequel to and the void stares back. after tony adopts tony jr., a black cat, peter brings an orange kitten home. much to his and tony's surprise, junior quickly adopts the kitten. shenanigans ensue.

p.s. say edith - another mcu x spider-verse crossover! miles graduates from school and all his spider-friends attend. peter shows up wearing cool glasses miles has never seen before. sadly, tony is dead in this one.

turn the lights off, carry me home - peter has an anxiety attack, and ned does his best to help. since they can't get aunt may, ned suggests they call tony. peter is against that, mostly bc he knows tony would pick him up and help him out. peter just hates getting in the way.

unsure about these:

i've become so numb (title might be changed) - peter is working in the lab while tony is out, when (alive) howard stark enters without anyone's permission. howard is clearly a dick to peter, but the kid is furious when the man insults tony and all his hard work. peter won't stand for that. i'm a little concerned this one might be too similar to you keep me searching for a heart of gold...

dad sneeze (title might be changed) - based on a post by @/fotibrit, peter never understood what was so funny about dad sneezes, until he hears tony sneeze incredibly loud. it's just fluff.

#lotus speaks #my fics #my wips

[willowbot2000]

My Least And Most Favorite Irondad Spiderson Tropes

Favorite Irondad Spiderson Fanfiction Tropes

Anorexic Peter/Peter with an eating disorder- I read this really cool one, I don’t remember the name or the author, but inside of it, Peter was purging himself and he wouldn’t eat anything with bread for some reason.  Tony finds out because Peter passes out while going on a run.

Abusive partner/Guardian- My absolute two favorites of these fics are “Please Understand” by Jipseebree and “Hindsight,” by elphreak they are masterpieces.  I originally read those like five years ago, and I recently read them again.  I really recommend them if they also like that trope.

Caring for the other person after a bad fight- I don’t really have any recommendations for this one, but I do really like this trope.  It’s always so heartwarming.

Sickfic- I love this one.  Especially when Tony gets called to Peter’s school to pick him up.

Cuddles- Literally what I live for.  It’s so cute, especially if they’re watching movies together.

Intoxicated Peter/Tony- I read one of these where Peter gets intoxicated on a roof and tries to jump off it, but Tony stops him.

Peter being scared and confused in hospital- I don’t know any good ones for this one either, but I’ve read so many of these and they’re so good.  I remember reading one a while back where Peter ends up ripping the IV’s out of himself while trying to run away.

Concussions- There aren’t many of these and I wish there were more.  I love this one, especially when Peter confuses Tony with his Uncle Ben and he has a breakdown.

One of Tony’s suits gets hacked- I read one, I think it was called “Taxi” where Tony’s suit gets hacked and Tony has to watch the suit beat up Peter.

Peter staying at the lakehouse with the Stark family to deal with something traumatic (ex. After Far From Home, After May dies, Bad time settling in college ect.)- I also love these.  I read one where Peter comes to stay with Tony after Far From Home and Tony has to remind Peter every few minutes that he’s not in an illusion or else Peter has a breakdown.

Torture fics- I’m reading this one called “Someday (I’ll make it out of here)” by the-color-pomegranet.  It is literally the best torture fic I’ve read.  It’s like forty something chapters, but I promise it’s worth it.

The Avengers make fun of Peter and Tony gets angry at them- I read one of these where they make fun of Peter for not knowing how to shave and so Peter tries to shave on his own.  He ends up cutting himself and so Tony steps in and shows him how to shave.

Least Favorite Troupes

Baby Peter- I would like them if they all weren’t written similar with Peter doing something that normal Peter does all the time, but Tony is scared about bc he’s a baby, like Peter crawling on the ceiling and Tony trying to get him down in fear of him getting hurt

Field Trip/Peter’s friends meeting Tony- I used to like this trope, but I feel like it’s been a bit overdone.  I also honestly think if Peter actually visited the Tower/Compound with his class or friends, Tony and the other Avengers would just treat Peter like another kid visiting the tower/compound in fear of giving away his identity.

Movie Night with Avengers- I also feel like this trope has also been overdone and they all are similar.  It’s just the Avengers cooing over Peter or telling Tony he’s such a dad and in these fics in particular, Tony always ends up having custom made pajamas for him and Peter that are Spider-Man or Iron Man onesies.

Harley and Peter being siblings- I honestly don’t know why I don’t like this one.  I have a similar opinion on the fics with Nebula or Wanda being his older sisters.  I think it’s just bc I feel like those characters wouldn’t get along with Peter’s bubbly additude.  Harley is usually written as a grudge emo boy, Nebula is really cold, and Wanda is always in a sad depressed mood in the most recent movies.  Like I could see Peter and Morgan getting along bc they have similar bubbly personalities.

Fics that take place during olden times- I don’t really like these ones, like the medieval, old wild west, and just writing them in the past.  I feel like it takes away from their characters.  Especially with Tony since his whole personality is based around him being a genius with futuristic technology.

#irondad #spiderson #fanfiction

[lmeskitz]

Hello my peeps! I’m posting my first story on here. Originated on Wattpad, link will be at the end if you want to check it out, but it’s written by me! :)

(Trix_TheEnby_fish is my Wattpad username!)

Request- nope

Pronouns used- He/Him

Title- Peter Parker x sick!Reader

Origin- Wattpad

Word count- 1000+ (I added some words lol)

A/n- this originally had she/her pronouns, but I changed it! ^^

Find my Masterlist here

****************************************************

PETER PARKER X SICK!READER

****************************************************

3rd person POV

Y/n peeled his eyes open, feeling groggy and more tired then usual. His whole body ached and his nose was congested. As he sat up, he shook with chills. He wrapped his f/c blanket around himself tightly and made his way towards the common room.

He was almost there when he felt a weight on his shoulder. Y/n looked up to see Peter Parker looking at him with a worried expression. He was saying something, but y/n’s brain couldn’t comprehend what it was. He could see black spots starting to dance in the corners of his vision. Unknowing to him, he started to sway. He landed in strong arms as he let his vision fade to black.

PETER’S POV

I was walking around Stark towers because I was bored out of my mind. As I’m walking around, I come across y/n heading towards the common room. Damn, he looked terrible. His skin was sickly pale and his cheeks were flushed. He also had his f/c blanket wrapped around him.

“Hey y/n, are you okay?” I call out to him from across the room.

He didn’t seem to have heard me so I made my way over to him and put my hand in his shoulder. He looked back at me, and I could tell with just one look that he had a fever. His hair was drenched in sweat and he looked like he could pass out at any minute.

“Are you okay y/n? You look really si-” I couldn’t even finish my sentence before he was passed out cold in my arms.

“Y/n?! Shit…uhhh…dammit.” I do my best to support his body weight and carry drag him into the common room.

**********COMMON ROOM**********

Natasha, Tony, and Bruce were sitting in the common room.

“Mr. Stark? *puff* Y/n *puff* fainted in my*puff* arms” I panted while carrying dragging him into the room.

“Oh shit! Is he okay? Did he hurt himself-” Tony fired questions while Natasha stood up and took y/n from me and laid him on the couch. She then left the room and returned with a damp washcloth, placing it on his way to warm forehead and sitting next to him on the couch.

“Nghh, what happened?” Y/n asked. Everyone’s heads including mine snapped towards him.

“You fainted, how are you feeling?” Natasha said, patting his head with the damp washcloth.

“Like shit” he replied, his voice raspy.

“Let’s get you to Med-Bay, that way I can see what’s wrong with you y/n.” said Bruce, already on his way to Med-Bay.

Tony scooped y/n off the couch and carried him bridal style, trailing behind Bruce to Med-Bay.

Natasha and I followed behind them all, also making our way to Med-Bay.

While Tony and Bruce were walking ahead with y/n, Natasha turned to me with a smirk.

“You like him a lot.” She says, smugness (is that a even a word?) evident in her voice.

“W-what?! Noooo of course not!……….Okay, maybe I do, but who doesn’t?! The way his smile brightens up the room, and how he gets excited over the tiniest things!!” I said with a sigh.

Natasha smiled, “ you should tell him.”

“You think he feels the same?” I ask.

“ I know he does.” She replied.

After a couple minutes we finally get to Med-Bay. Tony laid y/n down on one of the beds while Bruce was getting a cotton swab ready. Me, Natasha, and Tony all sat in chairs. I cringed as y/n sat upright on the bed, and Bruce stuck the swab down his throat. He gagged a little, but once Bruce was done y/n laid back down and almost instantly fell asleep. Bruce went to go scan his swab to see what was wrong.

A little while later Bruce came back and said it was just a really bad cold, and that there were no viruses or infections. He instructed us to make sure that y/n got plenty of rest, fluids, and fever reducer.

“That’s such a relief!” Tony sighed. He then went over to the sleeping boy and gently picked him up. Tony carried the sick boy back to his room while Natasha went to get the fever reducers. I decided to follow Tony to y/n’s room.

When we got to y/n’s room, Tony laid him in his bed and went to go get another cold compress, while Natasha set some fever reducers on his nightstand and proceeded to leave. Tony then came back and handed me the compress whilst he proceeded to leave as well.

I place my hand on the poor boy’s shoulder and lightly shake him saying his name in the softest voice I can muster. His y/e/c eyes flutter open and I help him sit up and lean him against the headboard of his bed. I hand him the pills and some water and he takes them, not fully aware of what was going on. Once he was finished taking the medicine, I get up to let him rest when I feel a hand on mine.

I look to see him staring at me with the most adorable look I’ve ever seen. My heart absolutely melted at the sight, “please don’t leave yet.” He said, voice slightly cracking.

My face flushed a bright red, and I maneuver to get on the other side of him and lay down. He moved his head onto my chest and closed his eyes. His breaths evened out, and he was asleep.

I look down to this amazing boy, he’s so adorable I’m about to die. I guess I can rest my eyes as well, so there I was falling asleep with the boy of my dreams in my hands.

****************************************************

****************************************************

A/n- lord have mercy on my soul. I cringed when I re-read this. ;^; I stg my writing is soooo cringyyyyy :,)

Anyways, requests are open, and I hope all you lovelies have an amazing day/night! :D

Here is the link my peeps ⬇️⬇️⬇️

https://www.wattpad.com/1125539560?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create_writer&wp_uname=Trix_TheEnby_Fish&wp_originator=zK2AvT3vVEX%2FJZ5VsschdIWJ3n%2B77fDenQHW3DTt7uGfE92DFq267OBPPoJC7hPmq5os%2B%2B6E%2FH2f%2FKmYfQ5n8S0aXS%2BYxHWMXp7zlbz0QSE3v5IzpkzBd0jwWGQUtoBw

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x male reader #male reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #sick reader #sickfic #sick male reader #spiderman #tony stark #son reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #iron man #iron dad #black widow #bruce banner