spider man fever


anonymous asked:

I'm ecstatic that you are writing spider-man fics now! I am obsessed with tiny, adorable Peter and of course dad!Tony. Could you do one where Tony has to take sick Peter to a doctor (or bring a doctor to the tower for Peter) but Peter is terrified of doctors because of bad experiences and in his confused state of mind thinks he's being punished/hurt? Thank you!

I’m so sorry this took so long, but it’s finally done and I’ll hopefully be posting some more prompt fills soon. please tell me what you think? I know this one isnt very good but I hope you like it anyway, I kind of based it on the same timeline as my other spider-man fic “I’m sorry, Tony.” So that I could have an excuse as to why he was so afraid of doctors. Anyway thank you so much for the prompt!! It’s called “Fevers, fears, and falls.” 

Peter’s head pounded with each heartbeat, as he swung across rooftops. He’d been feeling sick all day, and everyone had told him he should go home, but he was Spider-Man, he couldn’t just take days off.

Ned had been particularly worried, urging him not to go to his usual after school, extra-curricular activities.

“You’re sick! You shouldn’t even be in class, you can’t go fight crime like this! You could get hurt.” His concerned eyes and quiet words had almost convinced Peter to go home, but the thought of someone needing help, while he was slacking off, was intolerable.

He remembered his words to Tony, that first time they met, about why he had become Spider-Man.

“When you can do the things that I can, but you don’t, and then the bad things happen…they happen because of you.”

He couldn’t let anyone get hurt just because he was feeling a little under the weather. So, there he was, swinging around and pretending he didn’t want to go to bed.

He crawled up the side of a building and perched on a windowsill as he rubbed at his temples through his mask. Why couldn’t his damn headache just go away? He had stuff to do, he didn’t have time to be sick.

Karen’s calm voice came to Peter’s ears, quieter than usual, so as not to worsen his already sore head. She was great like that.

“Your temperature just rose by another degree. If it continues, it will be classed as a fever and I will have to inform Mr Stark.”

The teenager groaned and fired another web to the next building. “Don’t call him, I’m fine. I’m just going to do a quick round of the city to make sure everything’s okay and then I’ll go home.”

He stumbled a little as he got to his feet, and steadied himself on the webs he’d placed, before taking a breath and swinging off.

It was harder to focus with a pounding head, and the clammy hot-cold feeling he had over his whole body, but he continued none the less.

It was a quiet afternoon, with only a few minor incidents to help with. Peter stopped a mugger before a punch was landed, and returned the stolen bag, as well as helped a class of kids cross the street. The teacher had been very grateful and a few of the kids had clung to his legs and demanded they were in love with him. That had cheered him up a bit and he didn’t feel so useless.  

But the longer he was out, the worse he felt, and pretty soon he didn’t even have the energy for web slinging.

His head was swirling and it was getting harder to think straight. He wasn’t even sure where he was in the city now, standing on the edge of a building with his fingers pressing to his temples in a further attempt to soothe his splitting headache.

Karen’s voice seemed a little further away and swirly than it had a minute ago.

“Peter, your fever is continuing to rise. I think I should call Mr Stark now.”

The teenager tried to reply but all that came out was a moan, and his head spun further. Having dizzy spells really wasn’t a good idea when you were so high up, as Peter was. His vision blurred and his feet stumbled, and he fell.

Karen’s voice called his name, quick and panicked, and Peter tried to save himself before he splattered on the concrete. He fired a web and held on, but it was too late, the web slowed his decent but he still hit the ground hard, landing heavily on his left arm.

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anonymous asked:

I would honestly love it if you did 82 xx

Alright, here we go!  Peter’s not feeling so great, so his mission doesn’t go so great.  Cue Tony discovering he does have a heart after all (at least somewhat).

I didn’t realize how many mission fics I put on the list, and now I’m getting overwhelmed/lame with my ideas for missions.  I’m really sorry about that.


“Follow him!” Tony shouts, pointing at the ski-masked, ATM-robbing bandit tearing his way down the sidewalk.

Peter takes a breath and fights through the fog in his head to pay attention and process Mr. Stark’s directions.

Follow him.  Alright.  He can do that.  Or, he probably could if he had any idea which direction the dude had run in.  Peter looks up at Mr. Stark, his blank expression thankfully obscured by his own mask.

“Yeah, nice hustle there,” Tony says, a note of irritation tainting his voice.  He looks away from the alien chainsaw-wielding criminal he’s fighting to point Peter down the sidewalk.  “If you lose him, that one’s on you.”

“Ok, ok,” Peter says, snuffing a drip of snot back down his throat.  He tracks the black knit ski mask with his eyes for a moment, then starts up at a jog.

“Swinging would be a lot faster if you want to cut him off,” Mr. Stark shouts after him.

Oh.  Yeah.  Duh.  Peter deliberates shooting a rope of web up to the nearest street lamp, but considering how dizzy he’s feeling with both feet on the ground, he’s not eager to web himself anywhere.  Instead, he keeps running and aims his web shooter at the back of the bandit’s head.

It turns out to be an even stupider move.  The tacky surface of the web sticks to the ski mask and boomerangs the soft wool hat back into Peter’s hand.  “Fuck,” he mutters, shaking his wrist so the piece of clothing will drop from where it’s adhered itself to his suit.

Wait, no, he’s losing time.  The bandit is getting away.  What is he doing?  Peter feels stupid as he looks up, scanning the crowded street for the criminal.  Then Peter realizes he doesn’t have the slightest idea what he looks like without the mask.  Or even if it is, in fact, a man.

Looking back over his shoulder, he sees Mr. Stark using his Ironman suit’s pulsar blasts to destroy the other robber’s weapon.  He doesn’t want to run back to the ATM and admit his failure.  Plus, jogging is making his already achy head pound all the harder.  But Peter doesn’t see a lot of better options.

By the time he’s crept up behind Mr. Stark, a police officer has arrived and is placing the angry criminal in cuffs, then pushing him into a waiting police car.  Peter watches the scene dazedly, unaware of how much he’s in the way, standing there like a Spiderman street performer.

“Ok, come here,” Mr. Stark says, putting his hand in the middle of Peter’s back and pushing him down an alley so he’s no longer blocking the sidewalk.  The metal of the Ironman suit’s glove is painfully hard and cold against Peter’s skin, even though his body is covered in his suit’s micro armor and spandex.

Mr. Stark shoves Peter up against the brick wall of a building, then retracts his face plate so Peter can see his sweaty and rather livid face. “What’s going on with you today?  You’re slow, you lost a suspect.  This isn’t like you.”

“Hey, I—I’m really sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, fumbling his mask off with shaky, hands.  The chilly November air hits his face and lights up patches of clammy sweat, making him feel like ice cubes are pressing to his face.  “I don’t know what…I just feel, like, kinda off, I guess…”

“If you want to do this, you can’t have off days,” Mr. Stark says, pushing a metal finger into Peter’s chest.

New shivers run up and down Peter’s spine, sending tremors right up into his shoulders.

“Come on, it’s not that cold.”  Mr. Stark rolls his eyes.  “Or are you gonna start crying?  Either way, I don’t have a lot of sympathy for you.”

“I’m ok,” Peter says quickly.  “I’m sorry.  I just, like, I don’t mean it as an excuse or anything.”  The longer he stands there, the more his nose drips backwards down his prickling throat, the more his lower back aches, the more his upper lip bristles with fresh perspiration… “I kinda don’t feel good.”

“You don’t feel good?” Mr. Stark repeats, giving Peter a thorough looking over.

“I’m sorry.”

“Shut up, ok?”  Tony raises his still-gloved hand to Peter’s forehead.  “FRIDAY, can you run diagnostic?”

There’s a slight whirring sound.  Then the accented voice reports, “Mr. Parker has a body temperature of 101.6 degrees Fahrenheit.  He appears to have symptoms consistent with the common cold.”

“Kind of a high fever for a cold, though,” Mr. Stark comments.

Peter shrugs.  Snuffs up a drip that threatens to fall from the end of his nose.

“Hey, don’t do that.  That’s gross.  That’s gonna make you puke,” Mr. Stark chastises him.  “Here’s what we’re gonna do.  Happy’s gonna pick you up.  Bring you a change of clothes.  Take you home.”

“But, the mission?” Peter asks.  He feels like there are cotton balls in his ears, fuzzing up his hearing and making his mental processing speed slower than the postal service.

“It’s done, kid.  There’s not a lot we can do without a visual on the one that got away…”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter says for a third time.  “I didn’t mean to…”

“Stop apologizing,” Tony commands.  “You’re sick.  You’re not firing on all cylinders.  It’s…it’s ok.”

“But I fucked up!”

“Yeah, but I’m not gonna bite your head off for it.  Not right now when I know you feel like shit.  That would… that wouldn’t do any good,” Tony says.  “And please don’t pick up my profanity habit.”

Peter smiles in spite of himself.

“Ok, I’m gonna call May, tell her you’re sick and Happy’s dropping you off at home,” Mr. Stark informs him.  “So shut up, unless you need to cough or sneeze or something.  That could be good sound effects.”

anonymous asked:

Super blegh over Bandiesnootch Cumberbum as our darling Steven Strange. Any GOOD Steven to remind me of the good times?

Well, my knowledge of Doctor Strange is limited to:

A) That time he lost his wife/girlfriend to Ben Franklin.

B) That time Spider-Man got super high and had to crash at his place for like a week.

(These are the only parts of Spider-Man: Fever I can post that won’t instantly transport you to a realm of chaos and confusion.)

C) When he had hemorrhoids during the Dead Girl miniseries.