sicklylittlesnowflake - Tumblr blog

sicklylittlesnowflake · 6 years

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(Belated Birthday Drabble for my good friend @coughdontfeelwellcough <33 sorry it's so late, I've been sick + been on an airplane home! Sorry this isn't my best work, this is literally no plot and just sickness lmao..I've been super busy and tomorrow's my birthday lmao, everyone in my life seems to have a birthday in August lmao! But anyway, love u lots bb, hope you can deal with this trash, u deserve better but I'm mediocre lol!)

"Now boarding for the 2:00 am flight to Paris,"

Grantaire perked up, ready to completely stand up and stretch but quickly remembered who was sleeping on his shoulder. He looked over at his boyfriend, looking soft and peaceful, so incredibly handsome and beautiful that it broke his heart he would have to break this serenity.

"Apollo, baby, it's time to get up," He whispered softly, giving him a gentle nudge.

Enjolras slowly opened his eyes, groggy and exhausted looking. He stifled two coughs against the crook of his arm and nodded, "Okay, lets go."

The blonde leaned against the brunette as they both lined up to present their boarding passes and passports, quieter than he usually was. He looked distant; a dazed look glazing his eyes.

Grantaire frowned, wrapping one arm around his boyfriend's shoulders, bringing in him closer so that he could kiss his temple, "You alright, E?"

Enjolras blinked, "Hmm? Yeah..just.."

He paused to sneeze into his elbow.

"I don't feel all too well," He said quietly, in a tone so glum and miserable it was breaking his heart. Enjolras didn't admit defeat this easy. It worried him. It only meant that he was truly feeling horrid.

Grantaire's frown deepened, "Oh, E..How long have you felt sick?"

Enjolras sniffled and coughed, "I felt a bit sick the past two days, after we left the resort. Nothing too serious. Just sneezing more than usual and my throat felt kinda sore. I couldn't get warm the other night and today I just felt really shitty."

"Why didn't you say anything to me sooner?"

"I didn't want to worry you. I know airports stress you out and I didn't think it would be a big--" Enjolras pauses to cough a wet, congested cough, "big deal."

Grantaire couldn't help the fond smile that graced his lips and pulled in the boy closer to him, "I'm never stressed out when you're here. You relax me."

Enjolras scoffs a little, smiling a little, "I thought I was bound to give you an ulcer?"

"Well. That too. Things aren't always black and white," Grantaire chuckles and hands over his passport and boarding pass to the lady, an action that Enjolras mimics after he is in the clear.

They're both silent on the way toward the plane, and it's only broken as Enjolras struggled to lift his and Grantaire's carry on into the overhead compartment. Enjolras wasn't weak by any means at all; he could easily lift it on their plane ride to their destination.

"E, I've got it--" Grantaire cut in.

"No, I'm fine," Enjolras choked, his voice strained by an upcoming cough as his legs shook like jelly, barely able to push the luggage far back and quickly closing the compartment to collapse onto his seat, falling into a series of hacking coughs that didn't seem to stop and leeching each minuscule drop of energy he had left.

Grantaire was at his side immediately, rubbing up his back to try and ease the coughing. It took a while, but eventually it subsided. Enjolras heaved and panted as he tried to catch his breath, suddenly freezing and tensing.

Grantaire turned around to meet several gazes of disgust and annoyance, glaring at them and turning back to his boyfriend, unfazed.

"'Taire.."

"Don't worry about it," Grantaire quickly interjected, to which the blonde simply sighed and began to settle into his seat.

The two sat in silence as the air hosts and hostesses began to do a quick check up and as their TVs began to display the precautions. The entire plane was silent besides the occasional baby cry or sniffle coming from Enjolras. Every time he did Grantaire's heart broke a little, and each little cough that came from him caused him to squeeze his hand a little tighter.

Grantaire had become engrossed in the movie he had put on, until he heard a desperate, hitching breath coming from his boyfriend who inched himself away from everyone to sneeze a fit into his steepled hands.

Grantaire pulled out a packet of tissues provided in the pocket of the seat ahead of him, ripping it open and handing it to his boyfriend who gratefully accepted it, continuing his fit.

Grantaire had began to notice the glares and disgusted looks being directed towards Enjolras; and worry began to fill his heart knowing that he wouldn't take the venom so well. Enjolras, despite all his attempts to appear made of marble, was sensitive. He felt very deeply. He aimed to please people; and he knew any form of discontentment would break his heart. Futilely, Grantaire angled his body, leaning against his TV to try and block the people staring at them.

But Enjolras wasn't dumb. Once he finished and opened his watering, reddened eyes he saw past Grantaire's weak defence and he could see the light dulling in Enjolras's eyes. He froze, hands still clutching the tissue to his nose beginning to shake violently from anxiety and shame. He put down the tissue and broke the contact with the venomous glares and bit his lip so hard Grantaire feared he would begin to bleed.

His eyes, glazed from what he thought had to be a fever, were beginning to water. Grantaire wasn't quite sure if he was going to sneeze again or if he was going to cry. Either way it made Grantaire heart cry in pity.

Enjolras's breath began to pick up, nails digging into his palms as he pretended to continue watching his movie, but of course he wasn't actually listening to it. Grantaire connected to him on a level that couldn't quite be explained and he knew what he was thinking. He knew the vicious and self loathing thoughts Enjolras was thinking right now.

Grantaire reached for Enjolras's hand, loosening it so his nails no long dug into his palms, and instead slipped his own hand into it to try and provide Enjolras with the love and care he needed right now.

His lip wobbled a little, whispering feverishly, "Everybody's mad."

Enjolras didn't deal well with people being angry with him. Grantaire knew this. Everyone close to him knew this. It was something embedded into his past that shook him so violently it left him forever changed, and as much as Grantaire wished he could take this away, it was a part of him, all he could do was help him through times like these.

"You shouldn't care," Grantaire started, feeling that lying and coddling wasn't healthy.

Enjolras coughed, a single tear slipping to which he quickly wiped away, his eyes welling up so much tears could fall any second, "But I do. I hate disappointing people. I'm so..ashamed."

Grantaire pulled Enjolras close and kissed his golden curls, "Its the people you should be disappointed in. It's disappointing they've lost their humanity and can't even find it in their hearts to sympathise, or even just leave alone a guy they know is clearly miserable. They're disgusting. Not you."

Enjolras sneezed into his sleeve. "I'm not disappointed. It's just human. I'm disappointed in myself."

Grantaire smiled softly, "Its what makes you so good. You should never be disappointed in yourself. Despite how shitty the world has been to you, you still see the light in it. I don't know how you do it; but because of that, you shouldn't feel shame in yourself."

Enjolras wiped away another tear, cuddling up to Grantaire as another chesty cough escaped him, "I just hate when people are mad at me."

Grantaire sighed and kissed his temple, "I know you do. But you're most likely never going to see these people again. You gotta remember that there are people back home who aren't mad at you and are ready to care for you. So you gotta get through these next ten hours, filled with shitty people, but I promise you'll be okay."

"And I'm here. I love you, and I'm going to be here, ready to snuggle you and annoy you for as long as I can have you," Grantaire whispered lovingly.

Enjolras coughed again, but finally managed a smile, "I'm totally okay with that."

#enjolras #grantaire #exr #les mis #Les Miserables #les mis 2012 #tveitjolras #e/r #whump #sickfic #tw self harm #but not really>#its not intended as it #but im just being cautious in case some find it triggering

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sicklylittlesnowflake · 6 years

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!!! Bab do u want a fic or anything? I'm on holiday hiatus currently but for birthdays I make exceptions <333

It's my birthday!!

I’m 21 today 🎉🎉

#personal

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sicklylittlesnowflake · 6 years

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Yikes I got cut off again; but everyone is being super sweet about my fic and I'm!! So!!! Happy!! Thank u so much <33

YOU SAID TOGS! ARE YOU FROM NZ???!!! ALSO THE LANGST WAS GOOODDDDDD

AAAA I’m sorry bby but I’m from Ireland!!! (Im a 1st gen Filipino immigrant tho) but aaa someone else who says swimming togs!!! I’m currently on holiday in the Philippines and I’ve gotten so much shit from my family for saying swimming togs lmao..but dude; id love to go to NZ one day..pls take me to NZ lol!!! And also thank u so much!! I’m so glad u liked it

#asks

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sicklylittlesnowflake · 6 years

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YOU SAID TOGS! ARE YOU FROM NZ???!!! ALSO THE LANGST WAS GOOODDDDDD

AAAA I'm sorry bby but I'm from Ireland!!! (Im a 1st gen Filipino immigrant tho) but aaa someone else who says swimming togs!!! I'm currently on holiday in the Philippines and I've gotten so much shit from my family for saying swimming togs lmao..but dude; id love to go to NZ one day..pls take me to NZ lol!!! And also thank u so much!! I'm so glad u liked it

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sicklylittlesnowflake · 6 years

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(Hey anon! Love the prompt but I have adapted it to make it a Lance’s Birthday fic!! Hbd to the my fav blue boy!! <33 Here’s a shitty langst fic lmaoo)

When the entire fate of the universe rests upon your shoulders it’s very hard to think of anything else.

There is just too much at stake and as much as Lance has dreamt of being a hero, it requires focus, attention. There is simply no time for anything extra and unnecessary.

But he’s human, of all the Paladins of voltron he is by far the Everyman, he isn’t larger than life in any sense. He allows himself some small extra thing, to keep himself sane. Lance keeps track of the days that goes by. He keeps a calendar, he knows each day, each month. He knows how long they’ve been here.

He knows when it’s his siblings’ birthdays. He knows when Veronica’s turned 21, or when his cousin is having her quinceañera. When those days come he takes a moment to himself to remember, and if he does exist, pray to God to keep said family member safe and happy on their special day.

As Lance checks off his calendar he’s made for himself he realises the days inches further towards his own birthday and it doesn’t really seem to matter. There are things more important than that. He only loved his birthday because of his family, and he did consider of doing something small with his new, surrogate family, but he decided against it. The Voltron team were doing a rather taxing, long mission that had sapped energy out of all of them and he didn’t want to bother anyone. Days of rest were scarce, but valuable. He didn’t dare ruin that. He had decided to keep quiet.

Lance had felt pretty off that whole day. It started off as just a little bit of a sore throat, and he felt a little bit more tired than usual, but everybody was exhausted so he figured it wasn’t anything too serious. He went on with the rest of the day as normal, fighting alien ships and whatnot, and by the end of it Lance felt so incredibly heavy like he could sink down his seat and collapse on the floor. He could barely find the strength to keep himself upright.

He feels so incredibly fatigued, and it seeps through his bones. His throat is horribly sore and his nose is in a constant state of itchiness and he can’t go by five minutes without having to stifle a cough or sneeze. He feels dizzy too, his mind detached from his reality and he doesn’t quite feel he is there. He doesn’t even have the energy to make quips or yell out his usual silly battle cries.

“Great job, team,” Shiro praises as the lions tread back towards the Castle.

“Once we get home, grab a meal, and straight off to bed, we need as much rest as we possibly can. Tomorrow’s another day. We need to be as prepared and equipped for it as possible,” He explains.

“Roger that, Shiro,” Keith nods, his lion following suit.

Lance feels his nose start to burn, his breath catches and he turns himself away from the microphone as to avoid essentially sneezing right into his teammates’ ears. The sneezes are ticklish, quiet, but harsh in a sickly kind of manner.

“Bless you!” Hunk chirps.

He flushes a little at the failure of his plan, but keeps himself composed and clears his throat, sniffling, “Thanks.”

“You okay, Lance?” Keith questions, concern lacing his words.

“M'fine, just something in the air I guess.”

Keith shifts uncomfortably as his lion mounts onto the castle, fully expecting some quip as a response, and possibly a jab at him too, but when it doesn’t come it leaves a strange feeling in his stomach.

[***

Once the Paladins are out of their armour they all beeline towards the common room where everyone flops down onto the couches and groans in exhaustion.

Lance revels in the soft pillowy cushions that is the couch, offering ease to his aching, heavy body. However he is suddenly attacked by a headache, pulsating throughout his head ravaging everything in sight. He hisses in pain, scrunching up his face to brace it, a hand shooting up to try and ease it.

He knows he can’t just leave this thing alone. He’s passed the denial phase, he’s sick and he knows it, and there is zero use in leaving it untreated because there’s no room for slacking or underperforming, not when the universe is at stake.

“Does anyone know if there’s any medicine around here?” He asks hoarsely.

No one replies; and Lance is sure that nobody means anything malicious by it, and as he looks around his thoughts are confirmed because everyone is heaving and panting in exhaustion, too wrapped up in their own exhaustion that they didn’t quite hear him, and if they did they had no energy to reply to him.

Lance bites his tongue then, he doesn’t need to bother anyone. Some sleep was probably enough.

Shiro enters the room then, and as his eyes lay upon the wrecked and fatigued Paladins he can’t help a fond smile, “Alright everybody. We’ve got quite a day, tomorrow. Head off to bed for the night, get some rest and we’ll see you all tomorrow.”

Pidge and Keith nod, hauling their bodies off the couch and dragging themselves towards their bedroom.

“Come on, Lance, get up!” Pidge snaps, gesturing towards the boy who still hadn’t gotten off the couch, still heaving in exhaustion.

“Sorry–just super tired,” He mumbles.

“We all are,” She sighs and gets on her way.

Eventually Lance finds some strength to push himself off the comforts of the couch. He’s sloppy and as he lifts himself off the couch his knees buckle and he’s almost hitting the ground, but his hand quickly grips onto something and holds himself steady. He can’t quite walk in a straight line as the world seems to be spinning around like he’s on some carousel. He drags himself towards his bedroom, exiting the common room.

Hunk is still sitting on the couch, looking rather thoughtful.

“C'mon, Hunk, off to bed.” Shiro chuckles fondly. Hunk smiles softly.

“Uh, actually, Shiro..could I talk to you, for a sec?”

The moment Lance is by himself in the comforts of his own room he completely lets himself go. He lets himself shiver, lets his legs tremble and he lets himself cough, cough so harshly that it’s bending him over and the sheer force of it is just so much he needs to sit down onto his bed, anchor himself onto the edge and bend double. He feels dreadful in every sense of the word.

He rolls underneath his covers to try and rid himself of the cold waves that is making him shiver. But the covers are too warm and he’s being eroded away by hot waves rushing up and down his blood stream. He’s either too hot or too cold and he’s so uncomfortable he can’t help the pathetic whimper that escapes his lips. His skin feels dry; and he has no energy to do his usual skin routine and it sours his mood further. It’s dumb, but something as small as some small self pampering helps Lance unwind and relax.

He shifts and rolls over in discomfort, unable to locate a position that offers some sense of comfort. He’s so tired but he can’t sleep and it’s the worst feeling in the world, he feels so desperate and out of control. He opens his heavy eyes to see his calendar, picking up the pen and crossing off this day and he realises what day tomorrow is.

Lance feels so dumb and so selfish when he feels a pang of sadness as he laments his birthday. How can he be so self indulgent when the survival of the universe hangs in the balance? He’s human, and he desperately wants a day with his family, a day where he can feel alright. But instead here’s here, sick and miserable.

The burning in his head ravages on and spreads towards his nose and he inhales deeply as the tickle spreads like wildfire. He pushes his face into his pillow and lets out two harsh, powerful sneezes, extremely unlike him, they’re never usually this loud, and they make him feel miserable. He lets out a whimper, and in his feverish haze he can sense his loving sister smile softly at him and hear her bless him in that sugary sweet voice of hers.

He can feel his brother’s warm hands massage his shoulders to comfort him, patting him on the back, trying to make him feel better. He can smell his mother’s soup, warm and comforting, heating his soul. He feels so safe, so warm, so loved.

Then he breaks out of his trance, abruptly, rudely, and the cold reality comes seeping back in.

Lance bites back his sob, the sadness and loneliness beginning to spread around his body until it swallows him whole. He count help his tears and sobs as they rush out of the floodgates. He clasps his hand around his mouth to try and stifle the pathetic whimpers as he violently convulses as he cries, his heart longing for his family again, feeling so empty and incomplete.

Lance craves stability again. He craves familiarity because each day that goes on, something changes. He doesn’t deal too well with change, he loves family, the idea of a home he knows he will return to at the end of the day. He likes knowing he belongs.

He coughs harshly, rattling at his chest and he knows his fever is high but he doesn’t have enough energy to ask for help. He wishes someone would just save him, but he knows it doesn’t work like that.

Lance cannot return to his family, but he escapes to a place where he can, in his dreams. As he closes his eyes, still sobbing, he begs whatever higher power out there to take his mind and send him to them, even just for a little while, just to see them again. And when it comes he lets it cover him like a blanket.

“Lance, sweetheart?” His mother calls softly, “Can you wake up, now, please?”

Lance groans, the light hitting his face and causing him to scrunch up his nose, nodding. Eyes still closed, he rubs at his face as he forces himself upright onto his bed. The moment he opens his eyes he jumps in alarm.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY LANCE!” His entire family yells, bright, warm grins on their faces.

He has no clue how they all managed to fit in to his adequately sized room, but they have. Everyone is here. All his cousins and nieces and siblings and grandparents. All here, and he can feel their love radiating off of them and it warms him to his very core. Initially he feels shock, surprise and his heart races for a few moments but immediately it is replaced by pure joy, his heart touched by the gesture. Tears prick at his eyes and his smile is shaky.

“God, you guys..you didn’t..have to–” Lance manages to say, but it’s hard for him to find words because it’s like he’s on cloud nine. His heart is glowing and he can’t help but hold it, as if trying to contain the magic brewing within him, like he could explode with the euphoria he feels right now.

“Open your presents tío!” His niece shrieks excitedly, grabbing at a sack and emptying its contents onto Lance’s bed.

“Oh god! There are so many!” Lance gasps. His family isn’t wealthy; and the presents he has before him is sparse as compared to a regular person’s amount, but to Lance, it’s a plethora. The fact his family had so little, and were willing to give him so much, forces the brewing tears to spill onto his cheeks.

Veronica laughs and leans in to kiss his cheek affectionately, “Of course, we love you.”

She wipes away his tears, her voice fond, “Now stop crying, you baby.”

Lance chuckles shakily at that. And the next while consists of him opening presents, discovering a new jacket, a sweater his abuela handmade for him, some arts and crafts projects his nieces and nephews made him, a new Star Wars video game, new swimming togs, face creams courtesy of Veronica..and so forth. Until there is one present left; shiny and sparkling, wrapped with so much love and care Lance is instantly drawn to it, like there is some sort of magnetic force drawing them to each other.

Lance senses some tension in the room, and his fingers clumsily untangle the bow that holds the packaging together. He feels their gazes burning holes into him, and he’s nervous.

He slowly, and cautiously unfolds the paper and when his eyes lock upon the sight before him his blood runs cold and his heart freezes.

He can feel his breathing pick up and his hands are shaking violently, he cannot believe his eyes. And he tears come back again, harder this time.

Before him is a Garrison Uniform, neatly folded and squeaky clean, ready to be worn.

“Díos mio..” Lance breathes.

“I..I..I got in?” He chokes.

His mother’s face is completely engulfed by a sunny smile, and she’s began to cry too.

“Sí, hijo, you got in! You did it!” She exclaims joyfully.

“Oh my god, I..I did it!” Lance cries out happily, and immediately his entire family jumps up screaming in joy, charging in for a huge family hug. Lance feels like his suffocating, but he’s never felt so happy in his life.

“You’re going to be among the stars, one day, my boy. Make us proud..”

A gentle shake on the shoulder returns Lance to his harsh reality, and his miserable symptoms kick in almost instantaneously. He becomes aware of his painful, dreadful headache and his feverish body, and he can’t help his violent shivers.

“Lance, buddy, wake up,” Keith says softly.

Lance gets up slowly, his world spinning violently that it makes him feel a little nauseous. He needs to hold on to the frame of his bed to steady his vision, and he looks over to his alarm clock and gasps. He was meant to be awake almost two hours ago!

Keith glances at Lance’s pale face, with dark undereyes and a saturated flushing on his cheeks and nose, “Oh, Lance..”

“Quiznack, I overslept! I’m so sorry–the mission–” Lance kicks the covers off, trying to scramble away but his face scrunches up and he erupts into a ticklish fit of sneezes, each sneeze desperate and sickly sounding. He isn’t able to cover the first few, but manages to cover the incoming ones with the crook of his arm.

“Bless you,” Keith offers but Lance doesn’t stop, he’s still going–until one particularly loud sneeze causes him to bang his face against his elbow. Keith grimaces in sympathy, passing him a tissue for him to continue his fit in, until it eventually subsides.

Once Lance finishes, his eyes are watery and he can’t breathe through his nose, but he still forces himself off the bed and the world tilts and his knees buckle and he’s freefalling, but Keith’s strong arm catches him and hurls him back towards his bed.

Keith’s eyes look sad, “Hey, buddy, maybe it’s better if you stay in bed today..”

“No! I need to go on the–” He coughs, “the mission! We can’t..form voltron otherwise! I can’t..be a burden on this team..”

Lance begins to haul himself out of his bedroom and towards the bridge, much to Keith’s protests. His head pounds and his body feels like it weighs tonnes but he forces himself towards the bridge.

When he makes it he feels like he’s spent years trudging through the desert suffocating beneath the hot Saharan sun.

“I’m sorry I’m late, I didn’t mean to, let’s start the missi–” Lance starts to hack, coughing his lungs out, bent double with the sheer force. He feels horribly light and faint.

“Oh, Lance, buddy..” Hunk whispers softly, his voice dripping with sympathy.

“I can do it, I swear, please let me do it, we gotta..” Lance trails off, looking up to see their concerned faces, worry etched onto each of their features. But once his teary eyes focus he’s able to see beyond them; the bridge beautifully decorated with a “Happy Birthday, Lance!” banner, there’s some smudged black paint in the corner, and there’s some alien craft that is meant to resemble balloons, and a cake.

Lance feels so warm.

And it’s not just because of his fever.

“Happy birthday, pal,” Hunk smiles sweetly.

His eyes water, “Y..you guys..”

“Happy birthday, Lance..uh..and I’m sorry about the smudge, that was..kind of my fault,” Shiro admits bashfully.

“No..i..it’s perfect,” He whispers.

“..And we didn’t have time to get you a proper present, but we found these little gems and we hope this is a little something until we get something better,” Pidge explains as she places a bracelet into his hands; the brace is silver and there are seven little gems, five gems with the same colour of their lions, and one pink one for Allura, and an orange one for Coran.

Lance’s lip begins to wobble, joy warming his heart and he feels like he’s glowing, twinkling and sparkling.

“And I made you some garlic knots..I tried my hardest to replicate some Cuban spices but you can only get so close with alien ingredients,” Hunk offers, gesturing towards a large plate.

Lance’s face crumples and he begins to sob, incredibly moved, his heavy soul feeling much lighter, a new light igniting within him bringing warmth to the coldness that had started to spread throughout him.

Keith puts an arm around him and lets him cry into his shoulder, “Shh..hey, pal, why are you crying?”

“I’m just..so happy. I don’t deserve you guys..I..made a promise to my mother that I’d make her proud, and I feel so dumb for being tired when there are important missions to do..and yet you guys are still..so nice to me,” He sobs.

“Lance, you’re sick. That’s okay. You can take a rest. And look, I don’t know your mother–but we’re all very proud of you. I’m very proud of you. So I’m so sure she would feel the same,” Keith reassures, a little bit awkward, but just as caring as he brushes his hand through Lance’s hair.

One by one everyone on the team joins in the hug, and each time Lance feels a little bit more while. A little less alone. He can finally feel at home; it’s not quite what he’s grown to know, but maybe it’s just as good. It will do.

“We love you, Lance, all of us,” Hunk whispers lovingly.

And Lance feels it.

He’ll uphold his promise to his mother. He does lives with the stars, these friends who shine just as bright as the stars, and somehow, he’s one of them. Shining just as bright, with their love.

He belongs right here.

#lance mcclain #langst #julance #lance's birthday #voltron #keith kogane #hunk garrett #pidge gunderson #takashi shirogane #allura #coran #vld #sickfic #whump #klance kinda #hance kinda #prompts #sorry this is a lil rushed I'm on holiday!!

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sicklylittlesnowflake · 6 years

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I’m still floored that Shiro’s gay like they didn’t choose some background character for rep, they didn’t choose a one-off character for rep, they chose the fucking leader of Voltron that everybody looks up to. how amazing. how wonderful. I’m so happy

#voltron spoilers #voltron s7 spoilers #im on holiday and im super jetlagged #its 5 am rn #and i cant stop cryinh im so happy #a queer asian character!!!#this means so much to me #voltron #not snz #im so happy

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sicklylittlesnowflake · 6 years

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Idk if you're taking requests (do you post at all when you do? Sorry I'm a new follower so if you can't do this I completely understand!) however if not, can I request sick Tony Stark and worried Peter Parker???

Here you go! :)

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sicklylittlesnowflake · 6 years

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you don't have to write it if it doesn't speak to you, but i just read and loved your fic where peter calms tony down from a panic attack, and now i offer a Good Concept: Peter trying to help Tony get through a meeting at SHIELD when Tony's spacey and in pain from a headache/fever?

@taylortut !!!! I really like this prompt girl!!

In the course of his lifetime Tony has witnessed the discovery of alien life, multiple alien invasions, discovering that the very threads of his reality all coincided within 6 stones, and yet he had never been more confused in his life up until this moment.

Everything Nick Fury says seems to be a jumble of words that don’t seem to be any language, perhaps some alien language but even then they’re barely even audible. They’re all slurred together and seemingly slowed down like his VCR tape had just malfunctioned.

He feels warm and hot all over and he felt like his face was on fire but his lower half was stuck in the middle of the arctic, and he wanted to scream. There was part of him that wanted to throw a tantrum and crawl up on the floor wailing in agony, but he was a grown man who was much respected with a very strong image to pursue and doing such a thing was..out of character, to the say the least.

Tony doesn’t remember the last time he felt this sick, hell, he doesn’t even think he’s ever felt this sick in his entire life. He grits his teeth together as he braces this headache that comes in ravaging like a hurricane in his head, destroying every cell in his brain. His fists are balled intensely in an attempt to anchor himself through this whirlwind of pain, and he doesn’t know if he’s really not concealing his discomfort well at all or Peter is just this observant but either way he can sense that the kid is staring holes into him.

Peter, as always, is kind and loving, with a soul softer than his damn hair, which is pretty damn soft. He doesn’t stare at Tony with malicious or judging intent, he stares at him with genuine concern and worry, and this sort of nervous energy he sort of sees in himself. He knows this kid isn’t his, but it sure feels like it.

Peter doesn’t quite know sign language all too well, he’s only just started after all (because he was an avenger now, all the avengers know sign language for Clint, why was he any different? and yes, Mr Stark, he was an avenger now) and he seems to be making up his own bizzaro form of sign language, which mostly consisted of an equally outlandish series of facial expressions. Tony has absolutely no clue what this kid is trying to communicate, but he can only assume is a, ‘you okay?’

As dumb and ridiculous as this exchange is, at least its amusing and it’s giving him a break from everything else that’s going on. Peter’s great at that. He gives him a little break from everything in the world that’s shitty and bleak and shows him what’s right with the world. His headache hurt a little bit less.

Tony raises an eyebrow in amusement.

Peter shows a bit agitation, frustrated he can’t quite get his point across, not wanting to interrupt Fury who seems to still be going on about these Ravagers he doesn’t really understand, and tries mouthing his message, but Tony pretends like he doesn’t understand, because yes he’s sick but he’s a little shit and being sick doesn’t stop that.

Peter, who’s directly in front of him, gives him a look that just tells him he knows what he’s up to. He looks absolutely done with him. He sighs dramatically, and goes on listening to some guy who’s started drone on and on about budget control. Tony knows he’s not really listening though and trying to discreetly check in on him, and he makes a mental note to see about teaching Peter a thing or two about stealth.

But all the joking and lighthearted tomfoolery doesn’t last long and it fades quickly and the storm starts up again. He feels awfully lightheaded and his head hurts so much, his whole body is heavy and he feels lost. It’s like he’s disconnected and disassociated and he’s simply hovering around, him and his body seeming to not connect. He feels a little delirious like his entire body is slowly dying off in a desert and his face is burning.

He feels like his body is begging for rest, gripping at his chair to anchor himself as he’s hit with yet another tidal wave of pain, nausea, and hot and cold waves and Peter seems to sense this. He eyes him worriedly, trying to keep up his discreet charade but he gives it up.

“Do you guys want some water?” Peter chirps up suddenly, interrupting the guy who’s still on about budget control, earning himself an annoyed look. He blushes a little as he realises what he’s done is a little rude, but to him Tony’s welfare is more dire right now than how much money is being allocated towards a new doorway.

“You can get some if you want, Mr Parker,” He sighs, teeth gritted and quickly resuming his bit.

Tony shoots Peter a tired look but the kid is gone in a flash, and when he’s gone it’s like everything is much worse because there’s no one to sulk at. He stifles a cough into the tailored fabric of his suit jacket, going relatively unnoticed which he’s glad for. He lets himself slump just a little, not too much, he still has an image, but he lets that image go just the tiniest bit.

Every second Peter is gone seems to last an eternity and a half. The world does by in this agonisingly slow pace, it seems to blur out of focus so his headache is heightened and he can practically hear his head throbbing. He feels so incredibly faint and so horrible he doesn’t know if he’s even here, it’s a nightmarish version of his life that is so surreal and trippy without the promise of a high.

Eventually Peter returns with a cart full of glasses, and passes some to random people in the conference room. Tony thinks about how out of place he looks, but he understands it for him and it makes him love the kid a lot more now. He wheels the cart towards the him, and passes him a glass of cold water that his brain is crying tears of joy for, as well as a oddly folded napkin.

Tony eyes it suspiciously and lifts the fold to reveal two aspirins and all he can do is give Peter the look of pure gratitude and euphoria.

Peter deliberately drops a napkin to crouch down and whisper, “I got them off this really nice lady called Daisy–you owe me one.”

He discreetly pops the pills into his mouth and gives Peter a nod, taking a good sip of his water. He doesn’t normally accept good actions like this so casually, but he lets his pride go because the sense of gratitude and appreciation he feels outweighs any sense of gargantuan ego he has.

And then everything felt like it was going to be fine. ‘Hell yeah I’m gonna make it through this’, Tony thinks proudly, his headache hurts and the cold and hot waves are rushing up and down him in the most uncomfortable way but he can handle this. He can hold on. Things are actually going in his favour for once. Everything is okay in the world.

But then hell breaks loose and Tony’s world is entirely shaken and flipped and nothing is okay.

He doesn’t exactly know what’s happened because his mind is focused solely on not passing out and keeping up a healthy facade, but he thinks Thunderbolt Ross said something that pissed off Fury and they’re yelling and they’re so loud and there’s more voices yelling and it’s all meddling and it’s just too much.

There’s a ringing in his ears and the room is closing in and Tony can hear his heart thumping and he can feel it and the dull roar of the ringing is now a shrill shriek. The lights seem to be fading in and out and the sounds only seem to get louder and everything seems to be heavier and weighing down on him

and Tony is drowning.

Tony swallows hard as his heart races and his breathing shallows and his hands are sweating. He grips the chair hard and tightly and the pressure he’s applying is so much he can feel the skin of his palms straining and his skin burns. He looks around wildly, his lip trembling and he’s shaking and he feels so lost. He feels so sick and his body cannot handle any more and he’s losing control fast and Tony more than anything hates losing control because he feels like he’s floating away and he feels so hauntingly light.

He desperately wants to ground himself and come back because he’s so terrified he’ll float away so far he can never come back. But then his gaze locks upon Peter’s and it’s like he’s grabbed his hand just before he’s fallen off the cliff into nothingness.

And he still feels like he’s teetering off the edge but he’s still here, and as Peter gives him the kindest look he’s ever seen he feels himself being brought back up to the surface slowly but surely. Everything else seems to fade into a dull roar and he focuses his entire entity on to him.

‘Breathe’, Peter mouths, and he begins to breathe in and out slowly and steadily, gesturing for him to follow suit.

Tony nods shakily, and slowly tries to match him. He’s off tempo and he’s rushing, coming in a bit too early but he gets a sense of the rhythm and follows him, never once tearing his gaze, completely locked on him. And he feels safe. He’s still here.

Peter gives him a smile, a proud smile, and Tony’s left wondering what he ever did to deserve such a sweet person in his life.

Peter’s face shifts and he pulls out his phone, pretending to read a text, and it’s really obvious, and the mental note Tony made to teach Peter about stealth seems to climb up quite a bit.

“Uh, guys?” Peter interrupts the chaos that is Shield’s conference room, earning a particularly venomous look from that budget control guy from earlier.

“Yes, Mr.Parker?” Ross sighs.

“Uh, I just got a text from Mr Rhodes and he says he needs myself and Mr Stark like..uh..urgently?” Peter lies.

“Just go,” He brushes off quickly, seemingly uninterested and diving right into his angry tangent.

Peter gestures towards Tony, raising his eyebrows and heading towards the door. Tony follows, the journey a horrendous trek that seemed to leach every single joule of energy remaining in his body. He keeps himself straight and professional, but the moment the doors closed he feels his knees buckling and his body becoming light and his world begin to tilt.

Peter was quicker, his instincts alert and responsive and in a swoop his arm was catching him and pulling him upright, supporting and caring.

“We gotta get you home, Mr.Stark, I’ll call Happy,” Peter suggests, his grip strong but not hurtful in any sense.

“You shouldn’t see me like this,” Tony laments, remorse and shame lacing his words.

“Why not?”

“Your role models shouldn’t be weak.”

Peter is silent for a moment, but he softens, “All my heroes aren’t perfect.”

“Captain America was the scrawny little guy from New York,” Peter explains softly, and chuckles, “Just like me.”

“Dr Banner has some mental health problems. Hawkeye is hard of hearing. Black Widow used to be an assassin. Winter Soldier’s going through some pretty serious trauma, and so is Falcon. The Scarlet Witch worked with Ultron. And Thor..uh, he seems pretty perfect but uh, I’m sure there’s something–oh yeah, he’s got pretty strong emotions he can’t resist sometimes.”

“But my point is.. All my heroes aren’t perfect . And neither are you and that’s okay. It helps me know that I can be somebody too, you know?” Peter says, and looks over at him to give him a reassuring smile that tells him everything will be okay.

“I..didn’t have a lot growing up and seeing that my favourite heroes don’t have everything makes me feel like I can really do something with my life, you know? All I need..is that drive to make the world better, right? So yeah, no, I gotta disagree with you Mr Stark, my role models don’t have to be always strong. They just gotta keep trying.”

Tony can’t help his smile, “The whole world should be like you, kid. Kids like you remind me about why we do this.”

Tony puts a hand on his shoulder and brings him a bit closer, “Now, enough sap talk and let’s get me the hell home.”

#tony stark #peter parker #iron dad #spiderman #iron man #spiderman homecoming #marvel #mcu #sickfic #tw panic attacks #whump #sick tony #fever #hurt/comfort #prompts #marvel cinematic universe

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sicklylittlesnowflake · 6 years

Text

Announcement!

I'm currently not taking riverdale prompts. That's not to say I'm no longer writing it, though. I have a lot of riverdale prompts (possibly like, 60% of my prompts is Riverdale) and I would like to fill those first before reopening. I don't know when I'll reopen for riverdale, bc I'm currently hitting a slump with writing it, as I'm not really in the fandom and think the show isn't..fantastic lmao. but I possibly will open them in the future. Maybe I'll have an awakening for it when s3 comes out, but right now I feel a little burnt out of it and there is only so many ways I can write the same story in a slightly different way, haha! But there will be more riverdale fics, definitely, I just have more than I can handle atm!

#i just want to write different things #theres so many other fandoms to write!!#while the majority of my prompts are riverdale #theyre my least popular posts #and ofc while notes shouldnt matter #it goes to show that ppl are more interested in my other writing!#and truthfully i am kinda too #announcements

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sicklylittlesnowflake · 6 years

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Back to the Future

#im rarely into things other than emotional or sickness whump #but i lofe bttf so much iii love this

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sicklylittlesnowflake · 6 years

Note

•You never really go to parties and are always really uptight and we made fun of you for it/expressed frustration at this so you forced yourself to go to this party and shit you’re so sick and you won’t go home because we made you feel bad I’m so sorry how can I make it up to you?? (Keith is not a fan of parties but his friends eventually pester him into going to one despite being sick as a dog.)

(I started this fic with the intention of having it for whumpmas, so if that is not a testament to how slow I am as a writer, idk what is! Also, btw this is weird but I love when sicknarios I write get back to me, lol! And I did write this scenario with Keith and E from les mis in mind, so this is a great prompt! This is college au, btw, I find it kinda difficult to write alien parties lmao!)

Parties are the perfect culmination of everything Keith hates in life.

Bright, strobe, head ache inducing lights with a wide variety of flashing, psychedelic colours, ear piercingly loud music with a tremendous beat that makes his heart thump and thump and feel way too overwhelmed, warm, sticky bodies way too close too each other and making him feel suffocated, too much people, having fun and feeling free when Keith can only feel more trapped.

Too much people.

Too much.

Keith has spent so much time in solitude, in simplicity. And being thrust into a situation where there is too much all at once is alien to him, and he can’t help the rapid beating and thumping of his wild heart when he looks around for some sort of serenity.

Keith feels trapped in this room, the overwhelming humidity and heaviness of this air weighing down on him and compressing his lungs so he can’t breathe. He hates watching all these people exhilarated, vibrant, alive. When he can only feel more lifeless by the second.

He feels like an alien like this. Like he isn’t part of this world. Keith doesn’t even feel like here’s here. He can’t even feel his body, he doesn’t feel like he’s connected to it, and he’s floating away. Looking down. And he hates what he sees.

All Keith can feel is the pounding and raging headache that seems to pierce into his skull and the pain is only worsened by the tremors of the pulsating waves of sound from the obnoxiously large speakers that litter the place.

He didn’t even want to be here; Shiro had told him this would be good, that college was great, and he needed to start living that college life. Shiro said he needed to be more sociable, because he would make the best friends of his life here. Pidge would tease him , and so would Lance. And Hunk encouraged him kindly, and Keith did not have any energy to fight them. So he went. And he could not have regretted a decision more than this very moment.

Keith stumbles around the night club like he’s drunk, and he doesn’t have one single drop of alcohol in his body. If he can be drunk on a fever, he definitely is. Due to his feverish haze he’s lost Shiro and Pidge, and his only hope is finding Lance and Hunk who are probably the life and soul of the party.

In this haze he hasn’t even realised the tickle blossoming within his sinuses and before he knows it he’s doubling over with one loud, powerful sneeze that grates against his throat with no time to cover, and just aim towards the floor. He gets a slightly irritated look from some person, and honestly, he doesn’t even mind. Keith feels awful being this germ incubator in this tightly knit space. This cold is horrendous, and he’s probably just passed it on to a good three people and he feels terrible.

Keith stumbles and wobbles around the night club dizzily, the technicolor lights seeming like an acid trip he did not consent to, and it seems to be sending waves of messages to his brain to hurt and throb. He feels a tad bit of anger and bitterness towards Shiro, Allura and Pidge, and maybe a little bit towards Lance and Hunk, but in fairness to them, they hadn’t pushed him to go this particular evening, but they had in the past.

“You need to enjoy your college experience, Keith! Get out of your room for once, embrace your youth!” Shiro had told him, in a way that was so middle aged dad he wanted to tear his hair out but so perfectly Shiro he couldn’t help but be persuaded into it.

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Keith,” Pidge had whined.

“It’ll be so much fun, Keith! Plus, I heard that Lance is wearing a pretty cute outfit tonight,” Allura had teased, causing him to scowl knowing she had played with his heart and manipulated him with the promise of his crush looking cute.

Keep reading

#reblogging bc i thought id ahve a prompt tonight #but i dont sorry #so for those who didnt see this hopefully this is a mediocre subsitute lol #drinking tw #voltron #self reblog

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