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la-fille-en-aiguilles · 5 years ago

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Blackout | Random One-Shot Series, #1

Billy Russo x Female Reader

I’ve been through a major blackout this week, it got me thinking and this just happened. There’s another Blackout scenario I’m finishing, I’ll try to post it next week. For those lovely people who requested Matt Murdock stories, I’m still on them. Sorry for this delay in delivery, I blame Billy Russo.

Warnings: S.M.U.T.

Synopsis: you and Billy are best buddies, always have been. And it seems like nothing could change that. Well, except for a blackout, maybe.

“…you know, maybe I should just give up on men already. Start playing for the other team.”

Billy chuckles and shakes his head, his eyes skimming over the photos that you and him took earlier today at this gallery you somehow managed to drag him to. When his thumb swipes right to see yet another photo, your face suddenly takes up the entire screen, your full red lips forming a heart, a fucking sinful pout, your shimmering eyes watching him with such playfulness and boldness, he is instantly drawn to them and stunned speechless.

When did you manage to take this photo anyway?...

“What can I say, it’ll be our loss,” Billy answers hurriedly before you come back to his room from the bathroom wondering what the hell has got his tongue.

He can actually think of a few things, his hooded eyes still glued to the screen. His tongue sure would feel like home on those plump lips, among other places…

“He suggested that we hang out. When did hanging out even become a thing?! What does that even supposed to mean? ” you muse as the shower stops running, and Billy curses himself mentally, trying to ignore the tense feeling in his groin.

Dimming the screen of his phone, he throws it on the bed by his side. With his eyes fixed on the empty doorway leading to the bathroom, he tries to do his best to relax, allowing his back to hit the pillows.

“I don’t know,” he considers it out loud, biting the inside of his cheek. “Maybe it means, like, let’s spend some quality time together, you know?”

Get naked, have lots of sex and maybe even dinner?, his mind spirals back to your lips.

What the fuck is wrong with him.

Your laugh is the prettiest thing he has ever heard – and felt. As he takes in the smooth melody, goosebumps immediately spread all over his body, awakening his senses. Like some sort of a top-quality drug, spreading in his veins, getting his entire body tingle with excitement.

God damn, he has it bad.

“Is that what you mean when you ask me to hang out?” before he can even realize he said what he thinks he thought out loud, you step into his bedroom, and he nearly groans, and chokes on his own saliva.

With your hair curled at the ends, the front strands rolled back in some kind of a retro style, your lips still sinner red, you stand in front of him wearing black stockings that hit you just a couple of inches above your knees and one of his dress shirts, because you probably couldn’t find a bathrobe.

He considers thinking about dead puppies, but his mind already pictures his hands sliding up your thighs as he fucks you into the wall…

“No,” he lets out in a husky voice, flicking his eyes to your face, illuminated with a completely oblivious smile. “I could never-” he stutters, “I’d never want to do that to you… I mean, with you…”, watching your expression darken up some, he suddenly realizes it all comes out wrong.

Bloody hell, just shut your trap up!

“I mean, we’re buddies, right?” Billy finally manages weakly, hating himself for every word that leaves his mouth. “We can never be…”, he even considers just stopping talking all together, your smile having disappeared entirely, and having been replaced by a small frown and a pout.

That fucking pout.

“All I’m saying, is…” Billy rakes his fingers through his thick mane of hair, exasperated and fed up with himself. “…I don’t think this kind of hanging out can ever be our thing”.

Just when he breathes out, thinking it could have gone so much worse, his eyes shift back to your face. The next thing he knows you snap at him, your hands on your hips.

“Of course not,” Billy can sense metal ringing in every word. “Besides, hanging out would never cut it for me.”

With these words, you’re a whirlwind of cotton, hair and lipstick, as you turn on your heels and power walk back to the bathroom, tense and frustrated.

Billy feels like a blithering idiot, staring at the spot where you’ve been standing seconds ago. Moaning softly and biting his bottom lip, he buries his face in his hands.

He’d really better get his libido in line, before he drives you away with his horrendous stupidity and infinite babbling that doesn’t even make sense.

Your ringtone goes off in the bathroom all of the sudden, somewhat shaking Billy out of his stupor. You take a moment to answer, swearing under your breath as Billy hears something clutter against the tile floors, probably your perfume.

“Hey, Karen. What’s up?” It seems to him that you sound completely off, some kind of emotion that you’re trying to desperately fight raw in your voice. You clear your throat, and the sound makes Billy’s entire body go cold.

You are not angry. You’re disappointed, and you’re doing a pretty shitty job trying to mask it.

“Okay, okay, don’t freak out, Bill and I will think of something,” you dash out of the bathroom and back into where Billy sits. You widen your eyes at him, as if sending him silent signals. “He’s going to call Frank right now, and tell him he needs him to pass by his place. We’ll think of some excuse,” worry laces your every word, and Billy is up on his feet, alert as his Marine senses kick in. Even though he knows it’s just a goddamn surprise birthday party, and nobody’s in danger. For now. “Worst case scenario, he gets to your place before the guests do. It’s still going to be a hell of a surprise!”

You close your mouth abruptly. Billy watches you with concern in his dark eyes, and just as he reaches out and wraps his fingers around your wrist, the lights in his apartment go off, and the entire room is drowned in pitch-black darkness.

Something’s happening on the other end of the line, Billy can tell, as you call Karen’s name a couple of times. He lights up the flash on his phone with his free hand, blinking a couple of times.

“Hell’s Kitchen has shitty cellphone service as it is,” Billy tries to reassure in a hushed voice even though he knows better than to speak. “The citywide blackout sure ain’t helping”.

He instantly regrets having opened his mouth as your eyes shoot daggers at him in the light that his iPhone’s emanating.

“Yeah, no shit, Russo,” you scoff at him.

Before Billy can even open his mouth and retort, he finally hears Karen’s voice, and you shake Billy’s grip off your hand, without even looking at him. Your voice is a tad strangled but still firm as you tell Karen that the blackout might slow Frank down. You also tell her to stay put while Billy calls him to see where he’s at.

As you drop the call, you put the flash on your iPhone on and return back to the bathroom, not saying a word.

Having watched you disappear, Billy drops back on the couch, sighing, still trying to wrap his head around how much of a fucking retard he is. He lights his phone up, only to see the No Service message in bold white letters. Muttering a curse under his breath, he flicks the flash mode off, so he’s left sitting in the darkness, his eyes fixed on the light coming from the bathroom.

“I’ve got zero service, but I still can get hold of my guys so they can track ‘im ,” Billy suggests, his thumb rubbing against his phone’s screen in a nervous gesture.

“Do that then,” his heart breaks a little as he hears you answer cooly, like you couldn’t give less crap about what he does. “We’ll be going in five, just let me get dressed”.

Silence settles in the room until you curse under your breath, the light in the bathroom going off. Your phone must have died.

“So the hanging out guy”, he hates the begging tones in his voice, but Billy speaks up anyway, clearing his throat. He knows that probably makes him a coward, but he finds it easier to voice his thoughts while being immersed in darkness. “Did you tell ‘im that? That hanging out doesn’t cut it for you?” he asks, not even sure he wants to know the answer. Because what if she didn’t?

What if she took him up on his offer?

Billy doesn’t know how he’ll be able to handle that.

He hears you scoff almost immediately at his lame questions while you’re in the middle of the fucking blackout, but he still prepares himself for the answer, whatever it might be.

“Oh yeah,” you reappear back in his room, carrying your little burgundy dress on a hanger in one hand, and a pair of killer Loubotin shoes in the other. Knowing you’ll probably need light, Billy lights up his phone again. “I told him to fuck off and call me when he grows a pair… which is never going to happen, so I’m sure as hell safe”.

Billy can feel the colour drain from his cheeks as he suddenly realizes you may not be talking about that pathetic loser who suggested that you and him hang out, because he is a fucking coward and couldn’t ask you out on a proper date.

As you make a point out of ignoring him, Billy wants to smash his head against the wall.

And then it finally hits him.

Yeah, actually, you are still talking about that loser.

That loser being him.

He squeezes his eyes shut at first, as he hears you hassle behind his back, not saying a word; when suddenly something pushes him up onto his feet, a surge of adrenaline, the sentiment of now-or-never beating his common sense into submission, relative darkness encouraging him to do something he knows he might regret.

Billy turns around to face you, and from the moment he’s struck dumb by the sight before his eyes, he knows this entire situation is going haywire.

His eyes hit your bare shoulders and exposed back. His stare slides down with the shirt that you are taking off, standing with his back to him. His eyes go wide and his pupils are blown out with lust as he catches a glimpse of the black lace underwear. As if sensing his burning stare, you half turn your head… Your eyes lock.

His breathing has yet to return to normal, but the next thing he knows, Billy is crushing your soft body into the cool wall, his fingers digging into your hips, his mouth ruining that vampire pout of yours. Biting and gnawing on your lips, he is surprised when you push your tongue into his mouth, your fingers snaking into his hair, pulling at it harshly.

With some kind of wild energy pumping through his veins, fire of lust licking at the corners of his mind, Billy drags his lips along your neck and collarbone, running his fingertips along the lace-covered underside of your breasts.

“Fuck, Billy,” you moan, your voice barely audible, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t tease”.

The way you say his name strikes deep within him, his erection rock hard and pressed against where you need him most, he likes to think.

He has to remind himself that you have no idea how many times he has fucked his own hand pretending it was your lips wrapped around his cock.

“I’m going to make you come into my mouth and then I’m taking you to bed”, Billy can feel a thorough shiver raking through you as he whispers the words against your swollen lips. A moan that escapes them is downright scandalous and Billy would chuckle if you didn’t unclasp your bra, silently surrendering yourself to him.

As Billy takes one of your breasts into his mouth, puckering his lips against your skin, you gasp, your hips moving forward. It’s only moments before Billy drops to his knees, his fingers rolling black lace down your legs. Billy’s tongue laps against the swollen bud of nerve endings between your thighs. His lips wrap around you, as he slides a finger up your wet, shuddering core.

With his dick pressing painfully against the fly of his trousers, Billy hears you moan his name again. When he looks up, he sees you open your eyes, watching him fuck you with his fingers. He feels you tighten around him, your eyes rolling back as you come, screaming his name and squeezing his hand in between your soft thighs, riding out your high…

—

“Stop staring at me,” you whisper with your eyes closed, feeling Billy’s dark eyes on you. He doesn’t say anything, just chuckles hoarsely and dives down, hovering over your body. His lips burn your bare hipbones as his hands squeeze as much of your ass as he can reach, your skin orange in the rays of the morning sun.

“God, Russo, you’re insatiable,” you growl, but Billy knows you’re hiding a smile as you bury your face in a pillow.

“You have no idea,” Billy smirks, kissing the spot just above your belly button this time. His lips don’t waver as he takes this party lower.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and Billy lifts himself up in response, his hungry lips crashing down on yours.

Leaving you breathless, Billy hovers over you, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Do you think we fucked up Frank’s surprise birthday party?” you ask him, cupping his cheek with one of your hands. “I can’t believe we missed the entire happening. Karen is going to kill us both.”

Billy brushes his lips against yours one more time and from the soft yet mischievous look in his eyes you can tell he has absolutely zero regrets.

“She hasn’t called, so I think they didn’t miss us much”, he wets his bottom lip. “Fifty bucks says they know what we were up to, and probably drank a round of shots to celebrate”.

You roll yours eyes at him, but you know what he says makes sense. This dancing around each other and ‘we’re just friends’ crap was getting old, especially for Karen and Frank.

“So what now?” you ask him.

The stare of those bottomless eyes burns again, possibly more that his touch as his hand slides up and down your ribs under the blanket. You bite on your bottom lip, hard, trying to keep a loud moan in.

“I don’t know,” Billy looks like he weighs his options. “You want to maybe hang out?’

This wasn’t what you expected, not by a very long shot. It’s out of your control as you gasp at the nerve of him, gripping his roaming hand so hard he actually winces, the Marine that he is.

“Hey, easy there, m’love,” you freeze as the nickname reaches your ears. Billy uses your reaction to free his hand, bringing it to your face. His mouth is mere inches away from yours, and you feel your stomach erupt with what feels like hippopotamuses doing an Irish dance. “What I meant is have lots of sex, and maybe even a breakfast date?...”

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #the punisher imagine #the punisher #billy russo imagine #ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #billy russo x you #billy russo smut #ben barnes smut

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fic-for-fic-sake · 5 years ago

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The Journalist and the Winter Soldier

Description: You’re a journalist in New York City who is preparing to interview the infamous Winter Soldier, James Barnes. During your interview sessions you find that your relationship with him may go beyond that of journalist and interview subject. Can the two of you keep things platonic or will the lines become blurred along the way? Previous chapters can be found here

Chapter 3:

That night you sat down with your editor, Chase, and began to go through the footage.

“I still can’t believe you got to interview The Winter Soldier.” Chase commented, digging through his half eaten Chinese food container, chopsticks working overtime.

“Right, they were very clear that we don’t call him that. How about for the lower third we just stick to James Buchanan Barnes or Sergeant Barnes.” You replied, shoving a dumpling into your mouth. The warm dough and vegetable fillings had you trying to stifle your satisfaction filled moan. “I swear, Dragon’s Palace makes the best dumplings in New York.”

“No, that title definitely goes to Ma’s Garden.” Chase rebutted, scrolling through your footage for soundbites.

You rolled your eyes in mock-annoyance as you typed your script on your laptop.

James Buchanan Barnes, better known to his friends and fellow Avengers as ‘Bucky’ has had a decorated past as a WW2 veteran and Howling Comando. But that doesn’t mean that his journey to stardom was always easy.

‘At Camp McCoy, they trained our minds but not our bodies.’ Barnes remembers. He says that PTSD wasn’t something that the Army talked about during his training. 75 years later, Barnes is trying to re-acclimate to his life and seeing what the 21st century has to offer...

“Hey Chase,” you called, looking up from your laptop, “Do we have a soundbite where he explains the major differences between 1940′s life and life in 2020?”

“Uh, let me check real quick.” Chase offered, quickly checking his notes. “No, we don’t.”

“Damnit.” You cursed, moving your laptop off your lap and to the desk. “I thought I asked about that.”

“You know what that means.” Chase replied, taking your iPhone off the table and wiggling it in front of your face. “Phone interview.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “I hate phone interviews. The sound quality is shitty, not to mention that dumb graphic we have to use and you know how those guys in graphics can get.”

“Do you have an alternative?” Chase questioned, following your line of thinking. “He doesn’t exactly strike me as the type of guy to do another interview.”

“You didn’t see him at the end, I think I could get him to meet with me.” You responded, taking the phone from Chase and making your way to the soundproof voice over rooms. You dialed the number Tony Stark had given you should you need any follow up questions, and placed the phone to your ear.

It rang three times before it was answered.

“Hello?” A voice rang out from the other end.

“Hi, this is Y/N Y/L/N, I’m looking for Sergeant Banres.”

“Darlin’ didn’t I tell you to call me Bucky?” The voice questioned from the other end of the line, dripping with charm.

“Sorry, Bucky, um I was wondering if I could do a short follow up interview with you?” You proposed, picking an imaginary piece of lint off of your pants.

“Depends on who’s doin’ the interview.” He replied, with a hint of frost in his voice. But there was another part there, was he, was he teasing you? You quickly shook the wandering thought from your mind, whatever you thought you heard probably wasn’t there.

“I would, same as last time.” You responded, trying to quell your nervous breathing and quickening heartbeat. It was so loud you could practically hear it in your ears, could Bucky hear it too?

“Sure doll, when did you have in mind?” He questioned, voice smooth as butter.

Fuck. Doll. The pet name sent a heat rush to your cheeks and you squeezed your eyes shut to try and gain back any semblance of self control you could find.

“I was thinking, tomorrow?” You questioned, “The story needs to be turned in, in three days time, so time is of the essence.”

“Alright, whatever you say. Tomorrow works for me. I have a break in my schedule around noon, that work for you?” Bucky asked, voice casual and carefree. So different from the man you met yesterday at the start of the interview. Almost like his cool exterior was a barrier he put up for the outside world.

“Yeah, that sounds great.” You said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. It was only a follow up interview after all.

“Okay, see you at the Avengers Compound at noon tomorrow. Bye darlin’”

“Bye Bucky.” You replied before you let your finger hit the red button on your phone screen. You tried, and failed, to stop the smile that slowly worked its way on your face, making your cheeks hurt. Tomorrow you would see Bucky again. That thought was enough to sustain you through the rest of your long work shift.

Taglist: @heatherhollowayst

#the journalist and the winter soldier #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #mcu fanfic #avengers fanfic #reader insert

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name-me-regret · 5 years ago

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The Hoodie Borrower - Chapter 8

Summary:

Tony wasn’t going to get involved with the kid. He’d made a mistake bringing him to Germany. Then he started to realize that he needed to keep this dumbass kid alive. Yeah, that’s all it was.

Author Note: So, I got super blocked and I kept going back to methods of trying to get past it but it didn’t work for a long time. Yeah... so, sorry this is so late. Didn’t mean for it to happen. Thanks to Diana for her spamming and encouragement. You helped me, girl.

Read it on AO3.

- - - -

“When the night has come And the land is dark And the moon is the only light we'll see No I won't be afraid, no I won't be afraid Just as long as you stand, stand by me And darlin', darlin', stand by me Oh, stand by me Woah, stand now Stand by me, stand by me Whenever you're in trouble won't you stand by me Oh, stand by me Woah, just stand now Oh, stand, stand by me...“

~Stand By Me - Ben E. King - - - - Peter grinned as he read the text message that Miles had sent him, always thinking his friend was super funny. He’d just scored a DVD player from the dumpster a few blocks from school as he headed for the subway to get home. Even if it didn’t work, Peter was pretty confident that he could get it working once again. Miles to go for road work: So... wanna hang out this weekend? I found this awesome cafe last time. Wanna get some food or something? Peter bee Parker: Yeah sure, that’d be great. MJ likes cafes and stuff, and Ned is always down. Let me ask them if they’re free Miles to go for road work: Oh, yeah sure. Lemme know. All the way in Brooklyn, a teenage boy let his head drop onto the pillow with a groan. “Damnit,” he mumbled. Ganke laughed from his seat at his computer. “Again?” Another groan was Ganke’s answer. “Parker is totally oblivious, man. You gotta ask him straight... well, maybe straight isn’t the right word for it.” “Fuck off,” Miles grumbled. “Anyways, what I’m more concerned about are these... new abilities of yours. What’re you planing on doing with them? Gonna become like that crazy dude on YouTube?” Miles turned on his back and looked at his hand, flinching as electricity crackled along it. “I dunno,” he muttered, flexing his hand and tried to do it again only for nothing to happen. “I think I gotta figure them out first before I decide to do anything.” Ganke hummed in agreement as he continued to type on his laptop. - - - - “Hey May.” “How was school today?” she asked as he tossed his bag aside and put the DVD player he’d found in the trash on the table. “It was ok,” he said with a bit of a shrug. “There’s this crazy car parked outside...” He turned to face her and froze when he saw Tony freaking Stark sitting in his living room. “Oh, Mr. Parker,” the man said with a smirk. - - - - Chaos Squad Peter bee Parker: Sorry guys can’t make it to the cafe! I’ll explain when I get back Miles to go for road work well go when you get back Michelle aka the boss has changed the group chat to Nerd Squad Ned your boi: Type F to pay respects to Peter ‘ditches’ Parker Miles to go for road work: F Michelle aka the boss: F Peter bee Parker: :(( - - - - Peter groaned as he lay on the concrete of the airport terminal, not wanting to get up but he forced himself when he heard what might have been machine gunfire. He sat up, clutching his bruised ribs and lifted his face. The fourteen year old was horrified as he saw what appeared to be War Machine falling out of the sky, judging by the colors of the armor. He staggered to his feet, stepping forward as if he would help him, but he didn’t have super speed and would never make it in time. Peter heard Mr. Stark’s desperate cry of the Colonel’s name moments before he plowed at high speeds into the unforgiving ground. Peter shut off the comm with a shaking hand, the other one still holding it against his abdomen. “Kid,” he heard, turning to see Happy signaling Peter to follow him. He glanced toward the direction he had seen War Machine fall, before he turned and hurried away. - - - -

Tony went against the doctor’s orders when they told him he needed complete bed rest. He knew he should be resting, because he was in such pain due to his cracked sternum from getting a vibranium shield slammed into his arch reactor in his chest. It had been like after Afghanistan all over again, and it was hard to take deep breaths without feeling pain, and if he coughed or laughed it was agony. However, he had to see the kid home. He knew that Happy could have easily taken him home, since he’d picked him up four days ago. Tony had to meet with Rhodey and coordinate their plan or attack. It had been such a difficult thing to think about, attacking whom had once been their friends. And he had almost let Happy take him, because of the pain. Then the image of being knocked out of the air by that giant hand had invaded his brain, Rhodey falling with frightening speed toward the ground. So, he had gotten his battered and bruised body up. As he dressed with difficulty, Tony realized that he never should have taken him into this fight. He was fourteen years old for crying out loud. Luckily, he was more resilient than he gave him credit for, but the imagine of the kid laying on the tarmac looking broken wouldn’t leave his head. Tony picked up the kid from his hotel room and driven them to the airport. And even if he had been on it before, Peter was still so amazed by the plane and the seats and being in the air for the second time in his short life (fourteen!), and his guileless attitude eased some of the hurt (Don’t think of it). Then he had fallen asleep, proving he was more tired (or hurt) than he was letting on. That was after eating three servings of the meals on board. Tony was looking through the newspaper Happy had shoved in his hand and was amused as he remembered how much the man had bitched about it. He must have dozed off as well, since he was also still injured and exhausted (more emotionally than physically). Tony hadn’t even woken up when Happy had lowered his seat to a more comfortable position. It was as they cleared USA airspace that he was woken up, by several dozen beeps. He jerked out of his slumber and into a defensive position, feeling agony shoot through his chest. The man bit his lip to stop the cry that wanted to claw up his throat, seeing black spots from the pain. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and Roger’s voice (which he’d come to despise) in his ear ’He’s my friend.’ ‘So was I.’ The shield, which had been made by his father and that had once stood for justice, coming down as if for a death blow as he helplessly- “Oh, mood,” a young voice giggled. Tony’s eyes shifted to the right and came to alight on one Peter Parker, a smile on his face still plump with baby fat. He was looking through his phone and Tony realized all at once that the beeping had been coming from his shitty iPhone. They must have gotten within satellite range of whatever phone company May Parker had. It took him another moment to realize he was staring, and that’s likely why the teen was giving him a questioning look. Tony cleared his throat before he spoke. “You’re certainly popular, or is it a clingy girlfriend?” he teased, hoping his voice didn’t sound forced. He was certainly forcing himself. Tony was amused at the look on kid’s face, seeing the flush crawling up his cheeks. “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he muttered petulantly as he hunched his shoulders. “A cling boyfriend then? I don’t judge. Free love and all that.” Peter’s face was pretty red by then and Tony felt like giggling. He was so easy to fluster, and it was a refreshing change. Peter wasn't like Steve at all, who would have shaken his head and ignored Tony. Well, he supposed that he still wasn't use to Tony's antics, and gave it a month until he was sick of Tony. It was bound to happen. "No, Mr. Stark. It's just my friends Ned and Miles. They're roasting me on Discord," he said with an eyeroll but a smile on his face. It was a fond kind of smile that Tony hadn't worn since the days before the Avengers had become a thing. When it had just been Rhodey and him, and Pepper and Tony had just started what wasn't yet a doomed relationship. "Oh, is that so? And what are they "roasting" you about?" he inquired, lifting his hands to do air quotes. Peter giggled. "I can't believe you did the air quotes. That's such a dad thing to do." He was distracted by another ding on his phone that he missed the stunned look on Tony's face.

No one had ever said he was paternal, in any way, and here was this fourteen year old having just crushed all that with one word. Granted, he hadn't actually called him dad, but he had said he had done something a father would do (or did). And even if it wasn't a big deal, since Peter had gone back to laughing at his phone, it was huge to Tony. He had no fatherly qualities and had no plans on becoming a dad, since his own father hadn't been... the best dad. So, he knew he would never make a good one. As they dropped off the kid off in front of his apartment building, where he had laughed for the first time since before the Siberia incident, he knew he had to put some distance between Peter and him. He'd planned on taking the superhero teenager under his wing and teaching him the ropes, and perhaps he would be better than he had been; wouldn't make the same mistakes he'd once done. Now, however, after that one word, Tony couldn’t take the kid on as a mentee, it just wasn’t possible. He had to break away now, while he still had a chance. Besides, he'd be fine. How much trouble could a super-kid get into stopping purse snatchers? - - - - When he had to save the disaster super-kid from drowning after getting tangled in his own parachute, he knew he couldn’t leave him alone anymore. Now, he had a new job, whether he wanted it or not. That new job was to keep one dumbass super kid from killing themselves. - - - - "Uuuugh," Miles groaned as he landed heavily on the concrete, spitting up a bit of blood which got on the mask he was wearing. He'd gotten the idea to use a Mexican wrestler's mask to hide his identity for now, since using a ski mask would make him look like a burglar. Ganke rushed to his side as soon as he climbed the five flights of steps of the apartment building, breathing heavily. "H-holy... shit, Miles?" he gasped. coughing a bit. "Is... anything broken?" He pulled up the mask, spat the blood in his mouth and lifted a thumbs up. Then fell back against the pavement, another pained groan escaping his mouth. "Rip," his traitorous friend laughed at him, reaching out to help him off the ground. "Come on, enough with trying to kill yourself. Don't you have a date today?" Miles elbowed him with a scowl. "It's not a date." Ganke just laughed as he clutched his stomach. "Crashed and burned again," he cackled. Miles only grumbled but didn't deny it. "Is he still gushing over that Liz girl?" When his friend's shoulders slumped as he sighed, Ganke only patted his shoulder sympathetically. It was one thing to try and ask Peter out and fail, but another to see him crushing after some girl from his school. Miles was hoping it was more that he was oblivious than him being straight. Because if he was straight, than he was screwed.

“This sucks,” he grumbled, Ganke nodding solemnly, even if Miles knew he was an asshole that enjoyed his pain. He didn’t know why he was friends with him.

“Come on, let’s grab some burgers. My treat,” he told him.

Oh yeah, cause he was awesome and bought him food constantly since his metabolism had skyrocketed like crazy.

“Then we can work out why you suck at asking out one guy to a single date.”

Also, cause they were roommates and it was too late in the year to change rooms. - - - - Peter jumped as his phone rang, fumbling with it for a moment and it was only his sticky powers that kept it from falling to the pavement down below. "Hello?" he asked uncertainly, recognizing the number but not sure if it was really Mr. Stark.

“Hey, kid, do you want to come over to work in the lab Friday after school?”

The fifteen year old was sure he was dreaming, so he used his free hand to pinch his right arm. It hurt. So, meant he wasn’t dreaming. “S-sure!” he sputtered before he could change his mind.

“Great. Happy will pick you up after school. I’ll call Aunt Hottie and let her know.”

He hung up before he could ask him how he had his aunt’s phone number, but he should have known better. He’d found him when he had thought he was being super careful on keeping his secret identity a.. well, a secret.

- - - - Peter grinned as he put the finishing touches on his new web shooters. “I did it! I can’t believe I was able to make this all on my own-“

The canister exploded, covering him in webbing as he was flung back. He’d clenched his eyes and mouth closed, his senses screaming at him in time that he was able to spare them from being filled with the sticky webbing. When he opened them and glanced around, he realized he was stuck to the wall, arms and legs spread-eagle. Well, at least he could see, even if opening his eyes had been hard, but breathing was proving to be a bit difficult.

As he wondered how he was going to get out of this, the door opened with a swish and it was only cause he was already facing them that he saw them, since he was barely able to turn his head. Tony and a blonde haired teenage boy he didn’t recognize were standing there. He was super embarrassed, and also, he couldn’t breathe.

FRIDAY must have alerted Tony of this (he also couldn’t hear too well), because the man hurried over, grabbing a screwdriver on his desk to cut away the webbing covering his face. Now that he was closer he could kind of hear him. “Jesus, kid,” he grunted as he freed his nose and mouth, and Peter took in a gasping breath. “Is that better? Breathing okay?”

“Yeah,” he croaked. Peter tried to pull away from the wall, but realized he’d have to use his super strength to accomplish this, and he didn’t want to let this other boy know and possibly oust himself as Spider-Man. By then the other had reached Tony’s side, whom was taller than the man.

“Isn’t there like something to dissolve it?” he asked, eyebrows raised questionably. His dark blue eyes were almost like the deep waters of the ocean.

Peter shook his head when he realized he’d actually been seeing black spots. “Y-yeah, I think it’s in a jar in that drawer behind you.” The kid went to do that while Tony continued to cut away the webbing covering his face. His hands were shaking.

“Don’t scare me like that, Peter. I have a heart condition.”

The use of his name showed how shaken he’d been, and it was a scary thing. He’d been thrown against the wall, and that had punched out the air from his lungs. The webbing had been so thick that he couldn’t get any air in. So, Peter would have been in trouble if Tony and this other kid hadn’t come when they had.

By that time he’d managed to uncover his entire head and face, and the other had returned so he couldn’t say anything to his words. “Is this it?”

Peter had put it in a small spray can for easier administration, so it was easy for Tony to take it and spray it about three times and get him down. “The rest can dissolve in water.”

“You’ll have ta get in clothes an’ all,” the other teen said, and Peter now noticed his southern accent. It sounded nice, a real change from the usual New York accent, and Miles’s Brooklyn accent. He was wearing a black denim Harley Davidson jacket of some kind with a black hoodie under that, and some frayed blue jeans with some beat up sneakers.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he grumbled. There wasn’t enough dissolvent to get rid of all the webbing. He went to walk away and looked at him. “Um, nice to meet you. I’m Peter. P-Parker. Peter Parker,” he stuttered, feeling his face warming.

What a terrible first impression. This was almost as bad as the basketball covered in dog poop incident when he’d first met Miles. Peter just hoped this turned out alright in the end as well, and especially with him having a new friend.

“Nice to meet you, Peter Parker. I’m Harley Keener,” he said with a grin. “Hope we can become friends.”

“Sure!” he enthused, his voice breaking and making him flush even more. “I’m gonna,” he motioned toward the door.

As soon as Peter walked off, the blonde boy turned to Tony. “So, that’s the intern you’ve been raving about?” Tony sighed and nodded. “Yeah, that’s my disaster kid,” he confirmed.

Harley nodded with a hum. “So, you didn’t tell me he was super cute.”

“Excuse me, what?”

“Since he’s your kid, does that mean I’d be your son-in-law if I started dating him?”

Tony looked at him and then pointed at the door. “Get out of my lab.” Harley cackled and simply ignored him.

- - - - When Peter came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, it was to a pile of clothes folded neatly on his bed. He didn’t have clothes in the room that Tony had dubbed as ‘his’, so they must have been Tony’s clothes. When he saw an old but well maintained MIT grey hoodie, he knew they had to be. It was warm when he pulled it over the slightly baggy shirt and pants.

If he purposefully kept it, well, Tony never asked for it back.-

#Hoodie Borrower #Peter Parker #Miles Morales #Tony Stark #Ganke Lee #Harley Keener #Michelle Jones #Ned Leeds #Fanfiction #bisexual miles morales #oblivious peter parker #The Hoodie Borrower

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