#anyway im laying in bed rn listening to him try and figure out how to parkour and open the latest cupboard ive hidden generic food in | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ladybugsfanfics · 4 years

Text

The Case of the Blue Sweater | Tom Hiddleston

Pairing: Mob!Tom Hiddleston x cop!reader

Style: one shot

WC: 10.7k

Warnings: crime, alcohol, drinking, implied sexual content (very much so), uhh, theres no blood, also NB: THIS STORY IS INCOMPLETE AND I WONT BE THE ONE TO FINISH IT! (story is also unedited to please dont hate me for any mistakes)

Summary: Hey so I read your Mob!Tom x reader and it got me thinking.. Could you write a Fic where Tom is in the mob but the reader is a cop? And like they’re secretly dating but technically the reader has to make it look like they’re hunting him down but they really aren’t? (If that makes sense) Idk I feel like I just need this in my life rn 😂😂

A/N: i got this ask back in january i think and i jumped on it right away, but at some point tumblr deleted it so i cant tag who asked (and i know this wasnt anonymous bc i remember but i never put it in the doc annoyingly). anyways, i started writing it, got to 10k words and lost motivation and never finished it. i really like the AU but nothing ever really happened.... im so sorry. I hope you enjoy what i have ^_^

A loud ringing paired with the loudest on and off buzzing from your phone vibrating on the nightstand is what pulls you out of your slumber. The sounds screech in your ears and you reach over to stop it, to just slide the button over so that your ears can stop bleeding. However, as you lean out of the arms wrapped around you, their grip strengthens and you’re dragged back into the chest of the man sharing your bed.

“Tom,” you say. A smile plays on your lips, the set of events not unusual for an early morning.

He nuzzles into your hair, places a wet kiss at the base of your neck. “Five minutes,” he mumbles into your skin.

You shake your head slightly, as much as you can with the limited space. “Can I at least turn the sound off?”

His grip slackens, making you able to reach the little way over to turn off the blaring alarm. The silence that comes with is welcome in every way, but the relief isn’t long-lasting when Tom drags you back into his chest, his nose quickly nuzzling back to where it was.

Two seconds is what it takes before he’s pressing kisses to your neck. Rough, slender fingers graze up the side of your body until they reach your neck, where they brush away your hair. With Tom’s easy access, the soft kisses slowly turn into something more, something rougher, and the use of his tongue causes a slight tickle to trail through your body.

“Tom.” You shift a little where you lay, taking away his access as you turn your head. In the shift, the man easily moves to trail kisses up your jaw, and as you whisper his name again, his lips connect with yours.

It’s a hungry kiss. He sucks at your bottom lip and his hand grabs your jaw, holding your head in place. You lean into him, kissing him back with equal fervor, however, you’re quickly dragged out of the bliss, when your phone goes off again.

There is no mistaking the death glare Tom sends the mini-computer. You chuckle slightly and push him off you to reach it. This time, it’s not an alarm, but a phone call.

Your boss’s call ID lights up the screen, and you give Tom a stern look as you press to accept the call. With the phone to your ear, Tom shrugs and moves under the covers. His hands trail down your body, teasing you as his fingers trace up your inner thighs.

“Y/L/N,” you say.

A grunt is heard from the other side first, then, “I need you to come in ASAP.” Your boss’s voice sounds urgent, desperate.

You check the clock. “I’m not supposed to come in in another hour,” you reply. “Is it that important?”

“Yeah, wouldn’t have called you otherwise.” It’s like you can hear him nod and roll his eyes at the same time. “We got a lead in the case.”

“What kind of lead? And which case?”

As your boss answers, you can feel Tom’s tongue on the inside of your thigh. In surprise at the feeling you barely manage to suppress the squeal that works up in your throat, and you miss your boss’s reply. (You don’t miss Tom’s smug laugh from under the duvet, nor how he continues to work his way closer to your clit.)

“Y/L/N?” comes from the other end of the line when you gain back… well, really some of your dignity, but mostly your mind.

“I’m here, sir.” You sigh. “Just something that happened that caught my attention. Cat nearly knocked down something made of glass.”

(You don’t have a cat, why was that the first excuse you could come up with? Your boss doesn’t know that, though, so it’s safe.)

“Didn’t know you had a cat, but that could happen to the best of us.” Your boss clears his throat. “The lead’s pretty good, but can’t say it over the phone so you gotta come in. It’s on the case about the Blue Sweater.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname of the case. One of the major criminals you were trying to take down is often seen wearing blue sweaters, and at a briefing you’d offered it as a code name; who knows who listens in on phone calls―they do seem to have a knack for being one step ahead of you, too.

But you don’t mention that to your boss. “Alright, sir, I’ll be on my way as fast as I can.”

“Make it less than half an hour and we’re good.”

“No problem, sir.”

Your boss is the one to hang up, and as you throw your phone down on the bed, Tom peeks his head up from under the covers. You send him a glare. “You should be happy you didn’t get started whilst I was on the phone.”

Your boyfriend smirks up at you. “Oh, you wouldn’t have liked that?”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t like it.”

Tom shrugs. “You got time, right?” Though before you can answer he slides back under the cover, uses his hands to steady your hips and dips his head low. God, if only you had more time.

The moment the elevator door opens and you step out into the crowded office space of the police station, you hear your name being called. You wish you weren’t the head detective on the, currently, biggest case pertaining to crime bosses. Just once you wish you could come to work and not have at least five people at a time want to ask you a question or pepper you with information you already have.

You kind of wish you weren’t the head detective for another reason, too, but that’s a minor detail. Actually, that might be the reason you need to be the head detective; way easier to steer an investigation when you’re leading it.

Nonetheless, you have no choice in which cases you lead or not. And that’s usually the reason why there’s three people cluttering your desk as you sit down. You’re not entirely sure that’s the reason today.

You plop down in your chair and stare up at the talking men in front of you. The three of them notice you quickly (after all, it was them that yelled your name) and the chatter dies out.

“I’m here half an hour early and I would love to know what made me skip my morning shower.” (It would have been morning shower sex, and you are a little very annoyed that you had to skip it.)

Your boss coughs, gaining your attention. “Briefing room. Five minutes.” The man looks slightly uncomfortable, but that’s not a big surprise. You’ve been told many times that you have that kind of face that makes people squirm; just something about you is, apparently, intimidating.

“Okay.”

And he walks away.

“You two doing at my desk then?” you ask your coworkers. The two men are your right and left hand in most cases, but this one especially. You wouldn’t even be half the way you are now if you didn’t have them. (Though how much that says, you’re not sure, because you really have nothing.)

“Well…,” starts Mackie. His hand goes up to scratch his neck. “...really we just naturally gravitate here.”

You squint at him, and divert your gaze to Evans (who you know is a shitty liar). Even though you’re not opening your mouth to say anything and he isn’t looking at you, you can see the big man trying to make himself smaller.

“We were gonna try and see if you’d left a hint to who you’re sleeping with,” he says, and despite the way he doesn’t meet your gaze, he says it so casually you’re actually taken aback.

“Excuse me?” You let out a huff, and shake your head. “My sex life is my sex life. You two” ―you point at both of them― “have no business with it.” You stand up from your chair and shake your head yet again. “And if you really think I’d leave evidence lying around, I gotta figure out how to let you know that’s not something I’d do.”

(And if you had, well, your career would for sure be over. If not worse.)

But with that out of the way, you make your way to the briefing room. Captain Cheadle, your boss, stands at the head of the table. In his hand, he holds a wireless presenter, and a few papers are scattered on the table in front of him. You take your place at the table, and as you do, your phone buzzes to signal a new message.

The captain gives you a shrug and that’s all the permission you need to fish your phone from your pocket and check the text.

[08.38] twh darling, you left something at your flat

[08.38] you you talking about yourself? that doesnt count

[08.39] twh that too but no, you left your keys

[08.39] you you doing anything today??

[08.39] twh you know i am, but i can get them to you

[08.40] you gtg but yes please or there are other solutions…

You let out a slight groan knowing you’ll have to figure out how to get your keys without actually meeting Tom. You can’t meet in public, and there are few places where you can meet without being discovered; there’s a reason you’re always at your apartment and never at his house. (well, you’ve been there once, but that was with work and it doesn’t count.)

Whatever his reply is to the latest text you sent, you don’t get to read (though you do feel the vibration on your thigh). Captain Cheadle has called for your attention, Mackie and Evans having seated themselves in the room as well, and you can’t do anything but pay attention to your boss.

“The tip we got is an inside tip.” The captain steps aside to let the projector show a photo of the biggest crime boss currently in New York City, Tom Hiddleston. As with every other photo he’s in, he’s wearing a fucking blue sweater. “The source is reliable, as we know of their work with Hiddleston, but we’re not sure if the tip is.”

He clicks to another photo, which is of the same man getting into a car. Only, he’s getting into the driver’s seat, something that is unusual for someone that has his own driver. “We can’t know if the tip is true or not, but we’re guessing there’s some truth to it.”

You roll your eyes slightly (not enough for the captain to notice). “Can you tell us what it is yet?”

Captain Cheadle nods. “There’s been a mystery woman in his life. None of his men know, but based on a lift in spirits and an increase in nights gone from his own house, they believe he has to be seeing someone. Rumor amidst his men, according to our tip, is that it's been going on for a few months.”

A knot tightens in your gut. A few months is a little less than correct, but yeah… It’s been six months since you started dating Tom Hiddleston. Off work, on a weekend, you met him in a bar, you got drunk and your mind didn’t work in any other way than tell you how hot he was and how good he made you feel. There was little persuasion needed for Tom to get you in a bed, naked, and screaming out his name. And so far, he’s managed to do it most nights since.

(The case had been assigned to you a month after your first encounter. You’d known his name well before you met him, but that hadn’t stopped you. And, even as his girlfriend, you had no evidence on him whatsoever.)

Yet, after six months of no one knowing anything, you’d been fairly certain you’d get away with it. At least until either one of you got enough of pretending. Tom has enough money for you to quit your job should it come to it, the only problem being that you don’t want to because you love your job.

“Did your source say anything about who the woman could be? Where to find her?” asks Evans.

You wait patiently for the reply. Your gut stirs with the thought that they’d know, that just your face (usually a poker-face no one could read no matter how much you panicked on the inside) would reveal you. But you aren’t revealing anything but being deep in thought, as you can feel Mackie’s eyes on you as your own flicker across the room and a frown has pronounced itself on your face.

“The tip was slight, but the source believes that there might be something to check at a bar. It’s one Hiddleston frequents, High Rise.”

Oh, if only the name didn’t chime with recognition at the back of your mind. There isn’t much to do but accept your fate and follow up on the lead, only try your best to avoid being recognized as the girl who left with Tom Hiddleston half a year ago. That could be rather easy, seeing as the bar was dark and you’d been wearing more make-up than usual and the dress you wore hadn’t stood out in any way, and it being six months ago.

You nod at captain Cheadle. “Anything else we should know?”

He nods slightly. “There came one more thing with the tip, but this wasn’t a written message.” He roams around his papers for something and eventually fishes out an evidence bag. Inside is an envelope and something small you can’t see from far away. He slides it across the table to you.

Your heart skips a beat at the sight of what lies in the bag. The envelope easily recognizable as one you’d written yourself (though you’d used a typewriter―fancy―so there isn’t any handwriting to check), and the content a barely visible silver and gold wristband inscribed with a phrase Tom has whispered time and time again in your ear (the most intimate you’ve been outside of sex); my safe spot is with you in my arms.

Your fingers graze over it as you look at the inscription. “That’s pretty intimate,” you say, and an agreed murmur comes from your captain.

“You traced it?” asks Mackie.

“Untraceable. Paid in cash, no receipt, and might even have been done illegally.”

At least you know that that’s not true, and if they’d tried just a little bit harder, it wouldn’t be that hard.

“Fingerprints?” you ask, though not sure exactly where it comes from. (Or, well, it comes from the fact that you’ve touched the wristband on several occasions and that, unless wiped, there should be fingerprints all over it.)

You look up from the evidence bag to see captain Cheadle shake his head. “A few around the clasp, but none enough to make a full print, and any other we could find are only Hiddleston’s. The envelope’s the same”

“The question is whether Hiddleston sent it to someone or if someone sent it to him.” Evans motions for you to slide the evidence over to him, and you do.

“He’s the biggest crime lord in New York, he’s gotta be real smitten if he’d make that to send to someone.” Mackie shrugs, not sold on the idea that Tom Hiddleston, crime boss extreme, could be sappy enough to send it apparently.

Well, if only you knew what Tom would do for the one he loves, if only you knew.

“Well,” you say and clap your hands together, “seems we have more to do today than reports.”

A slight chuckle comes from the three men in the room with you.

“I want you, Mackie, with me on a trip down to High Rise. Captain, is it possible to talk to our source other than written communication?”

A nod.

“Then I want you, Evans, to have a little chat with Hiddleston’s ex-buddy. Let’s see if he doesn’t have more information, and if you can’t get much, try a little harder on the wristband. There’s gotta be something to look for there, maybe mention it to our source?”

“On it.” Evans gives you a thumbs up, grabs the evidence and walks out the door. You and Mackie move to do the same, and on your way there, you fish your phone out from your pocket.

[08.41] twh i’ll have to get back to you on that, but you can probably count me in have a good day, darling

[09.27] you sounds great but, on some not so good news, you got a snitch amidst you and i have smth that belongs to you in evidence

You don’t wait for a reply, certain he’s busy and also because Mackie is a nosy asshole and you’re not gonna get caught on a text message.

“You know where High Rise is?” asks Mackie as you make your way to your desk.

“GPS exists, but I have a hunch,” you say as you grab your jacket. Unfortunately, that hunch is more a hunch that your relationship is getting threatened by your work.

(“A hunch. Yeah, right, you’ve probably been there.”

“Careful what you say there, kiddo.”

“I’m older than you!”

“And yet, I’m driving.”)

[09.53] twh name? and what might that be?

[11.16] you i didnt get one but one of my guys is questioning him smth i bought you

[11.17] twh ill figure it out, and that has to be my wristband. how?

[11.17] you you tell me

Mackie nudges your arm with his elbow as you make it inside the bar. It’s mostly deserted, highly unlike the life that was there the last time you set foot in the place. A man sits in the booth in the back sipping what looks like whiskey based on the glass and the brown liquid inside. By the entrance, a woman and a man sit across each other at a table. Each of them have a beer, though only the man looks to have touched his, and the woman doesn’t look too happy with him.

However, you turn your attention to the bar, and the bartender behind the counter. Fortunately, he’s not the same one that was here when you were. Making your way over, you note the exits (the one you came in through, a backdoor in the kitchen, and―one you noted the first time you were there―the window in the ladies’ room). You also note the man sitting at the edge of the bar counter, back hunched over and an old fashioned placed in front of him. Untouched.

“How can I help you?” asks the man behind the counter. A bushy beard covers his chin, ruffled brown hair the top of his head, and tattoos cover his upper arm, visible where his t-shirt sleeve ends. In his hands he holds a cleaning towel and a glass, but as you sit down, he slings the towel over his shoulder and puts the glass down. “Guessing beer for you, sir, and maybe a scotch on the rocks for the lady?”

You shake your head, and roll your eyes at Mackie’s almost nod. You’re at work, you’re not gonna drink. “Sorry, mister, but we’re here on other business.” You pull out your badge and give him a peek.

The bartender’s eyes go wide. “Sorry, ma’am, didn’t know. You could've fooled me.” He holds out a hand. “I’m Tom Hardy, co-owner of this shithole.”

“Shithole?” Mackie eyes the man.

“Can’t say there’s a lot of good going on in here, really. Nothin’ illegal, though.” Hardy winks at Mackie and you roll your eyes. The last thing you care about is the tiny illegal things going on at the bar. “What can I help you with? There’s not been any complaints, right?”

Mackie shakes his head. “Relax, man, it’s got nothing to do with you. We’re looking for information on a man, also named Tom, but with a different last name. Hiddleston, heard of him?”

The scoff Tom Hardy comes with is barely audible, but you catch it and cock your head to the side.

“Who hasn’t heard of Tom Hiddleston? Supposedly a big mafia boss, but the police has got nothing on him.”

“We got word he frequents this bar. That true?”

Hardy nods. “He’s by at least once a week, sometimes more.”

You try to drown the ache that falls over your heart knowing he still comes by. “You know what he’s here for?”

The bartender shrugs. “Don’t get into that shit, but I know he has a deal with my co-owner, Luke Evans.”

Mackie pulls out a pad and a pen and writes down the name. “Hiddleston ever leave here with a girl in the last few months?”

Hardy shakes his head. “Nah, leaves with the same men, though he has gotten different. Before he used to indulge a little more with the women, but now he seems to not want to. They want him, though.”

The ache fades a little at that. He’s loyal, he’s trustworthy, he’s yours. “Did he use to leave with girls before?” you ask.

“Dunno. He’s usually here when Luke works, only some shifts we got together.” Hardy shrugs. “Though the times I have been here, he’s never left with a girl. He’s followed some into the bathroom, but never left with one. Gotta be some special girl for him to leave with her.”

You suppress the smile that tugs at your lips. “Thank you, mister Hardy. Could you get us in touch with your co-owner? We wanna have a little chat with him, too.”

“He works tonight. Sorry, can’t give you anymore.” The man picks up a glass again. “But if we’re done here, you’re gonna have me excused. I have a job to do.”

“Thanks for the cooperation,” says Mackie and pushes away from the counter. “We might come back for more.”

You say a small goodbye as you follow after your coworker. On the way to the door, your eyes stray to the man in the back of the bar. Something about him seems off, and even more so when he holds up his glass and tips it your way with a slight hint of a ‘cheers’. The creepy smirk that places itself on his face sparks no comfort, and you let out a sigh as you walk through the door Mackie holds open for you.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

“Got a weird feeling from one of the dudes in the bar. Might be nothing, might be something.” You shake your head, slowly, as your thoughts whirr around in your head. “Doesn’t matter. If he’s here tonight, I might check into it, but it’s probably nothing.”

Mackie shrugs. “We didn’t really get that much here either, though. Hope Evans got better luck.”

“Yeah, gotta hope. But I have a feeling our source might’ve changed his mind on talking.” You open the car door and get in, Mackie following your lead. “I have a feeling Evans might not have been very lucky.”

“You thinkin’ we might end up with… homicide?”

You shrug. “Can’t be sure, but wouldn’t be surprising. Don’t believe we’re gonna be able to connect it to Hiddelston, though.” You start the engine and pull out on the road. “Don’t believe we’re gonna have any connection other than the guy’s snitching.”

“Good enough to talk to him.”

“Good enough to blow what we have if we do.”

The police station became a place of chaos in a matter of seconds. One moment, you’re talking to Evans on what he could find (the source had disappeared without a trace), and the next, it’s like the station is on fire.

Evans, Mackie and yourself are out of the loop. You lean against your desk, your coworkers leaning against the neighboring ones, and look at the chaos erupted around you. People run from one place to another, screaming for help or otherwise.

Then silence consumes the crowd as someone turns up the sound of the TV in the background. You turn to see the screen. On it, there’s a picture of a fire and countless dead bodies, burnt crisps until there is nothing recognizable left to see.

“In just a few minutes the house, that belongs to the infamous crime boss Tom Hiddleston, went up in flames. Whether the man himself was in the house or not, we do not know. Police have yet to arrive at the scene, and the firemen are doing their best to put out the blazing fire. So far, we have no witnesses and no way of knowing what caused it. We’ll be back soon with more updates.”

You lock eyes with Evans and Mackie.

“Our source was in that fire, wasn’t he?” Mackie makes a grimace, and then shakes his head and throws his hands up in the air. “You called it. You fucking called it.”

“I didn’t want to call it.” You shake your head. “And we’re not the force to go out there either, so we’re gonna need someone to talk to Hiddleston about this, about his source, without it being suspicious.”

Evans gets up from his place. “I’ll ask Sebastian.”

“That buddy of yours?” you ask.

“This is the kind of case he gets called out on.”

“Go ahe―”

“Y/L/N!” You’re cut off by the sound of your captain yelling your name. “You’re going out with the team. Take one of the boys. Don’t alert Hiddleston, but he’ll know why you’re there.”

“You got it, sir.” You turn to Mackie and Evans. “Looks like we got some luck after all. Which one of you wanna join me?”

When you pull up to the scene, the fire has been put out. But the fire that is the press and the countless people that’ve decided this is something they need to see live, that has yet to be handled.

You and Evans walk up to the police barricade tape and shove it aside. An office tries to stop you, but you easily walk past after a flash of your badge. The head officer on the case is easily recognizable where he commands what looks like some junior officers.

“What’s the deal?” you ask.

He turns to you, and there you find Evans’s and Mackie’s friend, Sebastian Stan. He smiles at the two of you. “Got five casualties, one critically hurt on his way to the hospital. Medics think his fate’s been sealed. Other than that the fire’s been put out, and the owner of the house arrived about five minutes ago.” Sebastian points to a male figure pacing up and down the sidewalk. “Don’t know if I’d wanna talk to him though.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. “We haven’t got much choice.” You’re about to walk from the officer, but you have one last question. “You got any identities on who died?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, and so far it seems the fire was an accident. No fuel used of any kind, nothing weird about the source, and the six that were in the house weren’t close to it. Three of them were asleep.”

“Didn’t the house have a smoke alarm?” asks Evans.

Sebastian shakes his head. “Nope. And you’re not gonna believe what they, as of now, believe to be the source.”

“What?”

“A hair dryer. Wasn’t turned off.”

You frown. “A hair dryer? Nothing else? It’s a pretty big house. Seems like a long shot.”

Sebastian shrugs. “So far we’ve ruled out arson, and seeing how annoyed the owner is over there, safe to say he wasn’t planning on burning his house down.”

Don’t say that. He wouldn’t care, seeing as that isn’t the house he uses mostly―that’s just the public one.

Even Evans knows that, and you give him a look as you move away from Sebastian and towards said owner of the house.

“Hiddleston,” you say as you near him.

The man turns around. His expression is curious rather than angry, but something tugs at his lips as his gaze flickers over to Evans. “Miss Y/L/N, what do I owe the lovely pleasure?”

“Your house burned down. Five of your men dead, and a sixth one just holding on. We’re thinking he’ll die, too, medics said it was critical.” You shrug. “But you already knew that, right?”

Tom smiles, and takes a step closer to you. You have to hold out a hand to stop Evans from coming in between, knowing you have somewhat of a bodyguard in the man. “Darling.” Tom’s hand comes up to cup your cheek and you have to fight the urge to lean into his touch. “How could I know that? No one wants to tell me a bloody thing.” His voice changes fast at the last sentence, the annoyance creeping in.

“Did you set the fire?” asks Evans.

You roll your eyes. “He doesn’t mean to ask that. But we would like to know if there are any of your acquaintances missing?”

Tom nods. “There’s one I wanted to talk to. Name’s Aaron Taylor-Johnson. Haven’t been able to contact him since last night, and that’s unusual.”

“You think he was in the fire?”

The male shakes his head. “I don’t believe he was there at all, but I do believe he would do this. I got the impression he isn’t quite happy with me, or my decisions lately.”

He’s the snitch.

“We’ll let you know if he was in the fire.” You use your hand to push Tom’s hand away from your face, his touch lingering a little too long to be a play (but you weren’t going to complain.) “I have one other inquiry.”

“Go on.”

You take a deep breath before the words leave your mouth. He should be prepared, considering you told him what was in the evidence bag, but you can’t be sure. “Any girlfriends or women in your life we should know about?”

He smiles (god, that smile). “Other than you, love?”

Smooth. You can practically hear Evans roll his eyes behind you.

“Yes, other than me.”

“Then no. I have a far too busy life to deal with girlfriends,” he says, and winks, “though you shouldn’t hesitate to contact me.” Tom leans in close, his lips grazing your ear and his hand taking yours―something cold grazes your fingers. “I can give you a night you won’t forget.”

You don’t let the hitch in your breath show, and when he places a kiss to your cheek, you only stare at him as he pulls away (and let your hand find comfort in your jacket pocket where you let go of your keys).. “Don’t leave town, Mister Hiddleston.”

“I won’t, darling.”

And then you walk away together with Evans. He keeps glancing behind him, and the confusion is written on his face.

“Just ask,” you say as you reach the car.

Evans opens the door. “How are you not fazed by that?” he asks.

You get into the car and shrug. “Because I don’t let it. He thinks it’s fun to play with me because I don’t have a reaction―” (ehehe, yeah right) “―I think it’s fun to let him. Eventually, something has to slip and we’ll be able to catch him on the spot.”

“But you gotta allow yourself to be harassed to do so?”

You chuckle. “I wouldn’t call it harassment, hon. I call it work.”

Evans frowns as you start the engine and pull out of the parking spot. “What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you noticed? When it comes to sexual harassment, Tom Hiddleston is the least of my worries.”

It’s supposed to be a brief stop; get into your apartment, change into something that doesn’t drag attention at a bar on a Thursday night (probably not going to be too crowded anyways), and get out.

But when you walk in through the door, you see a pair of shoes kicked off in the entrance hall. A coat lies draped over your living-room armchair―a coat easily recognizable.

You hurry to close the door, and kick off your own shoes. The trail of clothes leads you further into the apartment. A dress shirt folded together and placed on the cupboard in your living room. Pants lie discarded on the floor in the doorway to your bedroom. And the man who it belongs to, you find tangled in your sheets, buck naked with the exception of the tie around his neck.

“What do you want?” you ask him, an amused smile plastered on your face as you shake your head.

Tom lifts his head a little. A smirk colors his face and he shrugs. “Thought I could surprise you a little, before I have to get going.” He checks the wristwatch on his arm (which you first now noticed he hasn’t taken off either). “But you’ve used quite a lot of time to get here, and now we barely have time for anything.”

You shake your head, smile gone. “Sorry, babe, but I haven’t got the time.”

“What? You have plans for the evening?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, but it still slightly hurts seeing as you barely get out of the apartment when you get time off. Really, six months ago was a chance meeting unlike any other.

“I have work.” You move to open your wardrobe. “But if you want, you can help me figure out what to wear.” You turn your head to cast Tom a glance, eyebrow raised.

He turns a little, enough for the sheet that had covered him to fall off and leave him fully exposed. And with just the tie as a piece of clothing, you have to turn back around. God, what that man can do. You grit your teeth as you open the door and file through the few dresses you own, patiently waiting for his response.

“What is it for?” he asks, and his velvet smooth voice does nothing to ease the growing arousal in your gut, not with the image of him and that tie the only thing on your mind.

You swallow before you reply, but you don’t dare turn around. “Gotta talk to the owner of a bar, and don’t wanna drag attention with people there so we agreed to act less like police. Might have to have a drink or two.” You sigh, and close your eyes. “You should have waited with this until then.”

“What?” His voice is in your ear, warm breath fanning your neck. You bite down on your lower lip, hard. “You don’t like it? You’re not enjoying it?” His hands find the hem of your shirt. Fingers graze up along your skin and you find yourself complying when he makes a move to drag it off.

“Tom,” you whisper. You lean into him, into the fingers tracing along your bra and the way his lips ghost over the skin on your shoulder, up your neck. “I don’t―” You shudder as he presses a kiss to your jaw. “Ba― Babe, I don’t have―”

He tips your head back and his lips find yours. Barely touching, you close your eyes, and the image of Tom in bed and you using the tie to drag him to you has you swallow, almost succumbing to the pleasure you know you’ll get. His voice is low when he speaks. “Don’t have what?”

You don’t answer as your hand shoots up to press his head closer to yours, to push your lips together. Everything you can think about is him, your boyfriend, and in a matter of seconds your clothes are off as well, and you sink into the mattress as Tom throws you down on your bed. Your eyes open briefly, to see him study the contours of your body and, even as you do give into Tom and your desire, the haste is still on your mind.

With determination etched into you, you drag him to you with the tie and capture his lips in yours. There is no limit to what this man does to you, and there is no limit to what you let him.

With the already extra time you used with Tom, you didn’t have the time to shower. You’d tried your best to fix your hair and do something extra with your make-up, but Tom didn’t have it in him to let you dress and time was wasted.

Evans and Mackie pick you up outside your apartment complex in Evans’s car. As you approach, the two of them lean against it, deep in conversation. They barely notice you coming, but when they do, both give appreciative looks.

“Looking good,” says Mackie, eyes travelling up and down your body. Evans remains quiet, the way his eyes dance over you the only comment you get (and you have to admit, you’re not really complaining.)

You’d opted for something nice, but nothing too much. A skirt that stops mid-thigh, knee high boots with a thick heel, and a slightly revealing shirt. (You’d also opted for a thigh holster so that you could still bring your gun.

“You’re wearing that.” It’s more a statement than a question from the naked man resting on your bed.

You nod, and glance his way. “Problem?”

Tom’s eyes graze over you, hunger evident in them. “I would certainly like to take it off.”

You lift the hem of your skirt, revealing the thigh holster with your gun. “This too?”

“Yes, and right now.”)

In your hand, you have a clutch and you’re also wearing a coat to keep some warmth in the cool evening air. “Shall we go?” you ask.

And the two men both get off from where they’re leaning against the car. Mackie easily offers up the passenger’s seat to you, even though whenever it's him and Evans fighting over it, it’s first come first serve. You smile a thanks and then you’re on your way.

Evans parks a few blocks away from the bar (his expensive Audi with tinted windows certainly drags some attention), and you use the walk there to go through the course of action.

“Mackie’s the cop-cop. He’ll talk to Luke Evans, try something else. We try to talk to some of the people there. Whether that’s as a cop or not, I don’t really care. All we really need is a lead. If anyone sees any of Hiddleston’s associates, please alert the others.”

The two nod. “Sure, but before we go in there, you have to fix your hair.”

You raise your brow at Mackie. “Excuse me?”

“You got sex hair.” He gives you a ‘sorry’ smile and a shrug. “Like, we’re not judging you for having it, but if you’d told us you had a visitor we would’ve waited to come to give you more time.”

“Fuck.” You shake your head and stop. “One, help me fix my hair. Two, I wasn’t planning on it. I was ambushed.” Something that isn’t really that far fetched, it’s not like you knew Tom would be there when you came home.

Evans stops in front of you and asks with his face if he can help, and you nod. His hands move to brush a little through your hair, and fix a little on what probably stands out.

“How could you get ambushed?” asks Mackie.

You roll your eyes. “I got home, there were some clothes lying around, I followed the trail to a naked man in my bed and seeing as it’s the guy I’m currently seeing it wasn’t a bad sight. I tried to tell him I didn’t have the time, but he can be quite persuasive.”

As you talk, Evans tugs a little harshly on your hair and you let out a pained sound. He apologizes, but continues to try and fix your hair.

Mackie shrugs. “How long have you been seeing him?”

You shrug. “Few months.”

“How many months are a few?” asks Evans, his hands letting go of your hair and an approving smile on his face. He steps away to get Mackie’s blessing and the man nods affirmative.

“Uhh, six.”

Both Mackie and Evans stare wide-eyed at you.

“You’ve been dating a dude for six months and not told anyone?!” If you didn’t know better (and you’re not always sure you do), you’d think there was a layer of accusation in Mackie’s voice, but you don’t believe there is.

You shrug and begin to walk again. “What does it matter? It’s not like there’s a need to know about those things.”

“I thought we were friends.” Mackie shakes his head, a small friendly glare sent your way.

“What made you think that?” you ask, but the same friendly feel to your words as there was to his glare. “But can we let it go? I don’t want to talk about my private life.”

Evans nods. “We’re here anyways.”

And you sure are. You look up to see the blinking neon sign of the bar. The bass from the music drifts to where you stand by the door, and with a quick glance inside, you can see it’s fuller than you expected for there to be another work day of the week left. Though you do notice the age of the people; it's possible the college kids don't have class tomorrow, or don’t care.

The three of you make your way inside, gaining a few glances as you step in, but everyone quickly turns back to their own lives. You give a small sign to the two men you came with and move away from them.

It’s easy to step up to the bar, and you easily recognize the bartender as the one who was there when you met Tom. You’re guessing he’s Luke Evans, and you take a breath before you signal him for a drink. Hopefully, you won’t be recognized.

“What can I get you?” he asks.

“A whiskey, thanks.”

He pushes away from the counter, and easily grabs a glass and a bottle and pours. When he puts it down in front of you, his gaze lingers. “Have I seen you before?”

You shake your head. “Has to be somewhere else than here in that case.”

“First time?”

You nod.

“Recommend not drinking a lot. We get some sleazy people in here.”

“I hear you also get crime bosses. This the place to meet the Tom Hiddleston?”

Luke chuckles. “Hon, if you want to meet Tom Hiddleston, I suggest you start being careful what you wish.” He nods to the back of the bar. “Best luck is sitting down in that reserved booth. It’s his usual.”

You cock your head. “He’s coming here today?”

The bartender nods.

“Ain’t I lucky,” you whisper and smile at him. You easily get away from the counter and make your way to the empty booth in the back.

Sure enough, a sign reading reserved is placed on the table. Who it’s reserved for doesn’t say, nor is there a time stamp. You make for sliding into it, but a hand grasps your wrist and pulls you away.

As you fall into the chest of the stranger, you turn your head. The man who you’d seen earlier today is the one holding you back. Up close, you notice bags under his eyes and he reeks of alcohol. You pull away from his grip and raise a brow his way.

“I wouldn’t sit down there if I were you,” he says, and slides into the same booth he had earlier.

“Why?”

He shakes his head. “Tom Hiddleston isn’t a man to mess with.”

“And how do you know so much about Tom Hiddleston?”

The man pats the seat next to him. “Sit and I’ll tell you.”

You hesitate, but eventually slide in. You leave room between yourself and the stranger. If anything were to happen, you do have a gun.

“You got any relation to Hiddleston?” you ask (you have to admit, no matter how much you want your boyfriend not to be caught, you wish you knew more about what he did do).

“Name’s Aaron.” The snitch.

You motion for him to go on.

“I was hired by him three months ago. He felt the cops were gaining and wanted something, or someone to try and put a stopper to it.”

“So, Tom Hiddleston hired you to snitch on the cops?” You want to laugh, seeing as you snitch enough for Tom to never know exactly what you know, but enough to cover his tracks.

Aaron shakes his head. “He hired me to snitch on a cop. A specific one.”

You frown, sure if he was hired to snitch on you you’d know and he would have recognized you. Perhaps he had.

“The cop’s here today.” Aaron’s gaze travels into the crowd of people in the bar. You see where he looks. Evans. “His name is Chris Evans.”

“Why did he want you to spy on him?”

Aaron shrugs. “He never said. And eventually, I got sick of it. The guy’s obviously not a threat to Hiddleston and his business. Y/N Y/L/N is, but it’s impossible to find out anything about her. Don’t even know what she looks like.”

You try not to let it show that you flinched at the mention of your own name. And you find it weird that he can’t find anything on you. Tom did so, easily. But there’s no need to dwell on that. You glance at Aaron again, unsure how to ask.

“You say you got sick of it. What did you do? Just stop doing his bidding, or something else?”

A smile colors Aaron’s face. “Snitched to the cops. Left a message. Anonymous, but I gave them a way to contact me for more information.” He shakes his head. “Got contacted today, but never replied. But I saw you here this morning, talking to the bartender.”

You cock your head. That could be an easy way to draw the connection to you as a cop, not necessarily as Y/N Y/L/N, but you had been seen with Mackie, and usually Mackie and Evans were seen with each other.

“I have a proposition for you,” he says. “One that means getting close to Hiddleston, and that includes spying on him. Mics, cameras, whatever. I need him in jail.”

“I’m gonna have to say no. I was just hoping for a night, a friend of mine told me he was real good in bed.” You shrug. “But if you have angered him, I got told by the bartender that Hiddleston comes in today.”

Aaron smiles. “You’ll have to excuse me, then. I hope you don’t anger him with only the intention of a one night stand. Based on how you look, I’m pretty sure you’re his type.” The male slides out of the booth, downs his drink in one go, and waves goodbye. You watch as he moves to the restrooms, and you roll your eyes when he winks.

[10.47] you snitch is alive, in the restrooms hiddlestons supposed to come in today

[10.48] evans no snitch in the restrooms, window’s open tho guessing it was the guy that slipped past me just now

[10.48] you guess so mackie u got anything from the bartender

[10.50] mackie that hiddlestons coming in that their deal is just renting of the venue from time to time

[10.50] you well just have to do the best of it then im sitting in his booth so if he comes hell notice

[10.51] evans sure thats a good idea??

[10.51] you would very much like to know why he put someone to spy on you evans snitch was hired to keep tabs, got annoyed he wasnt keeping tabs on me

[10.51] mackie dam i wanna know that too be careful

You look up and meet the gazes of your coworkers. Evans looks uncomfortable, worried almost, judging by the crease between his brows. Mackie gives you a look of understanding and a pair of thumbs up.

You down your drink, try to cover the hiss as pain sears down your throat, and make to sit down in Tom’s booth. On the way in, you knock over the reserved sign, making it fall to the floor. Now, it’ll look like you didn’t know.

[10.57] mackie Incoming

The front door opens slowly. Heads turn to look who comes through, and unlike when you arrived with Mackie and Evans, everyone’s eyes stay on the man who weaves his way through the crowd.

Tom stops by the bar, has a small chat with the bartender and turns his head to look your way. A smirk grazes his lips as your eyes lock, but he quickly turns back to the man he was talking to.

You swallow. You have to steady your beating heart, have to shove the thought of the night’s previous events to the back of your mind, and kill the deep swirling feeling in your gut at the sight of Tom in that blue fucking suit. God, if there was something Tom Hiddleston was made to do it’s wearing suits.

The blue color suits his very being. It’s tailored to fit him perfectly; long legs encased in blue fabric that shows off his bum, suit jacket that fits his shoulders and back in a way that has you swallow. You can see his broad shoulders and some of the tightness that drags at his muscled arms. What you can’t wait to see, is how well the shirt underneath fits him. You simply can’t wait for him to pull off the jacket.

Thankfully, you don’t have to wait very long. With two drinks in hand he makes his way up to where you sit. He doesn’t say anything as he places them on the table, nor does he say anything when he pulls up the reserved sign from where it lies on the floor. He places it back on the table, eyes you warily, and sides into the booth.

Long arms grasp for the drinks. He pulls them in and pushes one to you. “Can you drink, darling? You’re working, right?”

You take the glass and swirl the liquid around inside it. “I can, actually.” And you take a sip. “But I won’t drink a lot.”

Tom moves closer to you, knocking his thigh against yours. You take a deep breath at the touch, the only one you can return―Tom flirting with you whilst you work is no news, but it would be quite different if you did the same. “Have you been waiting long, darling?”

“No, I haven’t. I managed to preoccupy myself.”

“Oh, can I hear?”

You shake your head. “What good would you have of that?” you ask. When you get a shrug in return, you roll your eyes and take another sip of the whiskey. “I have a question for you, though.”

Tom cocks a brow.

“Why did you need someone to spy on Evans?”

Your heart beats fast as Tom moves even closer, lips coming up to ghost across your cheek. You can see that the two in the crowd of people keeping a close eye on you flinch, but you don’t make a gesture to show any discomfort. “Have you not noticed, love?”

You push him away by placing a hand on his chest. “Noticed what?” You try to pull your hand back but Tom places his over yours and keeps your touch on him. A small hint of the love he usually offers you shows through the blue of his eyes.

“The man likes you, darling. A little too much. Can’t have another man try anything with my woman.” Tom’s gaze flickers out to the crowd, and as you follow it, you see how it lands on Evans and how your coworker squirms. “Now, if only I could show him.”

“Tom,” you say, voice bordering on affectionate. His eyes flicker to you in surprise; he’s only ever been Hiddleston in public. “There’s nothing to worry about, and if you try anything, anything at all, you will have a gun to your head.”

Tom chuckles. “Are you threatening me?”

“You know where the gun is.” And the hand that travels up and under your skirt, grazing by the thigh holster, has you swallow. You take a deep breath as his hand travels a little further, and the only way to stop him is to grab his hand. “I didn’t say you could check.” You push at him a little, creating more distance between you two (even though you would like to sit close to him).

“I didn’t think I needed permission, love.” He smirks and you shake your head.

You smile innocently at him. “Usually you don’t.” You go to slide out of the booth. “Bye, Hiddleston.”

Tom grabs your arm and pulls you back to his chest. “Have you really made that big a dent in the case of the Blue Sweater?” he whispers in your ear. You writhe in his grasp, but a firm hand turns your head to him and his face draws closer to yours. “Tell me what I need to do to have the lead again, darling. I’ll do anything.”

And you can’t stop the sound of surprise that escapes you when Tom presses a chaste kiss to your lips. The surprise is so big you only stare wide-eyed at him, not able to kiss him back (and good is that seeing as you’re in public), and when he pulls back, you push away from him and shake your head.

“You’re an idiot,” you say (no teasing or play in your voice), and then you walk away. You rush out of the bar, feel Evans’s and Mackie’s eyes on you, and when you get out of the front door you lean against the wall. Your heart hammers in your chest. You’re panting, and you can feel the rush of adrenaline making its way through your body.

You may like to play with fire, letting him flirt and show affection in public, but you wouldn’t ever go this far. You wouldn’t ever think he’d even risk it.

“Are you okay?” comes a voice from next to you. Evans and Mackie have made it outside, and you push off the wall to start walking to the car.

“We’re not talking about it,” you say.

Neither of them make a move to say more, and you can hear them follow after you. Tom might be the worst person in history to be in a secret relationship with. Or maybe the best. You haven’t decided yet.

It’s no surprise to see the people surrounding your desk when you get to work. Your two usual pests sit at their own, and though not a part of the group waiting for you, they shoot you glances as you sit down.

You try not to glare at the group, but when they all just quietly stare at you, the anger bubbles. “What?” you ask.

A small murmur goes through them, until your impatient glare becomes too much and one voice squeaks out, “did Tom Hiddleston kiss you?”

He has more than once, you think.

You don’t reply, only giving them an unamused look in return. They quickly scatter, and you can hear the chatter that bubbles up amongst them.

Not only do you not have the patience for stupid pestering (and annoyance at Evans and Mackie for spreading the word), but your morning was the worst in a while. It’s almost become a usual for Tom to sleep over, whether because he falls asleep after sex or if he just wants to cuddle, but when you came home yesterday, there was no Tom.

And no Tom means no morning cuddles, or a goodbye kiss as you leave out the door. On top of that, he hasn’t texted either. No saying why he didn’t show. No explaining why he risked a kiss in public.

A text you did get in the morning, was a journalist asking for an interview. Especially interesting was the lack of respect for an ongoing investigation, and the bold way to ask whether or not you were secretly helping Tom not get caught (you want to know how they would even guess it. That’s a pretty bold assumption to make about the lead detective on a case).

Tired, you rest your elbow on the desk and lay your head in your hand. You massage your forehead slightly, and there’s no mistaking the groan that leaves your lips as your thoughts swirl.

A knock on your desk pulls you out of it. You look up to see Mackie leaning against it. “You okay?” he asks.

You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter. We gotta talk about what information we got, though. But I don’t trust… I don’t want to talk out here, so, briefing room in five minutes. I don’t know if Evans heard, but make sure he did.”

Mackie scrunches his nose slightly and presses his lips together.

“What’s wrong?”

“Briefing room’s occupied.”

You curse under your breath and shake your head. “We got a meeting room, that occupied?”

Mackie shakes his head. “Not that I know.”

“We’ll meet there.” And as he gives you a thumbs up, you get up from your desk and move to the captain’s office. With a knock and a mumbled ‘come in’ you walk into the room and close the door behind you.

Cheadle looks up at you. “I heard what happened.”

You nod. “Yeah, but there’s something else I’m here about.”

He quirks a brow. “Oh? Important?”

You pull out your phone, ignore the new message you’ve gotten and find the text from the journalist. You hand the captain your phone. “Got this this morning. I want to know how they got my number, what made them think I’m colluding with the guy I’m trying to catch, and what the hell made them believe I’d ever talk to a news source about an open investigation.”

“That is weird.” Captain Cheadle hands you back your phone (just in time, too, because a message chimes in from twh). “When you have time, come back in here. I know you’re gonna talk to the guys now, but I’d like for it to be soon. And check if they haven’t gotten the same one.”

“Yes, sir.” You sigh and walk out again. You head for the meeting room and on your way you pull open your text thread with Tom.

[08.18] twh darling we need to talk i think i have some information you’d like to have

[08.23] you gonna talk about smth else too or just your problem??

[08.23] twh im sorry, darling, i got caught up in work we can talk about both tell me when you have time and ill show up at your flat

[08.23] you tonight, 8

The reply goes by you as you open the door to the meeting room. Evans and Mackie already sit down, Evans with papers in front of him and Mackie with his phone out on the table. You frown, but sit down across from them.

“I don’t know who wants to start.” You look between the two men, and when neither say anything, you shrug. “Guess I’ll go then.” You take a deep breath. “Our snitch’s name is Aaron Taylor-Johnson, the man Hiddleston mentioned yesterday when we questioned him about the fire. He isn’t dead because he was in the bar. He says he was hired a few months ago to keep tabs on Evans, but he got sick of it because, according to him, you’re not the threat. On the other hand, I am, but he didn’t know he was talking to me.”

“Did you find out why Hiddleston got him to spy on Evans?” asks Mackie.

You shake your head. “Hiddleston didn’t answer that. Snitch didn’t know himself, but he said he tried to keep tabs on me, too, only he couldn’t. He didn’t have anything to go on, no information, no way to know what I look like. And I find that interesting. Why would Hiddleston go out of his way to make sure they couldn’t do anything to make me a culprit or anything?”

“Maybe because Hiddleston has the biggest crush on you?” asks Evans, and there’s no mistaking the hint of spite in his voice as he says so. “Or, he finds you that big enough a threat he can’t have his guys going around doing stuff to hinder you because you’re smart enough to be able to connect it to him?”

“I hope the last,” you mumble. “But there was definitely something he wasn’t telling me. He seemed to know more than he let on, but I couldn’t push like I usually do because then he’d know. I want to see if we can contact him again, because he knew we tried yesterday without luck.”

“We’ll try, but I don’t think we’re gonna get much either.” Evans nods, and all three of you let out sighs.

You motion for them to start talking instead. Evans slides you a piece of paper. Not much is on it, but the words are clear. You look up at him.

“There were some regulars there that have witnessed Hiddleston many times. The man I talked to said that.” Evans coughs. “‘He’s always alone, at least when he sits, but he leaves with men. Never has a girl around him unless they come up to him, hasn’t had one in a long time. Only once did he leave with one. She was pretty, looked rather intimidating, actually. Don’t think it lasted.’ The man also went on to ramble about how after that, Hiddleston hasn’t been seen with a girl. Well, before you.”

“So he has left with a girl once.” Mackie confirms. “Luke Evans said the same thing. A pretty little thing that edged in on the man unlike no one he’d seen before, and that surprisingly got to leave with him. He’s never seen the woman again, and he found that odd. He doesn’t believe Hiddleston’s got someone in his life, though.”

You bite your lower lip. “Well, that is something. Any descriptions?”

Both shake their heads.

“There is one thing I noted, though,” says Mackie. “If Hiddleston does have someone he likes, is with, whatever. He so openly flirts with you that that woman has got to be furious, and he probably wouldn’t have kissed you either. I think the wristband was sent to him, not from him.”

You nod. “I believe you’re right there.” You know he’s right, but that’s details you’re not sharing. “But I have something more interesting.” You fish your phone out of your pocket (ignore the new messages from Tom) and open up the one you got this morning.

“What’s going on?” asks Evans as you place your phone in front of them on the table. They read over the text and cast eyes up to you. Something in the look both send, they’ve seen something similar before.

“Got it this morning.” You snatch your phone back, seeing the almost pop-up about a new text and not risking who it’s from. “I need to know who believes I’m colluding with the enemy.”

Mackie nods as he opens up his own phone and slides it across to you. “We got the same text, though slightly altered. They’re asking if we know anything about you colluding with Hiddleston.”

[06.53] unkown Hi, I’m a reporter from New York Times. I was wondering if there would be released more information pertaining to the Hiddleston case, and what you know about Hiddleston and Detective Y/L/N’s relationship to the man. I heard last night that they kissed, and maybe the reason you haven’t caught him yet is something entirely else than him being good at what he does.

“Fucking hell,” you mutter. You slide Mackie’s phone back to him and let out a loud sigh.

Things are not looking very bright.

A/N: thats what i have. if you want to, reblog this with a continuation, but please dont steal any of this and act like it’s your own. i worked a lot on this when i still had motivaton but i wanted to at least share it even if i wont finish it, to which im deeply sorry

would always want to know what you guys think...

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #twh #thomas william hiddleston #reader insert #x reader #unfinished #tom hiddleston imagine #imagine

90 notes · View notes

lunatic-fandom-space · 3 years

Text

Comparing RWBY and YGO DM: The Handling and Evolution of Themes

Hey! Its been a hot minute since I last posted anything RWBY-related but Im laying in my bed right now and Im sick and bored so I guess we're doing this. Today I will do my best to analyze what I percieve to be the main themes and messages of both of these shows, or more specifically, how theyre handled narratively. Im mostly focusing on that part because, while these series do have similar themes and messaging, they are still a few things in which they are wildly different. And with that, lets start with this essay-post-thing!

1. Theres something we need to adress first

Okay so, before we can really talk about this, theres something I feel the need to clarify here: Neither of these stories was "planned from the beginning".

Now, I dont think a story being planned from the beginning or not nesscessarily makes the story any better or worse by default, however, it is still important to acknowledge because the way the story is planned is going to affect every facet of it. Things are not going to be foreshadowed properly, things are gonna be set up only for nothing to come of it, the story might drastically change directions, characters might act differently, etc, etc.

And, this is bit off-topic but, it's much better to just admit that the story was not planned than trying to pretend that it was. Like, there are a lot of reasons why I tend to be so forgiving towards YGO even though its not very good, but one of them is definitely the fact that, as far as Im aware atleast, the guy who wrote it isnt pretending to have had this big master plan all along and neither is the fandom. With RWBY on the other hand... yeaaaah, its kinda the opposite. From what Ive seen of RWBYs fandom, there seems to be this pretty popular narrative that everything was planned even though it clearly wasnt. Thats pretty bad and honestly lowers my opinion of the writers so much more than if they would just admit to not having a proper plan.

Like, I initially consumed YGO like this: Yu-Gi-Oh Duel Monsters, Yu-Gi-Oh (aka Season 0), like, a quarter of the Yu-Gi-Oh manga (I still havent finished it)

In all three of these we have the character of Yami Yuugi, or just Yami. Broadly speaking, he is an ancient egyptian gamer spirit who lives in a magical puzzle that has not been solved for 3000 years until this highschooler named Yuugi Mutou comes along and solves it, thus setting him free and allowing him to possess Yuugi and have access to the vague magical powers of the puzzle.

In Duel Monsters he's perfectly fine most of time, morally speaking. There is an instance of him almost murdering a guy and its a bit unclear what exactly happens to those he mindcrushes but overall he's very much a pretty good guy. In Season 0 most of what he does is set up these games for bad people, where they will go insane no matter what they do. From how I understand this whole Shadow Game, Penalty Game stuff, if you lose a Shadow Game, you get violent and intense hallucinations and you will always cuz yknow, gamer spirit. But if you try to cheat, which most of the bad people do in this show, you get violent and intense hallucinations as a punishment.

Since the two anime are generally considered two different continuities, its perfectly fine that Yamis characterization is wildly different in both of them. But in the manga both of these characterizations appear, basically one after the other with no real arc or consequences, for that matter. Why is that? Simply put, someone thought it was a good idea to try to turn an episodic, very slice of life-y light-horror manga into a more traditional, more plot-driven battle shounen. From what Ive heard, it was apparently largely because of network interference or something, but the point is, it changed directions incredibly drastically with little planning and everyone knows this and I can understand that for the most part.

In RWBY we have the character of Blake Belladonna, who, in the first 3 volumes/seasons atleast, was this aloof, more toned down loner-type character with a pretty strong sense of justice. She's an in-universe marginilized racial minority and she clearly cares about racial injustice. The way its initially framed makes it seem like she had a very hard life and no stable support system, which is what eventually pushed her to join a Civil Rights group/Terrorist organization (good god, the Faunus subplot is so awful, I could write a whole essay about it but Im already de-railing rn so I'll just save that for later).

Then, in volumes 4-5 it turns out her father is actually like, the mayor or chief of this island-place called Menagerie and she grew up in this big mansion with multiple guards/servants. Oh and also, apparently "space is a commodity" on there, so theres that. She still retains large parts of her personality but she's kinda like, worse somehow I think. I cant really describe it in a meaningful way but I hope you get what Im saying anyway. Then in Volume 6 she confronted her emotional abuser Adam (sorry for not mentioning him sooner but yeah, he was like, her abusive boyfriend, which is something that a lot of people disagree with but I wont really say anything about it either way because I dont really feel any specific way) with her friend, Yang, and ended up killing him.

After all that, she pretty much lost the rest of her personality, as well as her arc about all the Faunus stuff. She just kinda became the meek, generically nice, recovering abuse victim. Why? Well, the actual reason is that they didnt plan out shit and are just kinda flying by the seat of their oversized clown-pants and if they and the fandom just admitted it, I would have less of an issue. I still wouldnt be as forgiving towards RWBY as I am towards YGO because the crux of the issue, for me, is just that I dont particulary like RWBY but also like. Do you really expect me to take MKEK seriously as writers after admitting to not have a timeline because iT wOuLd CaUsE pLoThOlEs?

However, since they want us to believe that everything was planned out from the beginning, the explaination would be.... Idk, they deliberately butchered one of their main characters?? Because.. they hate her?? Maybe????

So yeah, that was quite a detour however, I would like you to keep this mind going forward.

2. Themes of the Early Series'

First, what do mean by 'Early Series' for both of these shows respectively? Well, for YGO that would have to be Season 0 or if youre reading the manga, everything pre-Duelist Kingdom. Basically, the part of the series thats a episodic, very slice of life-y light-horror series.

For RWBY that would be the first three Volumes, also known as the Poser-Era. Back then it was just kinda an action series that took place at Anime Warrior Academy (also known as Beacon) with some pretty bare minimum worldbuilding, character-driven plots and developments but now its more of an epic high-fantasy story with more of an emphasis on plot as opposed to just action.

The themes and messages in Early YGO are kinda vague, very confusing to me and if you were to follow any of it literally that would be pretty bad. For now Im just gonna say the main themes are Friendship and Identity and mostly focus on the Identity aspect.

Now, it took me a little while to figure out RWBYs deal but I think the main themes for Volumes 1-3 are also Friendship and Heroism. Once again, I'll mostly focus on Heroism and touch on Friendship more briefly later.

I dont have much more to add to YGOs themes right now, so I'll briefly go over Heroism in RWBY.

In RWBYs setting there are these man-eating monsters called Grimm that have basically infected the planet. In order to deal with that, they have people called huntsmen and huntresses that kill them and protect people. Theyre trained at special academies like Beacon and go on missions there and stuff like that. Our four main characters, Ruby, Weiss, Blake and Yang, are training to become huntresses and one day they go on this mission to clean up a grimm infested city block with one of their teachers. Obviously, that takes a long time so they have to camp out in one of the empty houses. Weiss, Blake and Yang cant sleep because theyve been thinking about this question that their teacher asked them when they were fighting grimm: "Why do you want to become a huntress?"

They have a heart to heart and we find out about their motivations; Weiss wants to bring honour back to her family, Blake want to distance herself from the White Fang (that terrorist organization I mentioned earlier) and as an extension from Adam, Yang wants to have a life of adventure. They also talk about why Ruby wants to be a huntress and it turns out that she judt wants to help people. Unlike the others, she has no motivation besides that. We're meant to listen to that and look at her as a sort-of personification of Heroism: kind, but not naive, strong and most of all, selfless. The others on her team are not portayed as bad for not being like Ruby by any means but we are clearly meant to admire her the most out of all of them.

Okay, now comes the part Ive been looking forward to the most:

3. How did these themes evolve in the Modern Series'?

Alright, before we can really delve into the way they evolved in YGO I'll have to give you a brief summary of the character progression. At the start of DM, during the Duelist Kingdom arc, Yami Yuugi is just that; A darker Yuugi. Hes more confident, bolder, his voice is deeper, hes somehow taller, more ruthless, all that good stuff. Notably, he doesnt actually seem more skilled than Yuugi even at the start of this story, but he's still dependent on Yami. Yami on the other hand, has no identity of his own or even hints at one at this point. He's just The Other Yuugi.

Then during the Battle City arc, they find out that Yami was actually a pharao prior to being sealed in the puzzle, he just didnt know because of amnesia, I guess. So now they need to find out his real name and then send him to the afterlife because hes meant to be dead, but not before saving the world from being swallowed by darkness, which is also a thing they have to do now.

Then we finally get to the Memory World arc, where Yami, Yuugi and the rest of the gang astralproject to ancient egypt via puzzle magic. Yami is trying to figure out what the hell is going on and who all these familiar people are, while Yuugi & Co are trying their best to help him. Then some weird shit happens and it turns out that all of that is not just Yamis sealed away memories, but also a giant D&D Shadow Game that will destroy the world if Yami loses. So now theres Pharao!Yami who is still clueless on the metaphorical and literal playing field and Player!Yami, who is kinda controlling himself now? I guess?? Yamis opponent, The Spirit of The Ring, has something similar to that going on where hes both controlling and properly participating in the game. So Player!Yami is now fighting against Player!TSoTR, Pharao!Yami is now fighting against Thief King Bakura (who is like, the human, ancient egyptian version of the Ring Spirit) and Yuugi is now fighting against Yami Bakura (who is like, the human, modern japanese version of the Ring Spirit). Yuugi gets Yamis real name, he and the gang go over to Pharao!Yami and tell him his name, meanwhile Player!Yami is also somehow helping as well and they defeat the Ring Spirit, thus saving the world. Then they travel to modern Egypt, the Ceremonial Duel happens and Yuugi wins, sending Yami to the Afterlife where he can finally rest and that was the series!

I originally wanted to recount the stuff that was going on with the Ring Spirit and his host as well because they parallel eachother, but this summary is already far too long and I think youll get the point without me needing to explain any more.

My point here is, that the story went from being vaguely about Identity, maybe? to being very clearly about Self-Discovery and Learning to Be Independent. I think this is a very good way to evolve the messaging of your story. How does RWBY track on that?

Well, uh... its not great. I will acknowledge that they have tried to introduce new themes and ideas since, even though I wont really be talking about them in this post. But yeah, the whole Heroism thing really regressed.

Like, I didnt explicitly say it when I was explaining grimm earlier, but theyre not going away. The grimm have always been there and people who sign up to become huntsmen and huntresses are effectively signing up for a job that will never truly be done, no matter what they do. Characters like Ruby and even more minor ones like Phyrrah have shown us that that doesnt matter when youre a hero. No life isnt worth saving, no grimm isnt worth killing, no criminal isnt worth arresting. Then, in volume 6 they find out about Salem. Salem is the Big Bad of the show, shes immortal, controls the grimm and is supposed to be very powerful.

What do our heroes do? They give up. Sike! They were just mindcontrolled by monsters or some shit, of course they didnt give up their mission (which is to bring an Important Macguffin to a city called Atlas, sorry I didnt mention it)!

But then they arrive in Atlas (which is llike, a city thats floating over another city called Mantle) and yknow, they do some plot stuff thats not really important right now until the city gets invaded by Salem and this big grimm army she has.

What do our heroes do? Well, Ruby, Weiss, Blake and some side characters are chilling, drinking tea in a mansion and Yang and the B Team were actually trying to do something, but even those efforts seem incredibly minimal.

Oh wait, I also forgot to mention that Ironwood (a fairly minor, vaguely antagonistic character up until now) wanted to lift Atlas even higher to save Atleasian civilians from danger while leaving Mantle vulnerable to Salems invasion.

What would be the most heroic thing to do?

A) Let Ironwood lift Atlas, get as much support as they can down to Mantle and save as many Mantle civilians as they can from the invasion

B) Prevent Ironwood from lifting Atlas but then split up in order to protect both Atlas and Mantle civilians

C) Prevent Ironwood from lifting Atlas and then dont do anything else

Congrats! If you choose C, you think exactly like the writers!

And I just

This is so mindboggling to me, I feel like I shouldnt even have explain how this is bad. And like, it wouldve been so easy to actually make them seem herokc through their actions, to make it seem like they did try but no.

I have never seen a central theme be this botched, how in the world did they do that? Why did they think it was a good idea for Ruby "The Embodiment of Heroism" Rose to sit in a mansion doing nothing, no planning, no organizing just ..... God, how are they this bad? Like, this doesnt even have anything to do with it being planned in any way, this is just straight up incompetence

4. Very briefly touching on friendship

The friendship is awful and its not solely because they all have the same opinions. They barely interact with eachother outside their designated pairs which leads to it all feeling incredibly hollow. Theyre also practically indistingushable from one another now, which is a shame because it wasnt always like that. Like, I dont think the characters were that well-developed in earlier volumes but they were very well-characterized. But now we've gotten to a point where you can literally copy and paste one characters dialogue onto another and literally nothing changes, it really sucks.

5. Some closing words

Damn, this took way longer than I thought it would and now Im pretty exhausted. I have no idea how yall always write these but props to you! I feel like this ended up a bit rambly but overall, Im pretty proud.

Please let me know what you think of the points I brought up! Id also really appreciate some tips on how to get better at these longer posts because I am planning on writing more in the future (not the near future, probably but yknow).

Thats all I have to say for now, thanks for reading!

#rwde #rwby critism #anti mkek #yu gi oh #ygo duel monsters #yu gi oh analasis

2 notes · View notes

professor-hiddles · 6 years

Text

One and Only pt.2

pairing: peter parker x reader

word count: 3.9k

warnings: super minor mentions of death, post-breakup brooding & again, cute lil peter

pt.1

Your hospital visit was nothing out of the ordinary, the E.R. staff knew you by name at this point. After playing sports your whole life, breaking bones here and there, you’re bound to end up in a hospital at one point or another. The last time you were there, it was a fractured wrist from falling during soccer practice. Your doctor told you to take it easy, but ‘easy’ wasn’t in your vocabulary.

Your doctor, Dr. Collins, decided it would be best if you stayed overnight, just so they could watch for any potential internal bleeding or other complications. This sounded absolutely ridiculous to you, but understandable to your father.

“Honey, its only one night. I’m sure you’ll survive. Anyway, I gotta go, I have to pick up your brother before work. I’m working the night shift today, but call if you need anything, I love you,” your dad said, kissing you on the forehead and walking out. Now, it was just you and your thoughts left in the room.

[P.P.] Hey, Y/N, how’s the hospital?

You smiled at the text, happy that someone actually cared enough to text you.

[Y/N] eh, could have been worse, but nothing I haven’t seen before lol the food still sucks, and my dad left so i’m a little lonely at the moment

[P.P.] What if I told u I was on my way there? I might bring food too if ur nice lol

[Y/N] PLEASE DO I’LL LOVE U FOREVER PETER

Just as you put your phone down, there was a soft knock on your door. Your head snapped up, to find Peter standing there, pizza box and teddy bear in hand. A wide smile formed on your face, and you beckoned for him to come in.

“Peter! You brought food!” You threw an arm around him, careful not to further agitate your already hurting ribcage.

He chuckled, opening the box and handing you a slice. “Thought you might want some company. I was actually on my way up when I texted you, and then I saw the gift shop, and this little guy was just calling my name,” he said, handing you the bear.

“Now I wont be lonely! Also, I don’t think this counts as our date, so I’d be more than willing to go out with you as soon as I’m out of here,” you said, smile still planted on your face.

He smiled, knowing that the both of you subconsciously counted this as a date, but neither cared to admit it. He grabbed your hand, squeezing it a bit.

“That would be awesome, Y/N. So maybe we should start brainstorming? Like ideas for the date, you know?” He almost looked nervous, though you doubted that this was his first actual date. You nodded your head, pulling a piece of paper from your backpack that your dad left. ‘Do some homework, Y/N. Keep your mind on track.’

Even in the hospital you couldn’t catch a break.

“Alright, so, what do you want to do? Movies, dinner, hang out; what style of date do you fancy, Mr. Parker?” You joked, smiling. The gears were turning in his head, trying to think of places he liked.

“Okay, well there is this one spot, right in the middle of Central Park, there’s a huge-ass rock that I like to lay on and look at the stars, but I get it if its too far for you. I know you sometimes have to watch your brother, so if you want to stay closer to home, I’m sure I could think of somewh—“ You put a hand over his mouth to stop his rambling.

“Peter, that sounds perfect. It really doesn’t matter if its a kind of far, I can always get my neighbor to watch my brother. If it’s somewhere you recommend, I’m sure I’ll love it. Now, when do you want to go?” You chewed on the end of the pen, heart fluttering at the thought of actually going on a date with him.

“How’s Friday? I could swing by around 7? You know, if you feel good enough, with your cracked rib and all.” He chuckled a little under his breath, at the small spider-man pun he made. You didn’t seem to catch it, which was a small relief for him.

You nodded, setting the date in your calendar. “You’ve got yourself a date, now hopefully I can convince my dad to let me go. He’s too protective sometimes, you know?” Peter laughed, thinking of his Aunt May, and how protective she was. His phone then buzzed with an important message from Tony Stark, signaling it was time for him to leave.

“Yeah, I completely understand. Speaking of protective family, I gotta get going. My Aunt May would kill me if she knew I wasn’t at decathlon practice right now,” he said, watching for your reaction. Your face did fall a bit, but you understood why he had to go.

“Don’t miss me too much, Parker. Text me when you get home though, so I know you’re safe, ok?” He nodded his head, giving you a quick hug and a kiss on the head before making his way out.

Once you were alone, you looked at the small bear that he bought for you. You noticed it was dressed like Spider-man, which made you laugh a bit.

“Guess its just me and you now, Spidey. Hope you like ‘How I met Your Mother,’ ‘cause thats what I’m putting on.” Your hand reached for the remote, and you settled into the hospital bed, with a slice of pizza and the bear.

The next morning, you were woken up to doctors and nurses clamoring around your room. You rubbed your eyes, confused as to what was going on. Your father was there, arguing with the doctor, who apparently wanted to keep you there for another night.

“Oh, good, you’re awake. How do you feel? Any pain? Nausea? Vomiting?” The doctor was moving you around, getting your heartbeat, checking the wounded area, looking very frazzled.

“No, I feel absolutely fine. Great, in fact. Why is everyone so antsy? Did something happen while I was sleeping?” You were incredibly confused, no one wanted to tell you anything.

“Sweetpea, this might sound strange, but the doctors told me that somehow, your rib healed itself while you were sleeping. Something that should have taken at least a few weeks to heal, miraculously happened overnight. They want to keep you for further observation, but I don’t want you to be an experiment,” your father had a comforting hand on your shoulder, but your mind was struggling to grasp what had just been told to you.

Your first instinct was to poke the rib, for whatever reason. No pain. Your eyebrows furrowed, more puzzled than ever. How is this possible?

“Your daughter is a medical mystery to us, right now, Mr. Y/L/N. With your permission, we would like to take a blood sample, to see if theres maybe something strange going on within her,” the doctor said to your father, who had a nervous hand running through his hair.

“No. Absolutely not. If she’s healed, then I’m taking her home. She has school, after all,” he said, gathering your things. Dr. Collins was trying to get him to stop for a moment, but your father wasn’t having it.

“Sir, I really don’t think thats the best thing to do right now. If we can figure out what exactly is going on, we could potentially help so many people,” the doctor said, trying to convince him. Your father still refused, he didn’t want them poking and prodding at you, and since you were still a minor, you didn’t have much of a say.

“Like I said, absolutely not. If she want’s to do this when she’s eighteen, thats going to be her decision. But while she’s under my protection, I’m going to have to say no,” He signed the discharge papers, and you were out.

It was a bit irrational, but you knew why your father said no. Your mother died in the same hospital three years ago, after a gunshot to the abdomen. She had lost too much blood, and the doctors couldn’t do anything. Your father blamed the doctors and the hospital, so he was reluctant to even take you for minor injuries.

You decided not to break the awkward silence in the car, so instead you took out your phone and texted Peter.

[Y/N] guess whatttttt

[P.P.] what????

[Y/N] i got discharged!! i still have to go to school though :((

[P.P.] its only 7:30am how are you out so soon?? i was sure they would keep you at least until noon

[P.P.] also yikes @ the school thing

[Y/N] apparently my bones healed overnight its super weird

[Y/N] OMG WAIT AM I A SUPERHERO

[Y/N] SHIT I COULD BE LIKE SPIDERGIRL OR SOMETHING

[Y/N] brb trying to shoot webs rn

[Y/N] catch me as the next member of the avengers bb

[P.P.] im sure spiderman would love to have you as his sidekick

[Y/N] LISTEN BUDDY I AM NOT A SIDEKICK

[Y/N] if either one of us had to be a sidekick its you peter parkour

[P.P.] keep telling yourself that lol

[P.P.] wait did you just call me parkour

[Y/N] yep i did meanie

You slipped your phone into your pocket chuckling when your dad pulled up in front of your house.

“Go take a quick shower and change your clothes, Y/N. I gotta have you at school for third period,” he said, chuckling at your groan.

“Do I have to go? Its not like anyone would miss me, dad,” you said, giving your best puppy dog eyes. He almost fell for it, but shook his head at the last second, telling you that you had to go.

You trudged into the house, dreading going to school. Another groan escaped your lips as you realized that you had practice today, and since your rib was healed, you couldn’t use that as an excuse. You took your sweet time getting ready, much to your fathers chagrin. You were finally dressed and ready to go an hour later, your dad shaking his head, because it shouldn’t take that long for someone to shower and put on a hoodie with sweats.

You rode the whole car ride with your hood up, headphones in. When your dad finally pulled up in front of the school, you left the car reluctantly, backpack hanging off one shoulder.

Your hood was still up, and you sat down in third period physics with a sigh. Formulas littered the board, a barely audible groan escaped, as Peter looked over from the seat next you, chuckling. Your teacher was going on about angular velocity at the moment, but everything went in one ear and out the other.

“You look like hell, spider-girl,” he said, trying to contain a laugh. You shot a glare his way, tightening your hood around your face. You slumped further down in your chair, wishing you were invisible, or sleeping.

“I feel like it too, parkour. I’d rather be back at the hospital being tested, dude. Anything would be better than physics right now,” you said, pouting and turning back to the notes on the board.

The rest of the day went by rather slowly, until you got to practice. You jogged onto the field, greeting the rest of your team and your coach. She told you to take it easy, but you had no intention of actually listening.

The drill that was currently going on was weaving, your favorite. The ball had started at you, and was going smoothly until the two girls with you decided only to pass to each other. This frustrated you, as you knew they just wanted to pity you for being hurt the day prior.

You let out an angry groan, charging after the ball even though it wasn’t your turn. If they don’t want to play fair, we won’t.

You dribbled the ball down the field, people were yelling at you, but you drowned it out. Your team’s goalie looked more than ready to block your shot, but all it took was a fake left and shot right to score on her.

Adrenaline pumped through you as you smiled, walking back up the field. You heard someone cheering for you on the sidelines, surprised to see Peter in the stands. Your smile grew wider, and you waved to him, acknowledging his cheering.

You could have sworn you heard him yell ‘thats my girl’ but you just shook it off, deducing that your ears were playing tricks on you.

“Y/L/N, what the hell was that? You just screwed up that whole drill! Not cool, Y/N,” one of the girls, Casey Jones, said, looking aggravated. You scoffed, ready to fight back, but your coach spoke up for you.

“No, she did exactly what I would have done. You two weren’t passing to her. This drill is about team work, not exclusion. So, if I’m not mistaken, Casey, you and Adriana are the ones who are ‘not cool’. You two can sit on the sidelines and watch until you figure out how to work as a team,” your coach said, earning glares from the two girls as they walked to the side, but ultimately they stopped talking.

“Thanks, coach,” you said, giving her a small, grateful smile. She clapped you on the back, turning away.

“Its no big deal, really. I’m proud of you for taking charge in that drill, you executed that shot perfectly, Y/N, and apparently I’m not the only one who thinks so,” she said, nodding her head toward Peter.

“Oh, we’re not together, coach. Its..complicated,” you said, before taking a sip of your water.

“I saw him with you at the nurse’s office the other day, you two looked pretty cozy. But, if you say its nothing, then I guess I have to believe it. All I’m gonna say is that you could have fooled me,” and with that, your coach turned and walked back onto the field, leaving you standing there, smiling like an idiot.

You looked back over, looking to see if he was still there. He wasn’t in the stands anymore, he was talking to Liz Toomes. Of course, I should have known. Every negative possibility ran through your head in that moment.

You jogged off the field, trying to figure out why Liz was the center of his attention. He had been so flirty with you, even going to the lengths of setting up a date, and you couldn’t help but wonder if his intentions with you were simply platonic. You knew he had a ‘crush’ on Liz last year, he was always staring at her, he even took her to homecoming! It hurt you, you had really thought that he was over her.

Granted, you did have a boyfriend last year, that was the only reason for why Peter went after Liz. Of course, you didn’t know that. He was seeking comfort, since you couldn’t be his at the time.

Your boyfriend had broken up with you over the summer, and it made you sad to say the least. The two of you were in love, or so you thought. He was cheating on you with a girl on your team, forcing you to question the integrity of the whole relationship.

Even when he broke up with you, it was done maliciously, he never wanted you to date anyone else. He decided that it would be best to break your spirit, not just your heart. In turn, you moped around for all of August, barely wanting to go outside.

You barely even got out of bed. Your family had no idea what to do, your brother would try to comfort you, by bringing in little lego creations. Your father bought endless pints of ice cream, it was a wonder how you didn’t weigh 300 pounds by the end of summer. He had never been on the receiving end of a breakup, he had no idea how to get you through it.

He decided it might help to call his old college friend, May Parker. Unfortunately, she couldn’t make it, so she sent Peter instead, knowing that the two of you went to school together (and because he had a crush on you, but he didn’t know that she knew).

Of course, Peter was over the moon that he got to see you, but also heartbroken at the sight of your sadness. He broke things off with Liz that same week, but the two were still friends. He did everything that he could to make you feel better, he even sat through your favorite Disney movies with you.

It was perfect, but only lasted for a few days. You both had obligations, Peter with his Stark Internship, and you with your volunteer work. The two of you didn’t see each other again until school, and that brings us to the current time.

After seeing Peter with Liz, you went to the locker room, muttering under your breath. You slammed your locker closed, the girls around you jumping at the sudden noise. You whispered a quick ‘sorry,’ and left the room. You moved through the halls of your school quickly, hood up trying not to draw any attention to yourself.

It wasn’t unlike you to be seen in the library, its where you went to cool off. You settled into a chair in the back, cracking open the first book you pulled off the shelf, which happened to be 'Norse Myths and Gods: A History.’

You loved reading about mythology and gods from all cultures, it fascinated you to every extent of the word. You opened the book to see weapons and tools, your eyes falling on one, called the Megingjörð. Apparently, it was a belt worn by Thor, God of Thunder, said to double his strengths, but current whereabouts are unknown, if it was even real.

You were shaken out of your concentration when a body plopped down in front of you, causing you to jump a bit. You looked up, eyes falling on the one person you didn’t want to see.

“Norse Gods, huh? You know Tony Stark’s met Thor? Apparently he’s a super cool dude, super buff, too,” Peter said, flipping through the book. You pulled the book out of his hands, eyes focusing back on the page.

Without looking up, you replied flatly, “Thats nice, Peter.”

You saw his face drop from your peripheral vision, and he looked down at his hands.

“Did I do something? Y/N, whats going on?” He asked, barely a whisper. Your heart nearly broke at the sight, he looked genuinely upset.

“No, nothing. Its my fault for thinking that someone would actually want to be with me. But I guess I don’t really deserve to be happy,” you said, trying to focus on the book instead of looking at him. He grabbed your hand, desperately trying to figure out why you would say such a thing.

“Y/N, why would you think that? Did someone say something to you? ‘Cause if they did I’ll beat them up, I swear,” He said, puffing his chest outward, you caught your lips turning upward.

“No one had to say anything, Peter. I saw you talking to Liz earlier, so if you want, you can go talk to her and let me wallow in my pity party,” you took your hand from his, putting your attention back on the page of the book.

He looked around, trying to get a sense of what was going on, and then it clicked. “Y/N, can you look at me please? Are you jealous of Liz?” he said, pushing the book down with a finger.

You huffed, closing the book and looking dead at him. “What do you think?”

“I think that you have absolutely no reason to be jealous. She’s in my calculus class, and needed the notes from todays lesson. And if we’re really talking about deserving things right now, I honestly think you deserve the world. Come on, I have something to show you,” He grabbed your hand, pulling you up. You barely had time to grab your bag off the floor, he was pulling you to the door.

He took you in front of a set of lockers, nothing particularly out of the ordinary. “Okay, you have to promise not to tell anyone about what I’m about to show you. I need you to swear, Y/N,” he was looking you in the eye, holding a pinky out for you to swear on.

You grabbed his pinky with yours, rolling your eyes. “Alright, so whats so special about this set of lockers?”

A grin crossed his features, as he looked from you to the lockers. He bent down, and with seemingly no effort at all, he picked up the set of lockers, pulling out a small bottle.

“Dude, what the hell?! How did you just pick up those lockers? They have to weigh like a thousand pounds!”

He didn’t answer the question, instead just tossing you the bottle of a very sticky substance. “Uh, Peter, I know we’re close and all, but I don’t know if we’re this close.”

Peter looked confused for a moment, before disgust and amusement both appeared on his face at the same time. “Ugh, Y/N, thats so gross. Why would I keep that in a bottle?”

You shrugged, looking between the bottle and the boy in front of you. “So what is it?”

“This, is my Stark Internship. This stuff is the webbing that Spider-man uses. I made it myself,” he said, looking awfully proud of his creation.

“Wait, theres no way. Why would Tony Stark ask a sixteen year old to make Spider-man’s web fluid?” you asked, placing one hand on your hip and looking closely at the bottle.

“It’s a story for another day. Look, I can prove to you that this is the web fluid. Do you trust me?” he said, holding out a hand, which you reluctantly took.

“I guess so, why? How do you plan on proving it?” he again neglected to answer the question, taking the bottle from your hand and pulling you away from the school. You walked with him until the two of you reached an alleyway, your skepticism only growing.

He placed his bag down on the floor, reaching into it. He dug around for a moment, before seemingly landing on what he was looking for. He pulled out a small contraption, it looked like a high tech bracelet of some sort.

“You pulled me all the way out here for a damn bracelet?” you asked, growing frustrated with the boy for the lack of answers you were receiving.

“Just watch, its worth it, I promise.” He said, pulling the gadget onto his wrist. He stepped away from you, aiming his hand at a fire escape that was around three stories high.

“Are you sure this isn’t dangerous, Peter? What if you fall?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. He shot you a smile, before shooting his web at the fire escape. It brought him up effortlessly, and he landed with such grace that it seemed like he’d done this a million times over.

You stood there, mouth agape, as the realization dawned on you.

Holy shit, Peter Parker is Spider-man.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker #spiderman #avengers #spiderman homecoming #imagine #fanfic #tom holland #mcu #marvel

2 notes · View notes