#snipings a bad job mate.

[thatonesimp-e]

snoipah...

let's be real he looks terrible for being 27

[shockereel]

Sniping's not a good job, mate. Not in these conditions. #FixTF2

God, I want this to work out so fucking bad I'm literally insane, stay optimistic mates.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: have a great friday, dudes.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Maris Street. You rarely go that way. It’s near the core of the town, closer to the west end where green hedges and white picket fences cordon off the suburban elite from the commoners like you. It suits him, doesn’t it? You assume this is what he’s used to. 

The venom roils in your gut as you approach Oxford Drive. You stop before the sleek grey exterior. The black trims and large golden moniker in all caps add to the extravagant effect. Flowers boxes stand outside the windows that glow amber with rich ambience from within. The nicest place you ever went was the Korean Barbecue your dorm mate dragged you to; this is well beyond that. 

You take a breath and look down at yourself. You’re still wearing the black jeans and plain tee you sport for your job. Former job. Your beat-up sneakers perfectly match your thrifted aesthetic and the purse strap twisted around your hand and wrist frays as if to assure everyone that you don’t belong. 

You go to the front door and pull it open. You step inside to the low drone of stringy music and the subtle clink of glasses amid the low murmur of voices. You chew your lip as you approach the tall round desk where the hostess stands over the open reservation book, like some mystical keeper of scrolls. How very Skyrim of her. 

She gives you a look, one you expect. You sniff and cross your arms, the strap of your purse further straining your circulation. You exhale and peek over at the dining room. 

“Hi, I um...” your cheeks pinch as you find it difficult to speak. “I’m meeting someone.” 

“You are?" Her skepticism drips from her voice, “are you certain they’re... here?” 

“Yeah. I don’t know if he made a reservation or whatever. Obviously, I’m not a regular,” you snipe back. You’re too exasperated to hold back. You don’t need her judging you too. “Older, beard, uh, tall... Andy Barber. Is he in the book?” 

She flutters her pretty lashes and looks down. You watch her. She’s a few years older than you. Tall, balayaged hair, slender, perfectly bowed lips. What about her? Or someone like her? Why wouldn’t he want that instead? Why is he bothering you? 

“Barber,” she nods, “yes, he’s here.” 

She seems surprised by that. She steps out from behind the desk and tells you to follow. You obey. You have to. This is all just pulling teeth. He has you toothless already. 

You keep your head down as you trail behind her. You only look up as you sense a figure on the other side of her. Andy stands as you approach and you nearly choke. You want so bad to just turn around and run away. 

A line deepens in his forehead and disappears. He smiles as the hostess waves you forward. He comes around to pull out the other chair before you can. You retract your arm and barely withhold your frustration. Can’t he understand you want nothing from him? 

You sit stiff and fix your bag in your lap, slowly unwinding the strap from your wrist. The hostess promises a server will be with you soon and struts away. You stare at the table cloth and as Andy sits, darkening the edge of your vision, you turn to glare at the far wall. 

You feel even more demeaned sitting there in your jeans in tea among the crystal and tall-stemmed lilies. The tinkle of the soft woodwind music makes your head buzz yet the smell of the food teases your empty stomach. Your eyes drift to a group of older women, laughing over wine, a symbol of what you’ll never be. Happy. Free. 

“Thanks for meeting me. I guess you’ve never been here before,” Andy begins. 

You shake your head and flick your eyes to the ceiling. You grit down on his words. Why is he acting like this is normal? 

“Nice place, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” you snap and look at him directly, nearly growling in his face, “very nice. Upscale. Well above me.” 

You cross your arms and sit back, your purse strap still loosely clinging to your wrist. His chest rises and he exhales through his nose. He leans forward and his cheek ticks. 

“I brought you here for dinner, so we could talk, get to know each other--” 

“That’s not what I’m here for,” you insist, almost teary-eyed from your rage. You don’t like being angry. You’ve never been very good at and more times, you end up blubbering. “Kara, my friend--” 

He tilts his chin up and sets his gaze firmly on you, “we’ll get to that.” 

“No, now,” you hiss. 

He huffs through his nose. He looks around, silently chewing his agitation. He sits up and replaces that manufactured smile as a server approaches. 

“Good evening, can I get you started with drinks?” He asks, his dark shirt finely pressed and buttoned to the very top. 

“No thank--” you begin. 

“We’ll take a bottle of cabernet,” Andy interjects, “for the table. Oh, and could we get some fresh bread. This has been sitting out.” 

The server acquiesces and takes the basket as Andy hands over the wine menu. You barely keep from rolling your eyes. You’re not here to eat and drink and be merry. Kara is quite possibly behind bars. 

You glare at him and wait. The server leaves as you keep your arms folded, fingers clamped tightly. He looks at you as if there’s nothing wrong. As if this is all normal. 

“I want to know what’s going to happen to Kara. You said you can help--” 

“I can,” he says casually, “so let’s have a nice dinner and then I’ll do just that.” 

“But she’s--” 

“They’ll have her in holding, question her, then they’ll have to figure out charges, yada, yada,” he explains, “don’t worry, I’ll give them a call after, tell them my client is invoking her right to an attorney.” 

Your chest thumps and your ears ring. He’s so confident. He already knows you can’t say no. Not to him or this dinner. You have to sit there and celebrate his victory that came with your defeat. It’s not right. It’s... it’s... deranged. 

“Why?” You croak. 

“Why?” He shakes his head. 

“Why are you doing this? Why me? Why not someone... someone you can relate to? Someone your age?” 

“Why you? You’re perfect, sweetheart. Perfect for me,” he coos, “come on, we get along. We did. I know I messed things up but it can’t change that we had fun. We did, didn’t we?” 

You swallow and shrug. Those nights you stayed up and mined or raced or whatever, they were fun, they were nights you look forward to. But every single one was a lie. 

“Sure, but... what if I’d lied to you? What if I wasn’t me? What if I was some guy in a basement--” 

“You weren’t.” 

“But what if--” 

“I know you weren’t.” 

“How could you know--” 

“I just did. You’re so genuine, so... kind, that can’t be fake,” he insists. 

You sink down, slumping your shoulders, and look away. What can you do? You’re exactly where you never wanted to be. With less options. With none. 

“What do you want from me?” Your dry mouth crackles around your words. 

He’s quiet as the server returns. He sits back and you lift your chin as you watch the server uncork the bottle. He pours the wine and Andy asks for a few more minutes with the menu. Again, you have no appetite. 

When you’re alone again, Andy takes a breath and shifts in his chair. He brings his hands together, pinching his left ring finger as if he’s missing something. He quickly pulls his hands apart. 

“You. That’s all I want,” he breathes. 

You stare at him. You don’t understand. Maybe it’s because you don’t want to. If you keep denying it, it might not be the very idea that makes your skin crawl. 

He reaches for his glass of wine and holds it out. You stare at it, then look him in the face. You can’t wipe the horror from your face. 

“Cheers to us, sweetheart,” he says, “me and you.” 

You shake your head as he waits. Slowly you take the glass before you and raise it. He clinks the crystal between you. 

“It’s the first day of the rest of our lives,” he declares, “we can both build the home we always wanted. Together.” 

🎮

Andy pays the bill as you wallow in futility. This is it. Your life is over. All because of one mistake. All because you trusted the wrong person. 

He stands first and you follow. He grabs the to-go box of the food you barely touched. You’re in such a fog, you can barely think. He gestures you towards the door as he nudges you with the box. You hug your purse to your stomach and walk between the tables. 

The cool night air wakes you up. As you come to the sidewalk, you stop. You turn back to him and wet your mouth, a hint of wine on your tongue. 

“Call. Right now,” your voice shakes. 

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” He inclines his head as if he doesn’t understand. 

“The police. Call. You said you would help Kara,” you insist. 

His brow arches and he nods. He holds out the container and you take it stiffly, letting your purse dangle from your shoulder. He pulls out his phone as he stares at you. Finally, he looks down and scrolls. He clears his throat before he puts it to his ear. 

“Hi, yes, this is Andy Barber, I’m an attorney for a woman in your custody. Yes, I do.” You listen to the piecemeal conversation, “name is Kara Orascio. Yes, she won’t be talking to the police any longer. That’s correct.” He pauses and listens intently, “I’m out of town but I can be there tomorrow. Sure.” 

He hangs up as his eyes cling to you still.  

“So, looks like we need to pack,” he says. 

“What?” You utter. 

“Don’t you want to see your friend?” He challenges. 

“Well, yes, but I thought you--” 

“I’m not coming back here again. So, you’re coming. We’ll deal with your friend’s charges then we’ll go home.” 

You blink, “home?” 

“Sure, sweetheart, I got it all ready for you,” he turns down the sidewalk and takes your hand. 

You have the urge to rip your hand out of his. You want to tell him not to touch you. You want to scream and run away. You don’t because you want to save Kara more. 

“I meant what I said before. I can get you into school down there,” he guides you along, “you’ll like it. It's close to Boston. Place called Nelson. You ever been to Massachusetts?” 

“Hm, no, didn’t travel much.” 

“That’s okay. We can do some of that too. Still got lots of summer left. We could go somewhere sunny,” he drawls, “you know, it gets gloomy in the fall so we may as well enjoy it while we can.” 

“Sure,” you murmur. 

Your feet are heavy, your head too, every part of you just wants to give up. Haven’t you? Isn’t that what this is? You surrender.  

“You okay, sweetheart?” He stops and lets go of you, fishing around in his pocket. 

“I’m...” your vision narrows in; just like the moment you first met him. As Andy. As the real him. As the twisted man you just sold your soul to. “...tired.” 

“Aw, yeah, well, it’s been a long few days. For both of us. You wanna come back to my hotel. The bed’s really cozy and the tub is deep. You could relax for the night before we gotta get on the road,” he offers. 

You shake your head, “n-no,” you stutter. The last thing you want to do is be alone behind closed doors with him. “You said... pack. I should... do that.” 

“Ah, I did. Alright, I’ll take you to your grandma’s. I’ll have to come early so we can get to your friend.” 

“Right,” you agree coarsely. 

“Trust me. I know how to handle cops,” he chuckles and pulls out his keys, unlocking the car right beside you. He opens the door and steps back, “I’ll call ahead. Get us a room as there too. I guess you’re going to want to catch up with your friend while we’re there. Might be a while before you see her again.” 

You wince and look at him. A while. You look around at the street lights. You’re not unhappy. Leaving this place doesn’t matter to you but leaving Kara, possibly forever, that’s a knife in the chest. But forever is easier if you know she’s okay. If you know she doesn’t pay for your stupidity. 

You nod and get in the car. You can’t speak. If you even try, you’ll bawl. The end is there, you feel it closing you in with the car door. 

[presidentbungus]

you wanna do a sniperspy snippet for me...for little ol me......?

always 🥺

ao3

Sniper's not a huge fan of the weather at this new base--they're somewhere in the Northern US, and he wasn't exactly bred for temperatures below twenty-five, but he finds it's worth braving the perpetual moistness for the new base itself.

It's a drab, rickety old building, just like the lot of them, except this time it's built out of rotting wood that someone puts a new hole in just by walking four times a week. But--but, it's an abandoned factory, aged out of utility for that purpose, and old buildings like this are full of nooks and crannies.

Sniper is some kind of burrowing animal at heart and small spaces have always been a favourite of his, so this is an arrangement that works out well for him. It's something besides sitting in his van playing jazz and thinking about his guns, even if it is sitting in a small dusty room in silence thinking about his guns—and no one really cares for exploring so it's usually a safe bet he'll be left alone.

Usually.

The good thing is that the stairs leading up to this particular room, fulla dusty tables with a nice look out into leaves and just about nothing else, act as a built-in intruder alarm with how creaky the stairs are. The bad news is that right now someone is thundering up those bloody stairs and he's in the middle of making great progress knitting himself a scarf.

It's not exactly Scout who he expects to see turn the corner--mostly because he's usually a lot quieter, has this tendency of sneaking up on people, and Sniper coulda sworn he just heard him calling points, or, laps or... is pitches a baseball thing? Somewhere outside.

But the little bugger is fast enough to make that plausible and more importantly looks like he wants something. "Hey... Snipes."

No harm in starting this off with a nice, round, "I'm busy."

"... Sunshine 'n rainbows," Scout mutters. Then he sees the knitting needles in Sniper's hands--a hideous smirk stretches across his face. "You fast-trackin' your grandma career already? Heh."

Scout brought a smell with him into the room. Something dark, and smoky, that settles itself in Sniper's chest. It's so intensely familiar but he can't quite place it. "What do you want?"

“What, is this weird? Something wrong, big guy?” And Scout gets a lot closer, wringing his hands together in a way he distinctly doesn’t do—

Metal flashes in Scout’s hand—Sniper grabs his wrist with unexpected ease and takes out his own blade, and his kukri glides into Scout’s stomach like a nice hot knife through butter. He lets out a high, pinched wheeze, though the lopsided grin keeps spreading across his face--as the shitty cotton crumpled under his fingers ripples into pinstripes, and the hand on his bicep morphs into smooth black leather.

"Maybe it'd do ya some bloody good to stop wearing that cologne," Sniper mutters. He steps away as much as he can with half his weapon sticking outta Spy--the closeness makes him dizzier than he'd like to admit, the smell of smoke and whiskey.

Spy just wordlessly clutches Sniper like any of this still hurts at this point in their jobs, and a thin line of blood starts trailing out between his teeth.

He already knew it, but the confirmation of it annoys him. "You wanted to get caught," Sniper says, grimly—through what would be a carefully-crafted facade of ambivalence to anyone else, but he knows Spy can look straight through him, read him like a bloody book, so he keeps on pushing the knife through his stomach until he can see the tip come out on the other side, glistening crimson.

Spy coughs for a little while before he seems to be able to work up the breath to respond. "You are not a very good host, are you?"

"Figure there's a bit of a difference between a guest and a bloody intruder, mate."

There's blood all over Sniper's shirt. Oh well. "The fact that you are yet to kill me indicates you are unsure where that line lies…” His eyes flick up teasingly. “Mon ami."

And the right thing to do after that, the professional thing to do, is to pull his kukri out and then shove it into Spy's face until he can't tell the difference between brain and gristle, but he still just keeps standing there with their faces way too close for comfort, frozen to his spot.

Spy notices his hesitation, of course he does. And somehow his smile keeps twitching wider, even as the rest of his face knits itself together with the effort of standing. "You seem to have made your decision."

"Do you have anything to do besides..." He doesn't want to find the word. "This?"

"Dinner," Spy says quickly. "Ah, picnics... weekends away..." He glances up at Sniper long enough to imply, and teasingly: "But no, nothing I can do alone."

"What about sitting here and bleeding out while I go find someone better to talk to?"

"But who is better to talk to," Spy gurgles, "than the man you spend all day on the battlefield ogling through your scope?"

He can't stop the blush from crawling across his face. "Not—ogling is a—I'm just doin' my job."

"And I am very much not doing mine. All I ask is one night." Then that hand shifts over to his chest, trails up to his neck.

"You have a motive you’re not giving here." They both know this isn't true. Sniper already knows he's going to leave this room having promised something he's not entirely sure about, but there's no point in dropping the charade just yet.

"Do you want me to beg, monsieur?" He must not respond quick enough, because he follows right away: "You have no perception of how dire the romantic prospects stand on my team, and you are, regrettably… so very handsome.” Smart fingers pass all the way up his cheek, dip just under the collar of his shirt, like there isn’t a knife in his stomach. “And I know there is something about me that attracts you, and you seem to be completely unwilling to cross the distance on your own, and I will refuse to continue standing for it." Spy pauses for a second to spit the blood out of his mouth and then turns back to Sniper and grins. "Kiss me."

That's the first thing he's said all day that actually makes sense. The next few seconds is a blur; thankfully there's enough blood in both of their mouths that covers up the fact that Sniper has no idea what he's doing and Spy very much does.

At some point Spy's legs buckle and he hits the floor with a loud thump--Sniper doesn't go with him, really takes him a couple of seconds of standing and blinking to figure out what just happened to him, and finally, finally, the image of Spy laying on the ground and choking on his own blood reminds Sniper that he is currently being paid to do a job.

The sound of him pulling his rifle off his back doesn't seem to perturb Spy at all; in fact, his smile still defies physics and finds room to grow, even as he writhes in the ground out of... what can't really be called pain anymore, but instinct.

With a gun-barrel resting on his forehead all Spy does is raise his hand and say: "I will see you on Friday. Shower."

All Sniper can find to say to that is "I shower," but that's muttered in the middle of the gunshot and at that point it's a losing fight. He knows Spy's just getting on his nerves. That's all the bugger does.

Arsehole didn't even bother to confirm that Sniper had any interest in seeing him, but... Sniper knows, with a heavy dose of shame, he probably implied the answer well enough on his own. Piss.

[strawberrybasilsorbet]

Jilytober Day 11

Missed yesterday, but I'm hoping to go back when I have time! In the meantime, here's my try at today's @jilytoberfest prompt:

October 11th Prompt: 🎶“Uncovering feelings unfound”🎶 - Out of the Blue by Katie Pruitt

Lily peeked out from behind the corner of the cricket shed before surreptitiously lighting her cigarette. Smoking wasn't prohibited, but her break wasn't officially supposed to start for another twenty minutes; it had only been thanks to some fairly pitiable wrangling — and a promise to take on her Friday shift — that Anne had agreed to cover the last hour so that Lily could decompress.

Closing her eyes, Lily leaned her head back against the shed and sunk to the ground, taking a long drag. It was only half-past noon, but some blokes had made a mess of one of her tables at the pub last night, and she hadn't finished closing until after one in the morning. She was already looking forward to sinking into bed.

In the distance, she heard a splash and a shout. It sounded like some kid had flipped his canoe again. She snickered a little; Anne would definitely be more annoyed about switching shifts now that she needed to get her hair wet.

It had been a long summer. Seventh year was going to be expensive — she'd need money to pay the application fees if she wanted to try for a Healing apprenticeship, to pick up a set of dress robes for the Leavers' Ball, to make a deposit on a flat rental after she finished Hogwarts — and Lily was trying to save as much as she could. Most mornings, she got on the bus for her day job at the nearest holiday camp, only to take the 5pm back to Cokeworth, eat a quick supper, and start her evening shift at Oscar's pub. Lily didn't mind hard work, but after six weeks of both jobs, she was beginning to feel run down.

At least she didn't have to spend much time at her own place. Between Tuney's sniping at home and Sev's lurking around the park, hoping she'd forget his horrible behavior at school now that his pack of Death Eater-wannabes wasn't around, it was hard to get a moment's peace.

She took another drag. Maybe she could talk Oscar into putting her on the early side tonight. He owed her, after the amount of mopping up she'd done yesterday...

"There you are, Evans!"

Lily jumped and opened her eyes. She thought she'd heard...but that made no sense...

"Potter?" She blinked. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Improbably, James Potter — wearing a fairly convincing set of Muggle clothes, although his orange checkered polo shirt clashed horrendously with a pair of short, salmon-pink trousers — was striding toward her from the nearby woods, looking far too cheerful for the August heat. "Looking for you!" he said affably. "It seemed a nice day for a visit, and we'd been getting on well this summer, so I thought—"

"Potter, I'm at work." She stared in surprise.

He had the grace to turn a bit sheepish. "Oh, I'm sorry, Evans," he said, looking around. "Is now is a bad time?"

"No, I just—." Lily blushed. She'd given Potter her address earlier this summer — only so he could practice with the Muggle post, of course — and suddenly, she realized that she'd been writing him rather a lot.

Potter made a surprisingly charming pen friend. His letters, full of witty jokes and updates about his summer with his mates, were a welcome connection to the magical world and a relief from her tense avoidance of Sev and Tuney. More than once, she'd found herself looking forward to reading them as she came home from the pub, or scribbling quick replies by wandlight so she could get them in the mail before she caught the morning bus to camp.

"I just — how did you get here, anyway?"

"I stopped by your house," said James, shrugging. "Remember, you gave me your address? Someone — I think your mum? — answered the door and said that you were here." He still looked abashed. "I guess she might not have expected me to come by, but she said you might not be home until quite late, so I thought—"

"That's alright—"

"I can visit another day—"

"No, it's really okay, Potter," said Lily, who by now was quite red. Somehow, it wasn't the fact that Potter had showed up at her job, but the unflattering color of her uniform swimsuit that was on Lily's mind. She hadn't brushed her hair this morning, and she'd been sweating in the heat... "They're not too fussy here, and I'm basically on my break, anyway. It's nice to see you." She took another drag on her snuck cigarette, trying to look a bit less flustered. "You just showed up a bit out of the blue, that's all."

"Literally," said Potter, with a playful smile. He gestured toward the cloudless sky. "Stashed my broomstick in the trees back there."

She groaned theatrically at the terrible wordplay, knocking him with her shoulder. "Too scared to take the bus, Potter?"

"Oh, certainly. Petrol is too advanced for me, I'm still grasping bicycles."

She grinned. She knew perfectly well that Potter had likely passed his Muggle Studies exam with flying colors, as he did most of his others. "If you stick around until 5 o'clock, I'm happy to show you the ropes on my way back to Cokeworth."

"Gladly," said James. He peered curiously around the shed, taking in the archery setup, large lake, and row of cabins just beyond the cricket field. "What do you do here, anyway?"

"It's a holiday camp," Lily explained. "Families come to play games and get away from home for a bit during the summer."

"They don't holiday abroad?"

"God, you're posh." Lily rolled her eyes. "Why go to France, honestly, when you could stay at camp and win the donkey derby?"

"The what?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," said Lily.

"I have to see this. You run a donkey derby?"

"Not me personally," Lily said, giggling. "I'm hopeless with animals. I mostly serve lunch or take shifts dragging the little kids out of the lake."

"Why are the kids in the lake?"

"Oh, we do canoeing on one half and swimming on the other. Except sometimes the canoeing turns into swimming, because there's always some troublemakers flipping their boat on purpose."

James grinned. "Good for them."

"I'm appalled," Lily replied. "Are you trying to make my job harder, Potter?"

"In this weather?" said James. "Nah. I'm giving you an excuse to cool off, I expect."

James's eyes flickered to her swimsuit and quickly away. Lily swallowed, suddenly wishing she'd finished her shift after all. "I'm tied up tonight," she said, "but if you were to come back another day...if I took a night off from my evening job, I mean, and you wanted to go for a dip?"

James looked up. "Yeah," he said, a bit too eagerly. "Just because it's so hot, I mean," he said, smoothing out his tone. Lily noticed, amused, that his voice had suddenly got a bit deeper. She put out her cigarette, noticing that her earlier exhaustion had vanished.

"Well, alright then," she said. "It's a date." James gave her a dimpled smile. She hadn't noticed how sweet his smile was, before.

Where had it come from, this strange new fondness between them? Was it a fleeting thing, driven by Lily's exhaustion and James's boredom — destined to fall off with the autumn leaves when they returned to school, and to the old habits of their old stomping grounds? Or, maybe, could their letters be turning into something, well...a little bit more, maybe, lasting, or...

"Can anyone come to these holiday camps?" James asked, interrupting Lily's train of thought. "Because if donkey derbying is allowed, I want to kick Sirius's arse."

Lily threw her head back with a laugh. "With a day pass," she told him, "but if you've got a connection on the staff, she can probably sneak you in for free."

[pinktwingirl]

So I’ve been getting a lot of remarks from people saying that me pointing out that the mainstream media is biased towards Israel and Zionism is somehow “antisemitic” because it’s a “dog whistle” for the bigoted conspiracy theory that “the media is controlled by Jews.” To which my response is: NO. IT’S. FUCKING. NOT. Even if you yourself are not a Zionist, you are still repeating Zionist propaganda by saying this. The fact that the mainstream media is biased is not a “conspiracy”; that is objectively the truth. That is not just my assessment; that is the assessment of MANY people, including both Palestinian and Jewish scholars alike. In fact, many of the people I’ve watched and listened to on this topic are Jewish and Holocaust survivors themselves, including Dr. Gabor Mate (highly, HIGHLY recommend his videos btw). The media is UNDENIABLY biased towards covering up Israel’s war crimes and painting anyone who speaks out against Israel as an antisemite, and a LOT of people are being hurt as a consequence. People are losing their jobs and livelihoods simply for saying that genocide is bad. People in Gaza are being sniped during this so-called “truce” for just trying to go back to their homes. Doctors are having to operate on children without anesthesia because they have no supplies, and no one with any power is willing to help them. And yet every major news station is either not reporting on it at all or basically saying “well too bad, that’s just war.”You CANNOT expect me to look at this situation and not point out how fucked up this is. Now, is it true that there are people who will use this as an excuse to be antisemitic? Yes. Am I one of those people? Of course not. I have said time and time again that the reason for the bias is US capitalists and war profiteers protecting their own interests, not Jewish people. If people still continue to look at that and cry that “Jewish people are controlling the media,” then I am not responsible for their stupidity (but for the record anyone who tries to come onto my blog with that shit is getting banned on sight). I am responsible for what I say; I am not responsible for how people choose to interpret what I say. Of course, being someone who is not Jewish themselves, I acknowledge that I am obviously not the most qualified person to determine what is or isn’t antisemitic and I want people to tell me if I say something offensive or insensitive. But I am not going to put up with being labeled antisemitic simply for demanding that the mainstream media do their fucking jobs and tell the truth.

[depressedhouseplant]

🔞 In Darkness I Found You 🔞

Synopsis: In which alpha Hobi finds a severely injured omega in his front yard during a storm and discovers the horrible path that lead him to Hobi in the first place

Tags: Mentions of rape, forced pregnancy, & restraints

Hobi picked up his head from what he was doing on the computer when the flood light went on in the front yard. It was pouring rain outside & the only thing that could possibly set it off was something large moving. 

“Tae did you leave one of the dogs out?” he yelled down the stairs to his younger brother. 

“No, they’re right here!” Tae yelled back. Hobi closed his laptop and went downstairs. 

“Didn’t you see the light go off?” he asked. 

“It’s probably just a deer or something,” Tae replied clearly unwilling to go outside and check. They lived on a horse farm out in the country with their nearest neighbors 6 miles away. 

“Fine, I’ll check,” Hobi pulled on his boots and rain jacket. The downside of having 2 Alphas living in the same house was little tasks like checking for possible intruders were deadlocked longer than they should’ve been. The light had gone out by the time Hobi got out there. It was raining so hard that he could barely see in front of him. The light went back on and he smelled it before he saw it. 

There was a person collapsed in the grass, specifically an Omega in severe distress. The smell almost knocked him over. He jogged over and scooped up the young male. He was still alive, but even in the darkness of the storm, Hobi could tell he was in bad shape. 

“Tae, open the door!” he yelled. The irritated look on his brother’s face disappeared when he saw the Omega in Hobi’s arms. 

“Put him in the bathroom,” Tae said and went to get his bag. He was a nurse and Hobi was a vet, so this Omega had lost his energy in the best yard for miles. Hobi lied him down on the bath mat and finally got a good look at him. He was muddy from where he’d fallen. His clothes were old and worn out. He was thin, but the type of thin where he’d been fed one step above what he needed to survive. Hobi thought he saw blood in between his legs. He may have just given birth. But an Omega wouldn’t leave his newborn pup behind. Would he? Hobi didn’t know much about Omegas other than the ones Tae told him about from the hospital. Neither he nor Tae had considered taking mates. They were content with their jobs, animals, and sniping at each other like siblings do, especially 2 Alpha siblings. The Omega looked up at Hobi. He was clearly confused and exhausted. 

“It’s okay. We’re going to help you,” Hobi reassured him. “My name is Hobi.”

He tried to speak, but nothing came out.  

“That’s okay, I’ll learn your name soon enough,” Hobi smiled at him. He had no idea why he was smiling at him. Maybe because it reassured him, too. He’d spent years working with skittish horses and it was serving him well now. 

“Okay, let's get a look at you,” Tae said. As he went to check the Omega’s breathing with his stethoscope, the Omega suddenly got wild eyed and started whining. He tried to get away, but was too weak to do more than a half roll. Hobi looped his arm under the Omega’s arms & pulled him up into sitting position. He sat behind him bolstering the Omega’s back against his chest. 

“He’s not going to hurt you. This is my brother Tae. He’s going to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself when you fell. Nod if you understand me,” Hobi said. The Omega nodded against Hobi’s chest. 

“We’re gonna have to clean him up, too,” Tae said. “Though I think I know what’s going on here.”

“What?” Hobi asked. Tae looked at the Omega. 

“Have you been pregnant before?” he asked.

The Omega nodded. 

“More than 3 times since you presented?” Tae continued.

The Omega nodded again. 

“He’s a Breeder,” Tae sighed. 

“Isn’t that illegal?” Hobi asked.

“Very,” Tae confirmed.

“I know you won’t like this, but once we get you cleaned up I’m going to have to examine you. Since you were bleeding I want to make sure you won’t get an infection. Okay?” Tae said to the Omega. He nodded. 

“I’ll help get you washed up,” Hobi said. The Omega started to shake a little and smell like fear. “I’m not going to do that to you. I’m just going to clean you up so Tae can make sure you’re okay.” The Omega stopped shaking, but the scent of fear stayed. 

“I’ll be outside,” Tae said. Hobi started to fill the tub. He consistently soothed him like he did with the horses while he helped him get undressed and in the tub. As the mud washed off, Hobi noticed scars on his wrists and ankles from being tied up. If he really was a Breeder, that wasn’t a surprise. Omegas with desirable traits, such as a certain eye color or body type, were allegedly paid to mate with Alphas and produce equally desirable pups. The reality of the situation was they were kept as hostages and almost constantly pregnant. The practice had been outlawed decades ago. The fact that this Omega was showing obvious signs of being a Breeder meant one of their neighbors was engaging in one hell of a sketchy stream of income. 

“I’m going to go get Tae now. Will you be okay in here for a minute by yourself?” Hobi asked as he drained the tub and helped the Omega out into a towel. He nodded. Hobi helped him towel off, careful to avoid his crotch and any indication he might be interested in knotting him, then sat him back on the floor against the wall. “I’ll get some clean clothes for you, too. They’ll smell like Alpha, but they’ll at least be dry.” The look in the Omega’s eyes was grateful. The smell of fear had dissipated. This was probably the first time he’d been treated with any kindness in a long time. 

Hobi got Tae and the Omega started to look suspicious again. Two Alphas in the room was obviously one too many for him. 

“I’ll be as quick as I can. I just need to make sure nothing is going to get infected,” Tae told him. The Omega looked at Hobi. 

“Do you want me to help you sit again?” Hobi asked. The omega nodded. 

“Okay. He’s going to have to examine why you had blood on your pants. He isn’t going to knot you. He just needs to check,” Hobi sat behind the Omega again as he reluctantly spread his legs. Tae put on gloves and the Omega started to whine and shake. He’d definitely been a Breeder and only had negative experiences with medical professionals. They always took his pups away. 

“Breathe. I promise he won’t hurt you,” Hobi scratched the Omega’s head. He was grooming an Omega he’d found half dead in his front yard 2 hours ago. What the hell was going on with him? 

“There’s still a pup in there. It’s not very big, but it’s there. I think he miscarried one, but not the other,” Tae said after he finished palpating the Omega’s abdomen. The Omega looked at him in surprise. 

“How far do you think?” Hobi asked. 

“Three months, maybe? I doubt he’ll show anytime soon with one this small,” Tae said. “There’s still a risk he’ll lose this one, too. We can’t let him move around too much and we definitely need to get him fed properly soon.”

“Let’s get you dressed and get you in bed. Okay?” Hobi said. The Omega nodded still watching Tae closely. 

“I’ll get him some water and soup or something,” Tae said. 

“I’ll put him in the guest room. That should smell slightly less like Alpha,” Hobi said. Once he got the Omega dressed in a pair of his old sweatpants and tee shirt, he picked him up again and carried him to the guest bedroom. They rarely used it because they rarely had guests. 

“Here we go. Nice and cozy,” Hobi said. 

“Yoongi,” the Omega finally found his voice. “I’m Yoongi.”

“Nice to meet you, Yoongi,” Hobi smiled at him. Yoongi put Hobi’s hand on his belly. 

“This is pup number 10,” he said.

“Hi pup number 10,” Hobi said. His gut jerked at the realization that Yoongi had birthed or lost 9 pups since he presented. This would be the first pup he was allowed to keep.

“How old are you?” Hobi asked. 

“I think I’m 25,” Yoongi replied.

“You think?” Hobi was confused.

“What year is it?” Yoongi asked. 

“2019,” Hobi replied. 

“Then I’m 25,” he replied. If he’d been held captive then he’d have no clue how much time had passed other than roughly how long he’d been pregnant. 

“I have water and chicken noodle soup,” Tae said, coming into the room with a tray. “I also found some vitamins. They aren’t prenatal, but they’ll do until I can get some.”

Yoongi let out a whine. 

“I know you’re scared, but he’s not gonna take your pup or hurt you. Right Tae?” Hobi looked at his brother.

“Nope,” Tae said as he put down the tray on the nightstand. “I’m going to make sure you and the pup are nice and healthy. So you can keep a healthy, happy pup.”

“You won’t take my pup?” Yoongi put his hand over his belly. 

“No, I won’t take your pup,” Tae reassured him. “This one is yours.”

Yoongi looked at Hobi. 

“The pup is yours.  We won’t take it from you,” he said. 

“Then why are you being nice to me?” Yoongi questioned.

“Because you’re a person who deserves to be treated with kindness and respect. You’re not a pup factory,” Hobi replied. Tae nodded in agreement. Yoongi didn’t look convinced. “Let’s at least get some dinner in you. You both need to eat.”

“Yell if you need me,” Tae said and left. Hobi handed him the water and he drank it in almost one gulp. 

“Looks like you need a refill.” Hobi smiled.

“Guess I was thirstier than I thought,” Yoongi said. By the time he finished the soup, took the vitamin, and finished 2 more glasses of water, it was almost midnight. 

“Think you can sleep?” Hobi asked. 

“I am tired,” Yoongi said. 

“My room is right next door if you need anything, though Tae probably won’t want you getting up,” Hobi said. 

“You can stay,” Yoongi said. 

“You’re not afraid of me?” Hobi asked.

“You smell...safe,” Yoongi said, choosing the words carefully.

“Then I guess I’ll change and be right back,” Hobi said. As he changed into his pajamas, he thought about what Yoongi had said. Did Yoongi only feel that way because Hobi picked him up in the pouring rain from the mud? Was he only uneasy around Tae because Tae reminded him of the doctors who took his pups away? Or was it something else? Hobi had unconsciously started grooming him to keep him calm while Tae was examining him. He wasn’t his mate. He barely knew him. He’d put Hobi’s hand on his belly, his most vulnerable place. He seemed to trust Hobi. They needed him to trust at least one of them if they were going to get him and the pup healthy. It wasn’t more than that. It couldn’t be.

Yoongi had dozed off sitting up when Hobi came back into the bedroom. Hobi tried to get in bed without disturbing him and failed. Yoongi jerked awake. 

“It’s okay, it’s just me,” Hobi said. 

“Okay,” Yoongi tried to slow his breathing. 

“Down we go,” Hobi helped him to lying down. Hobi lied down facing him. Yoongi watched him intently. 

“What?” Hobi asked. 

“I can’t remember the last time I slept in a real bed,” he said. 

“Where did you sleep?” Hobi wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

“Roll away hospital beds. It was easier when it was time for us to give birth,” Yoongi swallowed hard. 

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Hobi said. 

“Yes, I do,” Yoongi whispered. “The Alphas liked me because I was one of the prettiest males. The ones who didn’t want to be with a female almost always picked me. I fought, though. That’s why they had to strap me down. I wouldn’t hold still long enough for the Alphas to knot me. Then I got a reputation for being a fighter. That’s when it got really bad.”

“Being strapped down and raped wasn’t bad enough?” Hobi tried to keep himself calm. He didn’t want to upset Yoongi any more than he already was and by extension the pup. 

“Once I was labeled a fighter, they’d put me in a pen first to let the Alpha catch me before I was knotted. I bit a lot of Alphas. Ones who wanted pups that were aggressive would play that game. What they didn’t understand is I learned to fight. I’m not an aggressive Omega,” Yoongi’s voice started shaking. Hobi could smell the fear and anxiety. 

“That’s over now. We’re going to find out who’s doing it and where they are and stop them. You and this pup are safe. Anyone who comes in this house without our permission will have to get through us & the dogs,” Hobi told him. 

“Dogs?” Yoongi repeated.

“Two spoiled rotten pit bulls named Daisy and Violet,” Hobi told him. “They’re the biggest babies on the planet until they come across someone threatening their daddies.”

“What about me?” Yoongi asked. 

“You won’t be able to get Daisy out of your lap. She won’t be happy when we shoo her off until Tae has cleared you for lap time,” Hobi replied. “She pouts.” Yoongi smiled a little. 

“I don’t mean to be afraid of him,” Yoongi started. 

“But nurses aren’t your favorite people?” Hobi finished. 

“No,” he said. 

“He can be a jackass, but I’m biased. He’s my little brother,” Hobi grinned. 

“Sure,” Yoongi said. 

“Time to turn out the light?” Hobi asked. 

“Sounds good,” Yoongi said. 

“It’s okay. I’m right here,” Hobi told him as he leaned over and turned off the light. Then he felt Yoongi nosing around his neck scenting him. “Does that make you feel better?”

“Yes,” he whispered. 

“Then rub around all you want,” Hobi hoped he could keep his knot at bay. Now that Yoongi wasn’t reeking of anxiety and fear, he smelled...perfect. Hobi wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, but it was what came to mind. He was on bed rest for the pup and the most exertion he needed was to go to the bathroom and get back in bed. Maybe once the pup was out of the woods…

“You like me too, huh?” Yoongi said. Hobi looked down. Shit. 

“It’s not like that. I don’t want to, I mean I do, but we just met and the pup and everything,” Hobi stumbled over his words .

“I understand. The pup comes first,” he said. 

“Absolutely,” Hobi agreed. 

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” Yoongi asked. 

“Is this a trick question?” Hobi asked. 

“No, but I didn’t expect to be rescued by an Alpha in the pouring rain after I escaped a Breeder Farm and was sure I was going to die in the mud. Every time one of those Alphas knotted me and hoped they’d get me pregnant so they could have their perfect pup, I’d pray that there was at least one Alpha in the world who didn’t want me, as you so aptly put it, as only a pup factory. It’s what kept me alive. One day I’d get out and one day I’d find that Alpha. I knew when I smelled you that you were different. You didn’t want me to die. I didn’t even realize I lost that pup until Tae said something. You would think I knew better after giving birth 5 times, but all I could think about was getting out. It was only after I fell down that I realized how bad it was. I dunno, maybe it’s only because I was dying that I thought the Alpha I’d dreamed about for years had finally found me,” Yoongi replied. 

“I started grooming you when Tae was examining you because it seemed to keep you calm. I don’t think I’ve ever groomed anything other than a horse or a dog,” Hobi replied. “That has to mean something, right?”

“Have you been looking for a mate?” Yoongi asked.

“No,” Hobi answered.

“Then it means something,” Yoongi said. He gently kissed Hobi. “Thank you for saving our lives, Hobi.”

“You’re welcome,” Hobi replied. “And so are you, pup number 10.” Yoongi put Hobi’s hand on his belly again. 

“Pup says thank you, too,” he said.

“Good night, Yoongi,”

“Good night, Hobi,”

[mtsainthelens]

sniping's a bad job mate

[justthehiddleswrites]

Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 7 | If anyone is taking my wife out on a date, it’ll be me!

A/N:  Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed).  It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will.  Keep your hate to yourself.  

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt.  Tom has an idea to solve all their problems.  Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts.  Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else.  In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Tom finally pulls himself together to tell Molly he loves her.  But is it too late for these two? 

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of:  child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED!  THANK YOU FOR READING!

--

Tom paced around the house for a good two hours. Each plan he came up with to win Molly back, more hairbrained than the next. None of them would have worked anyway. Tom didn’t know where she was staying. And she had been smart enough to withdraw cash from an ATM to use for a hotel room. During Tom’s muttering and ranting, his eye caught the vase Molly put the flowers from yesterday in. The sight of them enraged him so much that he flung them across the room. It hit the wall, sending glass, water and flowers flying and leaving a mark on the wall.

“Fuck! Another fucking mess to clean up.” he growled at himself as he went to clean it up.

Tom sliced open a finger and the palm of his right hand, picking up the glass shards to bin them.

“Christ, Thomas! Can’t do anything right. Break the vase and make a mess, cut your hand to hell, destroy the one good thing…”

He collapsed into sobs against the wall, covering his eyes with his non-injured hand. The other hand hung at his side, blood dripping onto the floor. It took a good five minutes for Tom to get himself off the floor. He poorly dressed the wound on his palm, having only the use of one hand and not his good hand.

Rather than bothering to clean up the mess, he let it sit and headed to bed. Not that he would do much sleeping.

He woke the next morning to more speculation in the papers about his marriage and a splitting headache. He fixed himself an espresso. His stomach rumbled, and he realized he missed dinner yesterday. Tom opened the fridge to find storage containers of fruit with little notes on them.

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

Tom chuckled as tears welled up again. “Oh, Molly.” He opened up the container and popped a piece of melon into his mouth. His phone buzzed.

“Ben.” he answered dryly, popping another piece of melon in.

“That bad? I suspected as much. How did you fuck this up?” Ben chuckled.

“I yelled. I called her stupid. I got jealous. But mostly I yelled. I never should have yelled at her. She doesn’t like to be yelled at. I promised not to yell at her…”

“You’re babbling, Tom. How on earth does a confession of your undying love turn into you yelling and her, sleeping on the couch?”

“Never got that far, and she moved out.” Tom sniffled. “I, I don’t know where she is.”

“Well, damn it man, find her and fix this. I can’t handle another six months of you moping about.” Ben groaned.

“What makes you think she’ll take me back. I broke her trust. I did the one thing—”

“She will take you back because she loves you. Don’t believe everything you read in the papers. Besides, didn’t Loki kick Captain America’s ass?”

Tom chuckled. “Only once.” Tom sighed. “But how am I going to find her?”

“Have you tried the phone?”

Tom glared at his mobile. “You are hilarious, mate. Yes.”

“One of her friends then. Surely, someone must know where she is staying.”

Tom shook his head. “She doesn’t really have many…” Tom snapped his fingers. “I’ve got to let you go, Ben.”

“Where are you off to?”

“I got to sell my soul.”

“To the Devil?”

“Worse. My sister.”

-

Emma didn’t expect to see her brother appear on her doorstep that morning. She had expected him to call first.

“I don’t know where she is, Tom!” Emma snapped back.

“You’re lying, Emma. Your brow always twitches when you are lying. Where is she, Emma?”

“I’m not telling you, Tom. She told me what you said.” Emma narrowed her eyes at her brother.

“And I need to tell her I was a right bastard.”

“Which you are!”

Tom shook his head. “If I tell you everything, will you tell where Molly is? I don’t care if she tells me to fuck off. I just need her to know I love her. More than anything.”

Emma opened the door wider and crossed her arms. “I’m listening.”

Tom stepped inside. “So you know how after the break-up, the papers kept running stories about me?”

“Yeah…”

Tom ran his toe along the edge of the rug in Emma’s foyer. “So I may have come up with the idea of getting married to give the papers something else to write?”

Emma’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. “So you’re not married. Mum is going to—”

“Oh no, I’m legally married. I’ve got the certificate to prove it. I agreed to pay off her debts in exchange for carrying as my wife.” Tom’s voice grew smaller as he explained the whole arrangement.

“Is Molly a—”

“Don’t even say it, Emma or I swear. Don’t speak ill of Molly. She is a nice girl who has managed admirably despite a horrific childhood. And I…” He struggled to find the words.

“Fell in love.” Emma finished his sentence.

Tom’s eyes welled with tears, and he nodded. “I did. I didn’t mean to, but I did, Em. She is…” Tom choked. “… my world. I love her so much it burns me from the inside out and she doesn’t know. She needs to know. I can’t let her go without her knowing she is loved. By me.” A tear fell onto Tom’s cheek.

Emma stood there for a moment, silently staring at her brother, crying in her foyer. “You realize by telling me all this, I will have enough to blackmail you until the end of time to not tell Mother?”

“A price I will gladly pay to get the chance to talk to my wife one more time.” Tom gazed up at his sister. “Will you help me, Emma?”

She shifted her feet around. “She’s at the Park International Hotel, Room 223.”

Tom leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you, Em.”

“Go get the girl, Tom.” she smiled at him.

-

“Thanks for coming over.” Molly sniffled. “I know you’re busy.”

“Hey, hey.” Chris reached out and grabbed her hand. “It’s no trouble. You sounded so upset on the phone.”

Molly smiled over at Chris before her face crumbled as she cried again. For the looks of it, she had cried most of the night. Her eyes were puffy and rimmed with red.

“Sh, sh, sh.” Chris moved to envelope her in a hug, pulling her tight to his chest. “Tell me what happened. It’s about the picture, isn’t it?”

Molly nodded her head against him. “Yes.”

“I can’t imagine Tom getting mad about that, babe. We are just friends.”

“I know, right? But Tom got so mad and cold. And he yelled. He knows how… how.. I.. am with yelling.” She buried her head in his chest. “I thought he cared about me.”

“Of course he cares about you. He loves you, Molly.” Chris pulled back. “You’re his wife.”

“It’s a bit more to it than that, I’m afraid.” She wiped the tears away. “Our relationship is…” She was on the verge of telling Chris everything.

“Complicated?” Chris raised an eyebrow. “Tell me about it. And the fame only makes it worst. Everyone watching and judging. They have no idea what is going behind closed doors.”

“That’s an understatement.” Molly sniffled. “How do you deal?”

Chris smiled and laughed. “Not well. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m single.”

“A handsome guy like you?” Molly teased.

“I have my flaws. But my dog thinks I’m great.”

Molly laughed for the first time. “I bet he does.”

“But the important thing is that the two of you love and care for each other, and the rest of it is bullshit.” Chris sighed. “And you and Tom clearly care for each other. Why else would he act so possessive?” Chris smirked.

“You noticed that?”

“I could have been blind and noticed that. Tom has got it bad. And I can’t say I blame him. A beautiful, amazing girl like you. He’s a lucky guy. If you were single…”

Molly blushed. “Thanks.”

They sat in awkward silence until Chris smacked his legs.

“Well, this is awkward. I’m going to go get some food for us and bring it back, and we are going to figure out what to do next.”

Chris turned to leave. “Chris!” Molly called out.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for everything.”

“Sure, babe.”

-

Tom stepped out of the elevator and walked towards Molly’s room. The entire drive over, Tom went through his head what he would say to Molly. How he would beg her to come back. That he loved her. All that went out the window when he saw Chris leaving Molly’s room.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Tom bellowed. “Haven’t you done enough?”

Chris spun around and his eyes narrowed. “I’m here at Molly’s request. Apparently, her husband upset her.” he sniped back.

“And you’re here to comfort her? That’s my job. I’m her husband.” Tom’s fist clenched as he saw Chris smirking at him.

“You’re doing a piss-poor job, buddy. She’s been crying all night.” Chris jabbed his thumb at the door.

“How would you know that?!” Tom marched forward until he was toe to toe with Evans.

Chris looked Tom up and down. “Listen,” he ignored Tom’s question. “if things don’t work out between the two of you, mind if I date her? She’s seems like a great girl, deserves a good—”

CRACK! Tom punched Chris square on the jaw. Chris tumbled to the ground, holding his face.

“If anyone is taking my wife out on a date, it’ll be me!” Tom yelled back.

“Tom!” Molly stood at the door. “What the fuck?!”

“Molly!” Tom and Chris called out together. They both rushed to her, but Tom got there first, kicking a foot out to keep Chris at bay.

“Darling, I…” Tom reached out for her. Molly took a step back.

“How did you even find me?”

“Emma told me.”

Molly huffed. “Traitor.”

“She knows.” Tom leaned in.

Molly gasped. “You told her?! But she might tell your mom. Tom, I…”

“You’re worth the risk.”

“I should say so.” Chris piped up.

Tom’s head twisted around to glare at Chris.

“You’re still here? This is none of your concern.” Tom hissed.

“I was invited.” Chris straightened his shirt. “Right, Molly?”

Molly held up her hand. “I think you should go, Chris.”

“But—” Chris protested.

“Tom and I need to talk. Alone.”

Tom smiled at Chris. “Nice to see you, mate.”

Chris wanted to push the issue but knew better. He sighed. “Fine, but call me if you need anything, Molly. I’m still in town for a few more days.”

Molly nodded. “Got it. Thanks, Chris.”

“You’re welcome.” Chris shoved his pockets and walked towards the elevator.

Tom returned his attention to Molly. They stepped into her room and shut the door. “It hasn’t even been 24 hours, Molly. And he’s already in your be—”

“Did you just come here to yell at me again?! And what are you talking about?”

“Chris said you have been crying all night. I assumed…” Tom stopped. “He didn’t—”

“No, but thanks for thinking so little of me. Did you come here to tell me that?”

“No, I…” Tom stumbled over his words. “I was wrong. I should have never yelled. Especially knowing what I did. You were right, I was jealous of Chris. I still am.”

Molly tapped her foot. “Anything else? Because you could have sent all of that in a text. You didn’t need to come here. It doesn’t change anything, Tom. I.. can’t… keep…” Her voice wavered, all her hurt and emotions mixed up inside of her.

Tom swallowed hard and exhaled sharply. “I love you, Molly. I am…” He chuckled. “hopelessly in love with you. That’s why I got so jealous. I was afraid that…” Tom fidgeted. “… you would leave me.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.” Molly fidgeted.

“I’m an idiot.” Tom stepped forward, cupping her cheek. “I thought admitting I loved you meant losing you. Our relationship was never meant to be this. It was business. And then Chris came along and the two of you got along. I lost my mind.

“The heart wants what it wants.” Molly whispered, her hands lighting on Tom’s shoulders. “Tom, I…”

Tom pleaded. “Please come back. I need you, Molly. I will spend the rest of my life showing you, proving to you I am worthy of your love. Just please come back.” Tom pressed his forehead to hers, breathing hard and crying.

“I… I… love you too.” Molly whispered, starting to sob. “And you are an absolute idiot.”

They both laughed. Tom leaned in and his lips tentatively, scared she would turn away. Molly deepened the kiss, wrapping her arms around Tom’s neck, pulling him against her. Tom walked them back until she hit the wall. Molly gasped. Tom breathed her in and slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting every corner of her. He wanted to know every inch. She clung to him for dear life, tasting him as well. There was heat and passion and everything Molly wanted. She leaned back against the wall, panting.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you like this for so long.” Tom continued to kiss her, in between words, stealing her breath. “Marry me.”

Molly giggled against his lips, cupping his face in her hands. “I’m already married to you.”

Tom’s lips trailed down Molly’s neck. “Then sleep with me.” He sucked hard in the crook of her neck. “Let me make love to you, darling. I need you.” He pressed against her, desperate.

“Yes.” The only word Molly could muster in the moment.

Tom picked her up and walked her to the unmade bed and placed her down. As he tugged his shirt off, Molly scrambled with her shirt and pants, tossing them onto the floor, leaving herself in just a bra and panties.

Tom smiled and licked his lips as he yanked his belt off and pushed his pants and underwear to the floor. Molly gulped as she took in Tom naked.

“Bra and panties too.” he prodded as he crawled onto the bed. “I want to see my wife in all her beauty.”

Molly shivered at his words and her hands shook as she unhooked her bra and slipped her panties down her legs. She laid there naked.

“Glorious.” Tom purred as he settled between her legs. His mouth latched onto one of her nipples, sucking and licking. Molly arched her back and groaned.

“Fuck, yes!” She grabbed the back of Tom’s head and pulled him closer.

Tom released her nipple with a pop and moved over to the other one. His hand snaked between their bodies to find Molly’s core, teasing her clit with his thumb. She bucked against his touch.

“Tom, please. I need you.” Her hand stroked his cock, teasing the tip along her folds. “All of you.”

“Then all of me you shall have.” Tom pushed into her, groaning until he bottomed out. Molly arched into him, filled to the brim.

“Yes!” she breathed.

Tom twisted his hips as he thrusted into her with long strokes, hitting that spot inside of her. Molly bucked her hips, wanting every inch of him. Her nails dug into Tom’s back.

Tom wanted the moment to last forever. Just him and Molly and nothing else. But his release edged near, and he wanted to please Molly first.

“Are you close, darling?” Tom growled in her ear.

Molly nodded. “Yes!”

Tom drew tight circles against Molly’s clit as he sped up his thrusting. “Come for me, my love.”

Molly soon came, clenching hard around him, causing Tom to come too, spilling inside of her. He carefully rolled off to the side, and pulled Molly onto his chest, smoothing her hair back and kissing her forehead.

“That was incredible, darling. You are…”

“So are you.” she interrupted, wiggling into the crook of the body. “Tom?”

“Molly?”

“Will you do me a favor?” She drew circles in Tom’s chest hair with her nail.

“Anything.” He held his breath, waiting.

“Take me home.” Her face breaking out into a sparkling smile.

Tom pressed his lips to hers. “On one condition….” She raised an eyebrow. “You move into the master bedroom with me. I haven’t slept a wink in weeks because you aren’t there.”

Molly laughed as she nodded her head. “Deal.”

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Your demo in a relationship headcanons were simply aaaaaaahhhh!*chef kiss* could we maybe have some for everyone's favorite aussie stringbean?

I absolutely love Sniper...he’s one of those characters I can just fall back on. I also just like Australian accents, especially when he speaks in a low, intimidating voice. Gets me every time. Makes me either blush or happy stim whenever I hear it.

First Date:

You find Sniper on a dating app after a particularly bad break-up.

His profile picture is of him shirtless, holding a huge gun next to him. However, instead of looking sexily into the camera, he’s looking off camera with a bewildered look on his face.

His bio says, “My friends put me up to this. Don’t expect too much. If you go on one date with me maybe they’ll shut up. Who bloody knows?”

You get curious, and you decide to start a chat with him.

“Your friends put you up to this huh? 😏”

“yeah. what of it?”

“What, are you some lonely wolf type or what?”

“you could say that.”

He was texting back almost immediately. Even if he wasn’t a lovey-dovey person, he was certainly interested.

“How would you like to get those friends off your back?”

“i’m free wednesday.”

You make plans, which, despite only seeing this as a one-night stand, you gradually get more and more excited for.

You meet Sniper at a nicer restaurant, wearing a new black dress that you hadn’t worn yet.

When you finally see him at the lobby, you realize that the picture didn’t do him justice, even thought he now had a beige suit on.

His lankiness showed a bit more, but his arms were very strong despite his frame. He was wearing sunglasses, which added an air of cool refinement.

At first you thought he was British because of his texts, but when he spoke, you knew right away he was Australian. You are far from disappointed.

You are still waiting for your table when all of a sudden, Sniper takes out a huge knife. Before you can react, he quickly slices something out of your vision and then brings it before your eyes. You had forgotten to take the tag off your dress.

“I’m flattered. I didn’t think you’d get all shinied up for me.”

You breathe out shakily and rub your neck. Sniper’s eyes furrow.

“I didn’ nick ya, did I?”

“N-no...just s-scared me...”

You thought maybe you had met up with a psycho, and all your suspicions were not put to rest yet, but the close encounter seemed to awaken something in you.

The date continues as normal. Both of you are pretty awkward at first, especially since the knife incident. But before the main meal is brought to your table, you’ve started up a conversation.

Sniper told you he was in the military, but his base is very lax with dress code and schedule.

You start telling him about your job as a graphic designer when all of a sudden a scream interrupts you mid-sentence.

There’s a guy holding a gun about eight tables from you, pointing it at the many patrons. He doesn’t seem drunk, but just enraged.

“WHAT’S A GUY GOTTA DO TO GET SOME DAMN FRIES?!”

The manager tries to talk to him, but ends up getting shot, most likely dead.

The yelling continues for about fifteen minutes. You are very uncomfortable, not to mention terrified, but Sniper seems oddly nonchalant.

Suddenly, Sniper yells, “OI! THEY’RE BRINGIN’ OUT YOUR FRIES! RIGHT THERE, MATE!”

The guy follows Sniper’s finger, and all of a sudden there’s a gunshot. But it wasn’t from the madman’s gun...it was from Sniper’s.

The guy falls over on top of the bleeding manager, writhing in agony.

Before you can even process what’s happening, Sniper grabs you by the arm and drags you out of the restaurant.

“Dishes it out but can’t take it, eh luv? C’mon, we’ll go to my place. It’s real nice.”

You get into his van, which smells like a mixture of old leather, beef jerky, and...something else. However, your terror quickly trumps your logic.

“First Time”:

Despite your fiasco of a first date, you still decide to stay at Sniper’s until it’s all blown over.

His apartment is covered wall to wall with guns, memorabilia, and sticky notes, usually with names and dates written on them.

On the far wall was a cork board filled to the brim with pictures, yarn, and Xs made in thick red Sharpie.

“If I woulda known it would go this far, I woulda tidied up the place. Sorry about that, luv.”

You brush it off, and you both sit on an old leather couch with bits of stuffing sticking out of it.

You take this as a cue to get around to what this whole date had been about: some sweet, sweet rebound. It seems awkward now that you had gone through so much - besides, you hadn’t expected to connect with Sniper the way you have...

But you still manage to spit it out.

“Er...yeah. That’s what people usually do, right? Yeah? I dunno. I’ve been off the playin’ field awhile.”

Sniper puts his hands around your neck and let’s you begin to kiss him. But it was clear after a while he wasn’t into it, so you pull away and ask if he wanted to wait another time.

“Aw, no, shiela. Look at me, lyin’ ‘ere like a dead fish...I just...I’ll try ‘arder, luv, I promise.”

You pull away completely. This had trauma written all over it, and you weren’t about to force someone into it...you were better than your ex.

“Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

You asked him what was wrong, and why he was being so passive about what was happening to him. Why didn’t he say anything? Do anything?

Sniper sighed, pulling his hat way down in front of his face.

“I like girls, don’t get me wrong. It isn’t that. But I never felt...that way about ‘em. Or anybody else, honestly. I tried it once in college...I just ended up feelin’ sick. Tried it with another girl, then another, then another. I even tried with my guy roommate. But I always ended up feelin’ like I was gonna puke. Sometimes I did. It just never felt right. It wasn’t magical, it was bloody disgusting.”

“But every girl I’ve ever been with expected it, and to keep ‘em, I ‘ad to do what they wanted. Sometimes I’d just lie there, tryin’ not to vomit, trying to at least move a little, act like I was into it. They said they’d change my mind, that this time would be different. At the end of the day, it never was, and I lost ‘em. And now I’m gonna lose you too, ‘n I’m gonna halfta tell the guys...they’ll never let this go...”

Back At The Base... :

Spy called the entire team into the security room to watch the entire date go down. He had placed a bug on Sniper’s suit while helping him adjust it, and now everyone was here to watch the show.

Everybody cheered when the guy was shot, though Spy made a mental note to call Miss Pauling in the morning.

The whole team, Scout especially, was excited to see some action when Sniper brought you to his apartment. Well, everyone except Medic. He stood their with his eyebrows creased. He knew exactly what was going to happen.

“Aw, c’mon Snipes, what’s the hold up?! She is so inta you!”

There wasn’t any sound, so no one exactly knew why Sniper paused for so long.

Finally, you two came back together again, but after about thirty minutes of just kissing, the other mercs got bored really fast.

Scout was especially disappointed.

“Man, this was whole thing was a bust!”

Spy shrugged. “Not quite a waste of time. Look at her. She’s smitten. I never thought I would say this, but gentlemen - we have found Sniper a suitable suitor!”

Medic, eyes wide, kept his Sniper’s medical history too himself - not for HIPAA, but for the drama of it all. He wanted to see how this would play out.

Love At First Shot:

On a casual date at his place, Sniper catches you admiring one of his weapons.

“That’s one’s a beaut, ain’ it? That’s one ‘a my oldest guns. She’s outta service, the old girl, but she don’t look a shot over thirty.”

He picks it up and cocks it, nodding approvingly.

“Got this offa real bloody fruit seller. The muzzle ‘ad stains all over it, rust in some places...the bloke obviously had no idea how to take care of it.”

You suddenly feel a pang in your chest.

“Oi, luv, not a fan ‘a guns?”

“No...I...it just made me remember something.”

Sniper puts down his weapon, sits on the sofa, and pats his leg.

“‘Ere. Tell me about it.”

You hesitate for a moment before shyly sitting on his knee. You’re on the smaller side, but you were still afraid you might hurt him.

“Aw, it’s alright. Put your full weight on. These babies can ‘old an Aussie an’ an AK-47.”

You giggle, letting yourself get a little more comfortable.

“Now, luv...what’s on your mind? What’s that pretty lil’ head a’ yours thinkin’?”

You sigh.

“My boyfriend...or, my ex-boyfriend...we broke up for a reason. Or, well, I dumped him. We had been dating for almost three years, and I didn’t see it coming.”

“Crazy train crashed inta the station, huh?”

“He almost did. He...he had hit me before. I just didn’t say anything because I didn’t want him to get in trouble. But one night...it got really, really bad. He wasn’t even drunk. He was still in his work uniform. I stayed with a friend, and I told him it was over with a text - I was just so scared he’d find me. He knew my friends. He knew my address. And so I just wanted to find someone to protect me. It was more than just rebound...I just didn’t want to be alone. I wanted one person in my life he didn’t know so they could protect me.”

You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, but you bit them back. You didn’t feel like sobbing in front of your new boyfriend. Sniper, though, started laying down, taking you with him.

Your head was now under his chin, and you were laying all along his body. The sudden show of affection caught you off guard. You started to cry, burying your face in his chest.

Sniper wrapped his arms around you, supporting your entire weight easily.

Neither of you spoke for a good fifteen minutes, except for Sniper saying an occasional, “Aw, sweetheart...”

Finally, you calmed down, feeling safe in your boyfriend’s embrace.

“Y’know, luv...”

Sniper hesitated.

“I...could teach ya how to shoot. If it’ll make ya feel safe.”

You sniffle and look up.

“I know ya probably want some big, strong man to protect ya, an’ I will. God, if anybody even touches a bloody ‘air on your ‘ead, I’ll kill ‘em. But I wan’ you to go to the movies, or the store, or just ‘ave a nice walk an’ not be lookin’ over your shoulder. I wan’ ya to enjoy your life, luv.”

“I...I can’t shoot a gun...”

“Why not?”

“I can’t...aim or shoot...I don’t think I’ve even held a gun before...”

“Well, we can fix that! ‘Ere...”

Sniper leans over and picks up his old gun again, laying it in your hands. It’s a bit heavier than you expected.

You run your hands over the muzzle and barrel, not even daring to touch the trigger.

Sniper puts his hands over yours and guides them over the gun, giving you more confidence about handling the weapon.

“A gun is like...like a dog. You train it right, an’ you train yourself, you’ll be fine. You’re no kid, so you know ‘ow dangerous these can be. But fear doesn’t shoot the bullet. Fear doesn’ aim for ya.”

Every time you went to his apartment, he would do this. Sometimes you two would be talking, and he would nonchalantly hand you the gun, which, after a while, you took without thought.

Now it was time to take you to the range.

He gave you that old gun to use as practice, but promised a newer, more compact gun when you had gotten the hang of shooting.

Hands on your shoulders, hands over yours, he taught you how to target a person’s more sensitive areas.

Over the next few months, you grew better and better at hitting your mark. You weren’t perfect, but you could definitely defend yourself.

One night, Sniper went to go get you both Chinese food, and you were hanging out at your apartment.

You heard a knock on your window. You ignore it, thinking a bird had flown into it by accident. However, as the knocking grew louder and more insistent, you lift your head, startled.

It was your ex-boyfriend.

He was in a suit, but his face wasn’t nearly as neat. His eyes were red and wide, and his hair was messy.

He had walked up the fire escape to your balcony, and was leaning against the rail, relaxed.

You stayed inside, but you knew that the door was unlocked - he could come in any time he wanted. And he knew this.

He spoke, and you could hear him through the glass.

“Still single. Just like I thought.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off.

“I came back because I was worried. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you...I thought maybe something had happened. You were so depressed when you left. I couldn’t help but think that maybe...well, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re here, and I am more than willing to be with you again. I think we both have cooled off, right? We’ve had some time apart, and now we’ve realized we’re madly in love with each other and can’t be apart for another minute...”

“I have a new boyfriend!”

You blurted it out so suddenly you even surprised yourself. But your ex was unmoved.

“Oh, right. Sure. How much are you paying him, this boyfriend of yours? Do you have to pay extra for sex, or do you have a pity discount?”

“He...he’ll come back...and...”

You looked beside you. Your gun was laying on the floor beside you. Sniper had just taken you to the range, and you hadn’t had enough time to put it away.

You remembered what he said...

“I wan’ ya to enjoy your life, luv.”

You put your hand around the gun, grasping it tightly.

You swallow.

“Come back and what?” your ex jeered. “What’s your new boyfriend going to do? Beat me up?”

You are still trying to make your decision when you hear the glass door open.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, angel. I want to see your beautiful face.”

You whip around, the gun in your hand. Your ex immediately recoils, his hands flinging up.

“Woah woah woah...!”

“Please. Leave.”

Your voice is hoarse, but you try to sound as firm as possible.

“Even if I didn’t have a boyfriend, I would never get back with you. Ever. You...you made me feel so helpless, scared, alone...I can’t feel that way forever. I don’t want you to get hurt, but I want you to leave and never come back. Please. Just leave me alone.”

Your ex smirks, albeit shakily. “You can’t shoot that. You’ve never touched a gun in your life.”

“My boyfriend wanted me to be safe. He wanted me to be happy. He wanted me to be able to deal with creeps like you.”

You get up, gun still in hand, and your ex backs away.

“He did more than you ever did.”

“What, so you’re just going to shoot me? End up on the six o’clock news?”

“No. I won’t. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want you to leave. For good.”

“I bet that thing isn’t even loaded.”

You show him a half-full magazine and point to the fire escape.

“Like you know how to -!”

You quickly turn to a picture of a seaside landscape, shakily aim, and manage to shoot it, shattering the frame to pieces.

“Get. Out.”

Your ex practically runs out, yelling that he was calling the police.

Sniper comes back a few minutes later, and when he asks you what the hell happened, you start telling him between trembling breaths what had occurred.

Sniper turned bright red and tipped his hat down.

“That bloody wanker...fruit sellin’...”

He starts to walk towards the fire escape, but you stop him.

“I scared him off, please don’t...he said he was going to call the police...”

Sniper took a few deep breaths, calming down.

“We’ve got th’ best lawyers in the country. I’d like to see ‘im try.”

The police was never called - you think it was probably a pride thing, since you had overpowered him so easily - but you weren’t sure you had seen the last of him.

But with your own experience and Sniper’s, you had some piece of mind.

However, you were soon going to find out that Sniper had more power on his side than you thought...

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

Long time, no headcanon! Well, good headcanons, anyway. I rushed my last post, so I tried to go all out with this one. I might write a second part when headcanons are open again, but I think I prefer leaving some things up to the imagination, hm?

Anyway, more headcanons on the way! Same bat time, same bat channel! The next one is about siblings, though I may post shorter headcanons before that, since it’s such a fun idea to write.

[naturepointstheway]

Frozen - Domestic Assassin (Crack AU) Masterpost

This is a Masterpost of all the fanfiction I’d written (all on Tumblr) based in @ultranos’ Domestic Assassin crack AU which was hilarious for a fairly good-sized group of us! And from what I”ve seen in my notifications, people are still enjoying and finding fics of mine in this AU even to this day, which is great! 

I’ve basically dug into my previous fanfiction pages and pulled them out year by year, so because it’ll be way too much work to try and arrange everything by title, I just went by year. At least Tumblr keeps the links when I copy and paste. 

Since there are so many, you’ll find them under the cut. Enjoy! 

Pre-2016

Air Mattress Prompt  

An exhausted Anna returns home from a hot night with Kristoff only to accidentally make her sister fly off the air mattress when she flops down on it for a sleep.

“Am I supposed to be alarmed by the moon tonight?” prompt 

Elsa is so exhausted she gets confused between the sun and moon apparently.

“Can we please stop fighting and talk about the koala in your room?” 

Elsa adopted a koala, much to Anna’s exasperation.

“Can you pull this fake cobweb across the door?” Halloween prompt 

Anna wants to play a prank on Elsa...

Cell Block Sniper (M - violence and strong language)

Yes. Yes. It’s a crossover. A crossover between “Cell Block Tango” song from Chicago and this AU.

“Do you realise what this means?” “That you’re a really bad shot?” 

Elsa is NOT having the best of time trying to instruct a new trainee.

Domestic Assassin AU prompt: Hans’ POV (pre-reveal) 

Hans has a visit from Elsa when he dumps Anna. 

“Don’t touch that!” (Healthcare writing prompt, Snow Sisters) 

Elsa was bound to fall out of a tree at some point and end up in hospital. Anna takes care of her. 

Elsa and Weselton prompt 

Elsa refuses to let Weselton in the door.

Eyes That Glisten 

Anna knows how to persuade Elsa to do whatever she wants. 

“God you’re such a grumpy bags in the morning aren’t you?” 

Elsa is not a happy camper after a long night where everything just goes wrong. “Holy shit. Most realistic Dementor costume ever.” Halloween prompt 

Turns out, Elsa just looks like that most of the time.

“I can’t help being a geek about my vital signs!” prompt (Elsarik) 

A crossover between another AU (Shardsverse) 

“I don’t think I should tell you what we’re dressed as.” (Halloween Prompt) 

Somebody think of the children! 

“I dropped my cookie :’(” 

Elsa cries when she drops her cookie. 

“I feel like a T-Rex” 

Anna is too lazy to just grab the goddamn stepladder and get the jam herself.

“I wish I could drive you out of my life with a sword!” (Hans and Anna, prompt) 

Anna is NOT a fan of Hans...

“Maybe you should go as an assassin. Oh wait, you already are one.” (Halloween prompt) 

Anna is a sarcastic little sister to Elsa.

“No one unfollows like Gaston!” 

Anna overhears Gaston boasting about how he unfollowed someone because of a disability. She is not happy.

Ruined Dinner Party

After an hour of waiting for her sister to come to the party, Anna finally spots her with “ketchup” all over her top. 

Part 2 of “Ruined Dinner Party”

Of course it wasn’t ketchup. Duh. Anna is NOT HAPPY.

Sleepyhead (drabble, Snow Sisters) 

Elsa, going to the kitchen for midnight munchies, spots Anna sprawled on a couch, textbooks all around her. 

“So. Many. Triangles. Help me here!” 

Anna, not being a maths-y person, gets frustrated with geometry, and Elsa offers to help. 

“So you’re going as yourself for Halloween.” Halloween prompt 

Elsa is not keen on dressing up as Halloween.

“Tell our parents my Tumblr URL and I swear I will make your death look like an accident” prompt. 

Elsa practically threatens Anna when the latter demands to explain her Tumblr URL (of course she quickly forgives her little sis.) 

“That mask is all kinds of creepy. I like it.” Halloween prompt 

Elsa practically shits herself when Anna scares her while wearing a terrifying mask. 

Things you said at 4am prompt 

Anna gets a call at 4am on her phone from Elsa, who accidentally sniped the wrong guy..

Those Poor Birds 

Elsa mistakes a pair of birds’ mating antics as fighting, much to Anna’s amusement.

“Wait, you’re yelling at a movie?” (Snow Sisters, writing prompt) 

Elsa is very confused to find that Anna’s yelling from the lounge is at a movie. Not at an invader.

“Was it really necessary to shoot my pumpkin carving?” (Halloween prompt) 

Anna is NOT happy when Elsa decides to use her pumpkin carving for shooting practice.

“What do you mean it’s a sunset…?” prompt 

Elsa wakes up only to find that it’s already after sunset, not sunrise.

“What the hell? You gave out alcoholic chocolate to trick-or-treating kids?!” (Halloween prompt) 

Anna discovers that her German chocolates had been opened by Elsa, who’d handed them out to kids. 

“Where did you leave the spare copy of that book?” (Elsarik DA!verse, prompt) 

Crossing over with another writer’s AU with her OC, Alarik. Elsa can’t find that one specific book she needs, and she’s sure Alarik has it. 

“You once asked me what I’d do if I had only one day left.” prompt 

Anna will most definitely NOT be spending that final day of her life with Hans.

“You did what?!” prompt (Elsa and Kristoff) 

Elsa does not appreciate Kristoff’s concern over her having WAY too many cats for one house.

“You mean a line segment.” prompt 

Elsa is a huge geometry nerd, even waiting in line for takeaways.

“You should go as an assassin. Oh wait. You already are one.” prompt 

Another one where Anna suggests Elsa goes as an assassin for Halloween, only to be all “oh wait, you are one.” 

2016

Accidental shooting

Elsa accidentally shoots someone she did not mean to shoot in a library’s basement. 

Amuse Me

Elsa’s having one of those blah days and Anna’s there with bad puns all ready to go.

“Bittersweet and Strange” (not based on a prompt)

Elsa explains exactly how she likes her coffee to Anna. Turns out Elsa is also a huge fan of marmite. 

“Can’t I at least take this baby koala home?”

Anna, no, you cannot take a koala home from Australia, no matter how cute it is.

Cat Gallery (not based on a prompt)

Kristoff discovers Elsa’s huge photo album of her cats. 

“Did you lose your main point…”

Anna hears something about money and bills and wait what now.

“Do nurses ever fall asleep on the night shift?”

Anna visits Elsa in hospital and inevitably someone has to wonder this. Elsa’s adorbs when she’s pouty and Anna can’t help but annoy her on this count.

Fight Me

One sister challenges another to a fun boxing game. 

“How did you get these bruises?”

A crossover with another writer’s canon OC, Alarik (”Elsarik”) where he asks how she got some bruises while on the job. 

“How many cats are in bed with you?”

Anna marvels that there are nine cats in bed with Elsa. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to have the whole packet at once.”

Do not eat a whole bag of coffee. Do not.

I Have Found My People (not based on a prompt)

Elsa has discovered that certain Scandinavian countries drink the most coffee in the world and wants to migrate there right now.

“I know you don’t want this but it’s for your own good…”

Kristoff is rightly concerned when he finds that Elsa had thirty cups of coffee in 48 hours. Do not do this at home.

“I, uh, kinda dropped it in the water.”

Elsa calls Anna to tell her there’s an emergency: she dropped her wallet in the sea and all the fish now have her personal information. 

“I want a Venusian day…”

Elsa tries to explain to Anna why she would not want to live on Venus. Anna doesn’t give a fuck. More hours in the day what’s not to love about that?

Of Cat’s Paws and Adopting Stellar Systems (not based on a prompt)

Elsa is enthralled by a photo of the Cat’s Paw Nebula she has found on the laptop. 

Of Monkeying Around and Going Ape (not based on a prompt)

Anna comes home to discover that Elsa has adopted a monkey that had been neglected by its owner. Even Anna is almost (I said, ALMOST) tempted to keep the monkey but her common sense reigns. 

“Oh so you were in my bed this whole time?” (nsfw)

Dontcha hate when you’re in the middle of coitus and your goddamn cat has to interrupt you? (Elsarik, with another Frozen writer’s (@patricia-von-arandel) OC for Elsa)

“Once we start tickling, we can’t stop!” (nsfw)

Another steamy one with an old abandoned OC of mine (Jannike), where they find themselves having a quickie while the boss is away. 

Rubbish Day (not based on a prompt)

Anna is horrified to find a rubbish bag gone and trails of what suspiciously looks like blood leading outside. Turns out some meat thrown in there leaked inside.

“The best way to get rid of your ex…”

Anna didn’t think that Hans Westerguard would ever end up on Elsa’s targets to “take care of”. Until he does.

The One Time Elsa Caught Anna “Studying” (not based on a prompt)

Anna uses the mirror in the bathroom to practice distinguishing teeth for a medical exam. Elsa suggests alternatives. 

“What is this owl doing in our bathroom?”

Of course Elsa would adopt an owl and want to keep it in the bathroom. Of course.

“Who dances in the rain anyway?”

Elsa comes home to discover Anna dancing in the rain. 

“Why is there an otter in our kitchen?”

Anna comes home to find that Elsa has “adopted” an otter from a “client”. As you do.

“Why would you wish to be at a backpackers?”

Elsa and Alarik (Shards AU, Elsarik) decide to stay at a backpackers together for some private time. 

“Yes, yes the cold doesn’t bother you…”

Anna is not impressed with Elsa standing in the snow when she has a major cold.

2017

The Blood of White Men (not based on a prompt)

As Elsa’s favourite song goes, he had it comin’ all along. 

Is the Earth Broken? (not based on a prompt)

Elsa is confused about why the day she thought it was today...actually isn’t. She convinces herself the Earth has somehow broked. 

“It won’t be high tide you said…”

Elsa needs to learn that reading yesterday’s newspaper’s high tide times is not helpful. 

Kittens on Saturn (not based on a prompt)

Elsa hopes there’s actual giant kittens on Saturn after seeing a graphic manipulation on an astronomy news site.

Of Singing Humpback Whales and Rock Trolls

Kristoff visits Elsa in hospital while Anna’s busy with other things. It...does not go as expected. Poor Kristoff. 

“Proboscis Monkeys look ridiculous…”

Anna’s exasperation at Elsa rescuing a Proboscis monkey is still not so great that she can’t help but wonder what would happen if you honked their nose. Anna NO. 

“She’s going to kill you.”

Kristoff knows his days are numbered when he spills carrot juice all over Elsa’s brand new rifle. Uh oh.

“There’s a perfectly good reason for all these kittens.”

Turns out Elsa decided to adopt some kittens left on the side of the road when they’re already over-run with cats.

“This is extreme, even for you.”

Elsa is so addicted to her coffee she’s begun pouring them into wine bottles, as you do.

2018

Elsa brings home a parrot 

Anna discovers that Elsa has “rescued” a very large, very loud parrot from one of her, ahem, “clients”.

Elsa’s Back Up Cat, Mushu 

Anna discovers one of the cats apparently reading a book, and much to her consternation, Elsa explains he’s for back up.

“Oh what a circus!” photo prompt 

Anna takes her still-bewildered-after-five-coffees sister to the circus. This may or may not turn out to be a great idea.

[sunnixsunshine]

Sniper Headcanons because I'm bored and crave Oldman Shooty-shoots content

• Despite his tendency to be alone he actually craves attention from others. He's learned not to seek it and instead wait for it. His mother said "begging for attention is impolite" and has lived by that since he was a kid.

• He's a real mama's boy but you didnt hear that from me... >>

• Really loves cinnamon flavored anything. Cinnamon bread? Yes please. Cinnamon tea???? You'll have to pry the cup from his cold dead hands!

• Does really stupid Spy impressions with Scout.

• His French accent is awful but he can pull off an American accent surprisingly well; he just can't hold it for long because he'd crack up about it after five minutes. Especially if he's trying to copy Scout's accent.

• HATES doctors. Told Medic this the first day. Medic was surprisingly understanding of this— then forgot about it .5 seconds into the uber heart surgery. Now all Sniper can see whenever he has heartburn is that terrifying smile Medic had when his freaking heart was in the madman's hands.

• Has dressed in drag for a rare undercover job once. Does not regret it. He looked good in sparkling scarlet red.

• Terrible fashion sense. I'm talking awful. Ugly. God-save-this-man fashion. Old man fashion. Will wear suspenders and will be proud of it.

• Knows a bit of Māori. He learned it while on an extended job. Would like to learn more out of respect of the Māori people, just hasn't found the time to do so.

• He's met quite a lot of people as an assassin; either they were his victim, just some locals, or some one off partners. Despite getting to know an amalgamation of people, Sniper swears he's met Spy from somewhere else.

• Has never had the chance to actually play in snow. He had a job in London and was lucky enough see the first snowfall, which was also his first snowfall as well.

• Now in New Mexico, he was quite surprised to find it actually snowed there! He, Scout, and Demo all got out there and had a nice game of snowball fight. Sniper was even able to bury Demo in the snow before he woke up after Scout "accidentally" put a rock in his snowball.

• Really bad at poker and gambling. Doesn't stop him though.

• When he's drunk he often litters his speech with Australian slang. It confuses everyone more than Engine's or Scout's slang. Hell, Demo is more understandable when he slurs.

• Although sometimes he'd just randomly say it too, drunk or sober.

• "Hey, Snipes, you know what time it is?"

• "Its, uh, 40 past the arvo mate. Hey you wanna grab some grog later? Gotta pick up a new pack of durries in town, might as well have a cold one too."

• "Wh.... What?"

[starstainedtea]

DUDE P L E A S E POST YOUR WRITINGS OF BOMBER. i Cannot Get Enough Of Her. i am Heart Eyes. you know how pikachu says “pika pika” cuz that’s his name? i am saying “simp simp!”

okay that’s cute, thanks b!

now, now, let’s start with some dialogues that she has? sINCE YUH. MAYBE I’LL POST HER STORIES SOON I DON’T KNOW, MAYHAPS!

also, anything below the keep reading line is some of my HCS for her, but they won’t necessarily be canon. uNlEss-

BOMB weapons thermo bomb nail bomb smoke bomb collapsible fighting staff/glock

domination lines

scout;; — ooh, too hot to handle? (thermo bomb) — should've shot the nuts. (glock) — always on makin' noise, eh? (nail bomb) —ah, out of breath? let's keep it that way. (any)

pyro;; —let’s see what’s underneath that mask. (glock) —tsk, and those boys fear you? you’re *nothing*. (nail bomb) —i’d say something but your head’s blown to pieces. (thermo bomb) —what're you gonna do, burn me? (thermo bomb)

demo;; —go dump some alcohol for me. (thermo) —ooo, yikes poor man’s no more. (nail bomb- critical hit) —final round for you, sweetheart. (any)

sniper;; —a professional? please, i don't even need a scope. (glock) —always teasing me looking up, snipe.. your turn. (nail bomb) —your blood on the wall is such a turn on. (thermo bomb- critical hit)

spy;; —the french are the best at losing. (glock) —you make a competent cross-dresser! (nail bomb- cloaked or disguised) —sweet dreams, petit cheu fleur. (any; i don’t know how to do the thingies using a pc so deal with that, frenchies) —sorry ‘bout the head. ya only needed one anyway. (thermo bomb; critical hit)

soldier;; —time to retire, old man. (any) —outdated and pathetic, as expected. (glock) —going out with a bang! (thermo bomb) —here’s a dishonourable discharge. (any- bombs)

engie;; —final nail to your coffin, engie. (nail bomb) —now can i steal the guitar? (glock) —always too casual, yet under-qualified for the job. (any bomb) —guard your sentries better, sweetheart. (thermo bomb- critical hit)

heavy;; —i just wanna squish that dumb face- oh, nevermind. (thermo bomb) —your brain’s all over the place, and they say you don't have a brain. (any) —not my fault you’re such an easy target! (nail bomb- critical hit) —sorry... not so much. (glock)

medic;; —feelin' good, doc? (in a mocking german accent) (any) —always relyin’ on someone to protect ya, med. (any) —mad doctor? ya look like an underpaid dentist. (glock) —oops, trigger slipped! (any)

bomber;; —aww, how adorably *pathetic*. die. (nail bomb) —have a taste of acid, darl. (thermo bomb) —nice thighs. too bad you run slow. (glock or any bomb) (also a lie-) —i don’t know if it’s you or the bomb but that’s hot! (thermo bomb- critical hit)

tech;; —you lost your touch, mi.. amor. (glock) —shocked? don't be 'cause i'm better. (any) —you can't run away from me anymore. (thermo bomb) —we make a perfect match. in hell. (any)

taunts (bomb exclusive) — pick-me-up- lollipop and hip sways! lasts for five seconds. with sounds such as "nice!" "easy and sweet!" "suck on that, (class name)."

— fourth of july?- she pulls out a few firecrackers out of her pocket and lights it up using a lighter, tapping her foot as a few smokes build up before it all leaves out flying everywhere. "WHOOO! that's how we do it, amigos!" "kiss my arse, losers!"

— the kicker- a high kick like a russian dance, front and back with a somewhat smooth land. after regaining her balance, she flips her hair and puts her hands on her hips. (can be a partner taunt) "be scared." "aw, how sad." "that's right!"

— stack the craps- she pulls out a whole deck of cards and plays with it, a small grin on her lips. can be partnered. there's also a few playing tokens in her pouch falling. disappearing after the taunt as she sits down on the floor with a small 'yes' "it's like playin' with toddlers here!" "pfft, craps time." "i do not cheat."

— bitey bite- the bomber cackles and stomps around and then a stick appears and she acts like a rabid dog, running around to catch the stick with her mouth. "*growling.*" "grrr, chippers-" *coughing* "i think some wood went in my mouth!"

cheers — "we're killin' it, boys!" — "whooo, all in a day's work!" — "more than i expected from y'all." — "we're just better, blu/red!"

jeers — "what was that?" — "frickin' pathetic, guys!" — "you boys are just useless!" — "this is really ticking me off." —  "seriously, i wanna kill all of you."

revenge — "i was just testin' ya, now let's see if you can handle me." — "d'aw, que lindo de tu parte.." — "dominate this, ya defunct wannabe." —  "let's see if you're up for a duel." — "you and me, let's tango."

payload cart moving;; — "keep it goin', boys!" — "this oughta give us some more time." — "too heavy!" cart stopping;; — "andale! the cart won't walk to the checkpoint!" — "vamonos, god damn it!" — "ayy, boys! what's happening? cart's stopped!" — "vamonos, hombres!"

if you read this far, you get to see some domination lines of my other tf2 oc ;))

BUTLER DOMINATION LINES

scout:  - "leave the hit and run on me, pretty boy."  - "YOU'RE an offense class? bloody hell, i don’t remember scouting for ya."  - "you're making a fool out of yourself. go back home."  - "you're easier to kill when you're running, mate! re-evaluate yourself!"

spy:  - "amateur, a goddamned toddler wouldn't be so sloppy."  - "next time, watch the shadows, monsieur."  - "merci bijou, you've helped me sharpen my skills."  - "you should run back to your family," [there's a small chuckle before their voice drops] "-oh yeah, you left them in the first place."

soldier:  - "aaand the british strikes again."  - "your knowledge of war is in par with an idiot, sir!"  - "your country thanks you for an unwanted service!"  -"mr. doe, it's such a shame." [pause] "my suit is all bloodied."

[hellomelancholic]

Evil sniper tf2 voice. Sniping's a BAD job mate.

[lu-undy]

Hc! Theres days where Spy's scars itch. Hes uncomfortable on battle because of this. It isnt an itch you can scratch away, not really, the scar tissue is dense and he can get to she skin underneath it. Snipers job is to observe, so he notices how Spy squirms under his suit trying to make that itch dissapear, but its in vain. Sniper approaches his morethanfriend to see whats the matter. Spy is reluctant at first but he opens up to Snipes. Later dat day Snipes rubs some sorta thing on the scars.🐑

Alright, here we go, I hope you’ll like it :D

The Frenchman sighed and mumbled something in French to himself. It was summer and the habit of wearing a suit was less practical now, especially when topped with a mask. He was sweating beneath his attire… 

Him and his teams were in the respawn room and the battle was about to start. As the Administrator delicately sung the countdown, he lit a cigarette to take his mind off of what was truly bothering him. 

"BEGIN!" 

The gates flashed open and he watched his colleagues pour out of the room and into the battlefield. Spy cloaked and exited the room soon after.  He ran unnoticed, passing his colleagues and soon breaching enemy lines. 

He saw the Engineer setting up and upgrading a sentry in the back. He seemed alone and thank God, the nuisance that the enemy Pyro was was nowhere to be seen around the short man. That was his chance. Spy disguised as the fire spreading specialist and put a hand in his inner pocket. 

"Hey Pyro, need some ammo, pardner?" 

Spy hissed and shook his shoulder. 

Ah merde, not now…!

"Pyro…?" 

Merde!

The Engineer realised something was fishy with the way that his friend was holding his flamethrower. He raised his wrench and struck. Spy's disguised vanished. 

Beep-beep! 

The sentry rotated and the Frenchman felt like a rabbit flashed by a car light moments before impact. He knew he was done for. 

Click. 

Respawn was never pleasant. Not only did it leave a bit of a weird feeling, like a bitter aftertaste of death that your body somehow clings onto, but it also rhymes with defeat. Die and retry, as they say. 

The Frenchman lit a new cigarette and puffed on it aggressively. He was frowning and clenching his jaw. His annoyance was written all over his body and face. 

"Y'alright, pal?" 

Scout had respawned and put a hand on his colleague's shoulder. Spy shot him a murderous glance and wiggled his shoulder away from his hand. 

"Jeez, alright…!" 

The young man made sure his scattergun was reloaded and left the spawn room. Spy waited to see the distance between himself and Scout was large enough that he could tolerate it, and then exited himself. 

Part of his job was not to bump anyone and that day, he made it a point to stand away from everyone, friends or foes. The heat tired him and his failure at sapping a lonely sentry, barely defended, made his mood bitter. 

-- Evening, at the base -- 

"Putain de merde…" 

[Bloddy hell…]

The Frenchman was alone in his room. He had just exited the shower, wearing only a white tanktop and his pyjama trousers. He was standing in his bathroom, facing his mirror, an empty small cream box in his hands. 

What had been bothering him the entire day was the itch. 

He was used to it now. Whenever it was too hot or he sweated, one of his scars, the one on his right shoulder, would trouble him. It was a deep burn mark and the skin had healed up but the new skin wasn't as good as the "normal" one. It looked more transparent and felt different to the touch. But the most annoying thing is that that patch of skin was unable to deal with heat properly. Not only did it hurt when exposed to the sun - the same way a fresh burn would, only less strongly - but it could not possibly sweat or rather, humidity would form underneath a very thin layer of skin. It itched but couldn't be scratched away. 

Spy had been used to it. Whenever it bothered him, he would get a bit of cream there, to hydrate it and cool it down. He tossed the empty cream pot to the bin and got a new one. He opened it and took some of it on his fingers. Raising his eyes, he looked at himself on the mirror. 

The burn mark was large. He could see it when facing the mirror and he knew it spread back on his shoulder blade. Spy was about to put the cream on it when a knock on the door cut him. 

"Go to hell." 

He answered loud enough for whoever was standing there to hear him. 

"Well, I'm standing at its door apparently!" 

The Frenchman recognised that voice and the slight accent. 

Fine… 

He thought. Part of him was annoyed at the interruption. But it was only part of him. He put the cream pot back on the sink and slipped his mask and a dressing gown on. The Frenchman went to the door and opened it. 

"Bushman, how may I help?" 

Obviously, Spy was being sarcastic. 

"I was goin' to ask you the same, now, d'you mind…?" 

The Frenchman rolled his eyes and let his colleague in. The Australian entered and removed his hat. 

"Am I interruptin' somethin'? Do you want me to give you a minute?" 

Sniper was hinting at the fact that the masked man was in his pyjamas quite early.

"Non. It is fine. Just tell me what you want, I have very little patience for games tonight." He coldly answered. 

"Roight, let's sit and have one of your cigs." 

Both men took a seat on the sofa and Spy lit two cigarettes. 

"So, are you going to finally tell me what is it you seek with me?" The Frenchman sounded impatient and mildly annoyed. 

"It's how you behaved today." 

Silence fell for an instant. One of those awkward ones. 

"What about it?" Spy feigned innocence though he very well knew what Sniper was getting at. 

"I've watched you and you didn't seem normal. Also, you didn't sap the sentries as nicely as you usually do. And you got caught a lot more."

"And?" The impatience and boiling rage were very clearly visible on the Frenchman's face.

"And I want to help." 

Spy's eyebrows jumped. He had expected Sniper to tell him that he had been very bad at his job and asking him why. But non. 

"You want… to help?" He repeated. 

"Yeah. What's wrong with you? I've seen you actin' awfully weird, shaking your shoulder every other second as if you had something on it. I'm guessing something's on yer mind." 

The Frenchman's lips pursed up to a faint smile. 

"And you are wrong. Nothing is on my mind. And yes, I have been spectacularly mediocre today. Thank you for noticing."

"Spy, you don't have to take it that way-"

"Oh but I am."

"Spy, look-"

"Are you done?" The Frenchman dryly cut him.

Sniper didn't want to leave. He knew how stubborn and hard-hearted his colleague could be. But he said he would help and he would. He didn't go away from the comfort of his van for nothing. If confronting the masked man didn't work, maybe something else would. 

Sniper raised his hand and about to put it on Spy's right shoulder but the Frenchman slithered away even before the Australian could touch him. 

"Hey… It's only me." 

Spy raised his eyes and saw his friend's earnest face. He sighed.

"Fine. Here is what has been bothering me. But Sniper, one word of this to anyone else and I will make sure it is your last." Spy raised a threatening index finger. 

Sniper smiled softly. 

"Y'know me. I don't talk." 

Spy nodded. It was the force of habit… He put a hand on his dressing gown and pulled it down from his shoulder, revealing the burn mark. 

"Oh, Christ…" 

"I stopped invoking his help a long time ago…" Spy sarcastically answered. 

"Did you see the Doc' for it? Does it hurt a lot?" 

"Medic knows about it but there isn't much him or anyone else can do. I just live with it."

"When did you get it?" 

"A long time ago. I'm used to it. It's just when the temperature gets a bit too high, it itches in an unbearable way. I can't scratch it away." 

"Is there anything you can do to make it itch less?"

"There is a cream that I put. It's not a miracle solution but it lessens the itch and the burning sensation. I was about to put some before you came in." 

"Oh sorry mate, go and do it, I don't want to bother you." 

"Give me an instant." 

The Frenchman disappeared to the bathroom and re-appeared soon after with the small cream jar in his hand. He put the cigarette between his lips and removed the dressing gown before sitting down. Sniper couldn't help but stare. Spy was lean, maybe even a bit slim. His fair skin was beautiful.

"I can help you if you want." 

Spy raised an eyebrow. 

"I mean, surely you can't reach the rest behind your back…?" 

"Why, thank you. I think I will manage." 

"Okay." 

Sniper watched as his friend spread the cream on his shoulder. He massaged slowly, avoiding the tanktop. He hissed now and then, while the Australian tried to imagine how it could feel, the pain, the itch. He also wanted to feel that odd-looking skin below his fingers. But it hurt him. As if Spy wasn't cold-hearted enough, his own body worked to make him more bitter… 

"Spy, you're clearly strugglin'..." 

"Non, I'm not!" The Frenchman was irritated. 

"Hey…?" 

Their eyes met. 

"Let me try." 

Sniper extended his hand and offered his palm. 

"Fine…" 

Spy put the cream pot on it. 

"Makes you very angry this itch, eh?" 

"You cannot imagine how annoying it is." 

"Turn yer back." 

Spy's eyebrow twitched. 

"Nothin' to fear, I'm not the backstabber here…!" 

The Frenchman rolled his eyes and turned. 

"Now, remove yer top." 

"Bushman?!"

"It's only her back! And it'll make it actually easier! Can't put the cream where your top is, now can I?" 

Spy grumbled but obliged and Sniper was now facing the Frenchman's back. It looked like a abstract canvas of scars. Bullet marks, burn marks, cuts… He couldn't see it but the masked man was ashamed. He knew his body was bruised, awfully so. But Sniper's body was too, albeit differently. The man had fought more animals than men so he had more bites and claw marks than bullets or knife cuts.

"Don't hold your shoulders up like that, breathe and relax." 

"Had I been behind your back, you would react the same way, Bushman."

"Fair, but I'm not you. I don't kill from people's back." He spread the cream on the Frenchman's shoulder blade, trying to not push his hand too hard. 

"Non, you shoot them for far away." 

"A kill as clean as yours." 

"Correct. But my job is high risk for a high reward. Yours is more… safe."

"What?! No it's not! Do you know how much I'm bullied by the other bastard of a Spook?!" 

Spy chuckled. 

"Does that mean I am a bastard too?" 

Sniper's eyes raised to Spy's back of his head. The Frenchman turned his head slightly, waiting for his friend to answer. Each second of silence weighed more than the previous one. 

"Nah, no, you're not." 

"What am I then? I, too, am a Spook." 

"Oh yeah you are, no doubt about that… Nah, you're a Spook, but uh… You're fine." 

"Fine?"

Sniper chuckled nervously. 

"Y-you know what I mean…" 

The Australian had covered all the scar with the cream now. He put the lid back on the pot and closed it. 

"Do I?" Spy insisted with a smirk. 

The Australian smiled. 

"Yeah you do. You aren't stupid." 

Sniper was facing Spy's naked back. The Frenchman's shoulders were relaxed and he appreciated the breath of his friend on it. It helped cooling it down. The Australian handed the cream back to the Frenchman, from behind. 

Spy took the cream and Sniper's eyebrows jumped when he realised that he had also grabbed his hand and pulled on it. 

"I wouldn't have opened my door to anyone else." Spy said.

"I… Thanks." 

The Frenchman pulled on his friend's hand more and he felt Sniper's weight shift on the sofa, closer. 

"Non, thank you. I know I can be in a particularly foul mood sometimes. And I make myself hard to approach. Yet you remain." 

Sniper smiled and laced his arm around his friend's torso and pulled him in closer. Spy closed his eyes went Sniper's hug hit inside him. The Australian was hugging him from behind, resting his chin on his left shoulder. 

"Y-yeah. I don't know, I just think that… I mean sometimes you're a bit angry or sad. But you just need someone to be there for ya." 

Spy melted in his friend's arms. He felt the Australian's fingers lace between his. 

"I might sometimes." 

"Nah, you do, really." 

"What makes you say that?" Spy asked. 

"I can't see your face but I'm sure you're…"

"I'm enjoying this more than I can say, oui."

Spy turned his head to look his friend in his eyes. Sniper's pupils were wide and his smile, dreamy. The Frenchman's smiled widened as he pushed his cheek against the Australian's. 

"You should shave those sideburns off."

"In yer dreams. Also, why should I do that?"

"They sting me even through my mask." 

"Remove it and it will sting not through it then!" 

Spy turned his head again to look at his friend. 

"Well, I had to try…!" Sniper said.

"What makes you think that it is just a try?" 

Sniper got confused but saw his friend's hand rise from his lap and his fingers settle around his neck, at the base of his balaclava. 

The Australian never forgot that night.

[justthehiddleswrites]

Bah Hiddleston | Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Tamra Harmon) | Chapter 9 | Cold Feet On Christmas Eve

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Tamra Harmon)

Summary:  Tamra Harmon has no mind to mess with Christmas. All that talk about Christmas magic and the joy of the holidays is just a bunch of mumbo jumbo. But will a chance encounter with perennial Christmas lover Tom Hiddleston change all that?

This chapter:     Tom has to face Luke once again and where do they go from here?

Warnings for story: smut, oral sex, implied smut, vaginal sex, light angst

-

Tom tucked the phone into his pocket.

“Mum?! What on earth are you doing here?” Tom asked as Diana pushed into the entryway. She pulled a small suitcase behind her. “Planning on staying?”

Sweat broke out on Tom’s temples as his mother made her way to the living room. His mind raced on how to explain a young blonde woman making pancakes in his kitchen. Tom didn’t listen to a word his mother said.

“I didn’t want you to be lonely over the holidays.” she explained, the smile never leaving her face. “What is that delightful aroma?” She sniffed the air and headed to the kitchen.

“Mum, I can explai…” Tom started in as his hands ran his hair, a desperate attempt to disperse nervous energy.

Tom’s face dropped in shock as they entered an empty kitchen. Diana smiled as she turned to look at her son.

“Explain what, Thomas? That you have learned to cook something else for breakfast?” She gestured to the stack of pancakes and the plate of bacon.

“Eheheh, something like that.” Tom rubbed the back of his neck. Diana frowned.

“What are you hiding, Tom?”

“I’m not hiding anything.”

“Don’t lie to me, Tom. I recognize that nervous laugh anywhere.”

Tom opened his mouth to explain when the guest door creaked open. Tamra walked out, dressed in jeans and a sweater. She pulled her hair into a ponytail as she strolled down the hallway to smile at Tom.

“Now I see what you were hiding, darling.” she whispered at Tom as she pushed forward to greet Tamra. “Who is this enchanting young lady, Thomas?” she asked as she pulled Tamra into a hug.

“Mum, this is Tamra Harmon, she is a museum curator.” Tom responded, the color of scarlet rising from his neck to his cheeks and temples. Tamra suppressed a giggle. “Tamra, this is my mum, Diana Hiddleston.”

“Pleasure to meet you Diana. Tom has said such wonderful things about you.” Tamra smiled as she glanced over Diana’s shoulder to see Tom’s eyes pleading.

“I have no doubt he was charming. He has a tendency to do that.” she smiled up at him and Tom placed a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “Now how do the two of you know each other?”

Tom paled at the question and Tamra swallowed hard. Their eyes widened as they searched for an acceptable story to tell. Tom found his voice first.

“Tamra is a friend visiting over the holidays. She needed a place to stay, so she has been crashing here for a few days.” Tom blurted. Not lying to my mother, not lying. he told himself.

Diana’s eyes darted between the two of them, her eyes narrowed as she sized up her son, but she did not detect any deception. Or if she did, Diana didn’t let on. “Well I thought you might be alone during the holidays but I am glad to see you have company.” They both smiled. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

Tom nodded and followed her down the hallway. Once he settled her, Tom jogged back to Tamra and pulled her to his side.

“Where did you disappear to?”

“I heard the door open and hightailed to the bedroom. I thought it best. Once I heard you say it was your mom, I got dressed and then snuck into the guest room.”

Tom kissed her. “You are so clever. I adore you.”

Tamra’s stomach dropped for a moment but she ignored it. “Now about those pancakes…”

While Diana settled in, Tom and Tamra tucked into stacks of pancakes and pieces of bacon. Tom finished washing the last dish as his mom stepped out of the bedroom.

“So what would you like to do today, mum?” Tom asked.

“Oh I don’t want to be a bother. Just go about your day.”

“Well we didn’t have plans, did we Tamra?”

Tamra shook her head. “We could hang around the house.”

“Absolutely not! Thomas, you must show your friend all London has to offer.”

Tom blushed. “We have gone to several museums…” he pointed out.

“But there is so much more to the city than museums. It’s about the people. Thomas, you are being a bad host.” she scolded.

“Yeah, Tom. A bad host.” Tamra smiled as Diana took her hand.

Tom’s phone rang, he saw Luke’s name. “Excuse me for a moment.”

He stepped out into the hallway and answered the call.

“Never hang up on me like that!!” Luke’s voice boomed into Tom’s ear.

“When did we stop saying ‘hello’, Luke? My mother showed up.”

Silence.

“Oh, sorry, mate.”

“As you should be.”

“We still need to handle this photo business. Can you and Tamra meet at my office in an hour?”

“No. I can meet you in an hour, alone. I’m not abandoning my mother.”

“Are you sure it’s wise to let your mother have unfettered access to your brand new girlfriend?”

“Not my girlfriend.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Because it’s the truth.”

“People don’t sleep with their friends, Tom.”

“I’ll see you in an hour.”

“One hour.”

Tom hung up the phone and spun to find Tamra and Diana staring him down.

“Who are you meeting in an hour?” his mother asked.

“Luke. And I need to get dressed.” he gestured at his pajamas. “Can the two of you entertain yourselves for a few hours?”

The two women exchanged looks then gave Tom wry smiles.

“I’m sure we can handle ourselves for a few hours.” Tamra sniped back, adding an eye roll.

“Very true. We are not some damsels in distress.” Diana added as she placed her hand on Tamra’s shoulder. “Now get ready. You don’t want to be late for Luke. That man likes to yell.”

Tom gave a small chuckle and headed off towards the bedroom. Luke’s comment about the two women nagged at Tom’s psyche but he didn’t have the time to dwell. His mum was right, he didn’t want to be late.

He hurried through a shower and dressing before heading to the door.

“Perhaps I can take the two of you to lunch afterwards?” He asked as gave a quick peck to his mother’s cheek.

“Sounds lovely, dear. Just text us when you get done.” Diana said, shooing Tom out the door.

The door clicked behind him and Diana turned to face Tamra. She linked her arm with Tamra’s and led her to the kitchen. Diana opened and closed the cupboards, tsking the entire time.

“This will not do.” she commented as she closed the last cupboard. “What on earth have you been eating?”

“Take out.”

“Figures. I love my son, but cooking is not his strong suit. He knows how to cook exactly two things.”

“Spaghetti Bolognese and a full English Breakfast?”

“Precisely. Let’s head out for groceries, dear.”

“Sounds like a plan, let me grab my shoes.”

“I’ll be right here.”

Tamra took off down the hallway and not thinking entered Tom’s bedroom, which did not go unnoticed by Diana. She let a small smile cross her face as Tamra returned.

“Ready to go?”

Tamra threw on her jacket. “Yep.”

And they headed out the door.

-

Luke looked up as his secretary ushered Tom into his office.

“Well, this is a surprise. You’re ten minutes earlier.”

“My mother pushed me out the door.”

“So she can grill Tamra no doubt. If she ever wants it, your mother has a job here. Managing you.”

“She passed that torch to you, years ago.”

“You’re right about that. Now about Tamra…”

“Yes.” Tom replied with gritted teeth.

“Can we at least establish the term to all this relationship? Is she your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my—”

“I’m not here to argue with you, Tom. But I need you to be honest with me and with yourself. I can’t do my job otherwise. Is this love or lust?”

Luke stared Tom down across the desk. Tom squirmed in the chair. He looked down at his shoes, stained with wet and snow. Tom tugged at his sweater, fidgeting. Luke presented him with the question he wasn’t prepared to answer. And now he figured out the answer, he feared saying the words out loud.

“I love her.” he whispered, not looking at Luke.

Luke craned his ear towards Tom. “I couldn’t quite hear you. Perhaps you can speak up.”

“I love her, Luke!” Tom shouted, uncrossing his legs and standing. “Is that what you want to hear? I fucking fell in love like one of those cheesy Christmas romantic comedy movies. And I am a bloody mess.”

Tom collapsed into the chair, cradling his head in hand, rubbing his temple in frustration. Luke took a deep breath before asking his next question.

“Does she know?”

“No.”

“Does she love you back?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Are you going to tell her?”

“I don’t know Luke! I didn’t exactly plan on this happening. I’m flying by the seat of my trousers. And I would appreciate a bit of support right now!” he snapped Tom’s nostrils flared and his face flushed.

Luke placed his hands flat on his glass desk and rose to speak at the man now folded into a small office chair.

“I am here to support you. But first I need to do some damage control. Fortunately, there is nothing too scandalous in the photos. I believe the story of Tamra being an old friend visiting from the States will work. But be careful in public from now on.”

Tom nodded. “I am having lunch with Tamra and my mother after this.”

“That’s fine, but no romantic dinners out.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Any other edicts, oh Great One?”

“Yeah, stop rolling your eyes at me, Thomas. This is my job.”

“I appreciate your work. Now if you don’t mind…” Tom stood to leave.

Luke rose and met Tom at the door to his office. He placed an arm around Tom’s shoulders and pulled the tall man in tight.

“Tell her Tom.” Luke said with a serious tone. “Tell her before something happens, before you fuck it up.”

Tom’s head dropped to his chest. “Thanks for the support. If I wanted to be harassed, I could just call Benedict?”

“But then what you pay me for?”

The two of them chuckled and Tom left the office. The meeting ended earlier than expected and he wandered the streets by the Prosper offices. Luke’s last words rattled around in his brain. Tell her before something happens, before you fuck it up. Easier said than done, old boy.

If Tom were younger, he would make a grand public gesture, profess his love and hope for the best. But time and fame made him much more cautious with his heart. It was his only one, and he did not intend to give it away on a whim. And yet, with her sharp wit and no nonsense attitude, Tamra stole his it before he realized what was happening.

He smiled at the image of her curled in the armchair in his living room, book in hand and Bobby at her feet. It was the home he always wanted but felt out of reach. Now it stood within his grasp, his fingertips brushing against the fabric and he was scared. Scared in a way he could not describe. Not to Luke, not to Ben, not even to his mother. What if he fucked it up and Luke was right?

Before he could answer the question, a sharp pain to his shoulder jostled Tom back to reality as a fellow pedestrian hit against his shoulder as he drifted across the sidewalk. Tom stopped to get his bearings and found himself in front of a small jewelry store. A particular piece caught his eye in the window, and he entered the store, purchasing the item.

He pulled his phone from his pocket to text the address of a restaurant close to here to his mother and Tamra and then tucked the small box into an inside jacket pocket.

“It’s a start.” he said to himself as he headed off towards the restaurant with a renewed sense of purpose.

-

Diana and Tamra walked to a nearby grocery store. Diana asked her about her travel plans and her family. Tamra answered each question with a smile. She found Diana’s company pleasant and was at ease in the woman’s presence.

“And how long have you been involved with Thomas?” Diana asked as she pulled a trolley out for their groceries. She didn’t even bother to look at Tamra.

Tamra stopped dead in her tracks and stared at Diana who turned to look at her. “Excuse me?”

“How long have been romantically involved with Tom, dear? I wasn’t born yesterday and while my son is a very talented actor, I’m his mother. I notice things.”

Tamra’s mouth dropped open.

“Like when came out of his room with your sneakers? Or that the other spare bedroom was spotless except for your suitcase?” She raised her eyebrows in a very familiar face.

“Please don’t tell Tom you figured it out. It’s only been a few days. I’m not sure how all this happened!” Tamra pleaded.

Diana giggled. “Your secret is safe with me. Tom must care about you very much. His privacy is sacred to him.” They headed into the store.

“I care very much for him. He is unlike anyone else I have ever met.”

“He has that effect on people. You must be something special yourself to catch his eye.”

Tamra laughed. “I doubt that. He ran into my shoulder at the airport and then shared a table at tea. He pointed out the Christmas tree in Trafalgar Square.”

“He loves Christmas.”

“And chocolate.” Tamra selected a package of dark chocolate biscuits from a shelf.

“Always the sweet tooth.”

“And my feelings towards Christmas are… complicated.”

“How so?”

“My parents split up around Christmas and I associate the holiday with their divorce.”

Diana nodded. “Parents often forget the scars divorce leaves on their children. Especially when they hide them so well, like you and Tom.”

“Tom?” She furrowed her brow. “He mentioned you and his father divorcing, but he seems well adjusted.”

Diana laughed as she pulled some ingredients off a shelf. “He hides his hurt well. But even under those sparkling blue eyes and that dazzling smile, braces I might add, lives a nearly forty-year-old single man. Coincidence, I think not.”

Tamra stopped again. “I never thought about that.”

“Most don't, which is why…” She plucked out some meat from a roast dinner. “… you are so special. You make him want more.”

Diana moved to the checkout queue and Tamra chewed on her words. Was she special? Did Tom want all that? Could she make him happy? They were big questions with no easy answers and Tamra feared that.

As they returned to Tom’s house and opened the door, both of their phones beeped.

“Punctual as always. It looks like Luke finished his tongue lashing of Tom, and Tom is ready to meet us for lunch. Let’s head out.”

“Lead the way.” Tamra gestured.

“Tell me Tamra, have you had the pleasure of meeting young Mr. Windsor?”

“Yes, at a Christmas party a few days ago. Tom didn’t seem to like me and Sophie talking with Luke.”

“That’s because Luke knows all his secrets. As do I.”

“Anything you would like share?” Tamra linked her arm with Diana.

“Let’s see.” she said with a signature twinkle in her eye.

-

When Tom arrived at the restaurant, he found Diana and Tamra sat at the bar, laughing as though they knew each other for years.

“Oh dear lord what have I gotten myself into?” Tom asked as he came up behind them.

Tamra choked on her sip of wine. “Tom!” She gave a quick hug. “How did your meeting go?”

“Shorter than expected. You two seemed to be fast friends. Should I be concerned?”

“Nonsense, Tom. Tamra is a delight.”

“I particularly enjoyed your Mother’s stories about your childhood.

Tom paled at the thought. “Mother…”

She held her hands up. “Nothing scandalous, Thomas, I promise.”

The host sat them down at a table towards the back and before long, they ordered their lunch.

“Excuse me for a moment.” Tamra said as she walked away.

“So…” Tom started as soon as Tamra moved out of earshot. “… out with it.”

“Don’t know what you mean, Thomas.” Diana sipped her water.

“Come on, Mother. You have an opinion on everything. Now go ahead.”

“She is a lovely girl and a wonderful friend to you. She is something special.”

“But…”

“… but I am wondering if you already know that, Thomas.”

“No comment.”

“Have your secrets. But listen to your Mother. Treat this one with kid gloves. She is fragile.”

“She is stronger than anyone I know.”

“On the outside, but on the inside she is a breakable as thin ice. One wrong move…” her voice trailed off. “… I would hate to see anyone get hurt.”

“She’s just a friend.”

“Who is sleeping in your bed.” Tom’s jaw grew slack. “I promise I wouldn’t tell. Close your mouth, Thomas, she is coming back.”

The rest of the meal they engaged in light conversation. Tom and Tamra laughed at Diana’s stories and they told her of their adventures over the past several days. They both left out any mention of romance and only Tom noticed the twinkle in his mother’s eye.

-

After lunch, they returned to Tom’s. Diana shooed them out of the kitchen and they settle onto the couch.

“I will handle dinner.” she chided, pushing Tom into the living room. “It’s Christmas Eve. Enjoy yourselves.”

Tom flicked on the TV, settling on a comedy panel show. Tamra tucked into the crook of Tom’s side, fitting under his arm. Tom allowed his fingers to trace lazy circles on her arm. Halfway through, Tom turned to find Tamra fast asleep. He

lifted her in his arms before rising and settling her flat onto the couch.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” his mother asked as he strolled into the kitchen to check on her.

“Asleep. When did you figure it out?”

“I had my suspicions when I saw the pancakes but when the guest room was spotless except a suitcase, I knew Tamra wasn’t sleeping in there.”

Tom hung his head.

“I love her, Mother. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I do.”

She raised a hand to his cheek. “I never doubt your love, dear. But it is not me you need to tell. It’s her.”

“I’m not ready. What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I am just a fling? I couldn’t bear it.”

Diana laughed out loud. “You think too little of yourself, my son. And you are blind to what is in front of you.” She gave his face a soft pat. “Just use those words you love and all will be well. Now come help me.”

Tom smiled and nodded before tying on an apron to help with the meal. Neither noticed Tamra walk away.

-

After dinner, Diana saw herself to bed, leaving Tom and Tamra remained on the couch.

“Tomorrow’s Christmas. Don’t stay up too late or Santa won’t come!”

They both nodded before sneaking off to the bedroom.

“You were quiet during dinner tonight. Is everything okay, darling?” Tom inquired as he peeled back the layers of blankets to settle in for the night.

“Just tired.”

Tom nodded. “I won’t keep you up tonight, then.” He kissed her lips with a sweet tenderness.

She smiled. “Good night, Tom.”

“Good night, my sweet.”

Tom clicked the light off and settled against her, wrapping his arm around her, pulling her tight against his chest. Tamra let a single tear slide down her cheek as she drifted off to sleep.

-

Tom awoke the next morning to find Tamra’s side of the bed cold. He jumped out of bed, remembering today is Christmas. He fished the small box from the jewelry store and sought Tamra.

He found her note on the kitchen table. As he read the words, his eyes filled with tears and his hands shook. He lost grip of the box, which clattered to the floor. Its contents, a silver snowflake necklace adorned with small diamonds, laid on the floor forgotten.

“No, no, no!!” his voice broke as he begged. Tom gripped the table before falling into one of the chairs. His hands trembled as he held his head, tears flowing down his cheeks. A small but strong hand gripped his shoulders, shaking him.

“What’s wrong, Tom?” Diana asked, her brow furrowed and worry in her eyes.

“She’s gone… gone. She left.” he rambled, not focused on his mother.

She plucked the note from his fingers and sat down to read it.

My darling Tom,

When you read this, I will be gone. I can’t thank you enough my time in London. You made it special. But I am kidding myself to think you would ever fall for me. I am no one special and I can’t compete with your world.

I overheard you talking to your mother, who is a traitor by the way, saying you were not ready. I am sorry you felt pushed into this relationship. So I am removing myself from the situation to make things easier on you. I only wish I had the guts to tell you in person I love you. I love you in a way that scares me. And I believe I will always love you, even if you never love me back.

Tell Luke not to worry, I won’t say anything to the press. Thank you for letting you into your world however brief.

Merry Christmas,

Tamra

“Oh darling.” she held Tom’s hand giving it a tight squeeze.

“I fucked it up, Mum. She’s gone and I can’t fix it.”

“Nothing is over until it is over. There is always hope. I’m calling Benedict and Luke.”

“But it’s Christmas.”

“And you are in crisis. I’m calling them and then I am making us tea. I’m telling Ben to bring the kids and Sophie. We will need reinforcements.”

Tom nodded as Diana sprung into action. Tom remained seated.

“Do you think there is hope?” Tom asked, his voice hoarse.

“It’s Christmas. There is always room for hope and magic on Christmas.”