#I wanted to add the other mercs but

[sicc-nasti]

BIRTHDAY BOOOYYYY well technically it was December 22 but WATEVER WE CELEBRATE ON THE WEEKENDS ANYWAYSS Happy Birthday to the worst best mailman you could ever have the misfortune of knowing AND THANK U TO MY FRIENDS WHO DREW BDAY FANART OF HIM YALL ARE AMAZING

credits for their art below! 2nd- @/beepartcollection 3rd- @/junkbrainz 4th - @/vynvox

[formulaforza]

💐 hi my wonderful birthday girl !! so i was thinking about a dress coded lewis blurb (because i was born a lewis and ts girl) where they just get drunk together and there’s teases flying and stuff. keep it as brief as u wish <333

—you can take it off

lewis hamilton x merc!reader summ. thank you stephy i love u bad <3 inspo from... ur never gonna believe it... this. hope it's up to your standards my love. 2.7k (kind of got out of hand)

You were half-asleep and half-drunk the night of the Belgium Grand Prix. The air was cool, recycled like all air seems to be in hotels, smelled of too-strong perfume and was filled with the dull noise of elevator jazz. What had begun as a before-we-go-to-bed night cap in the hotel bar with Bono had turned into a seemingly never ending addition of guests. 

Valtteri was first to join—never could pass up the opportunity to give you shit, to offer you job postings at Alfa Romeo that weren’t job postings at all—and with him around, there’s no casual drinking. You don’t try to keep up, not really, because you know you don’t stand a chance, but also because he would never let you. After all these years of being just a few months younger than him, he still calls you kiddo, still promises to call your parents when you’re out after dark, and always sends you a text after a race with some… questionable strategy decisions you’re catching flack for online. 

A brief appearance from Toto and Susie, just long enough for them to know they had no business trying to go drink for drink with Valtteri, and then they’re wishing all three of you a wonderful summer break and retreating to whatever room is considered prestige enough for Motorsport’s it-couple. 

And then there was Lewis, the last to arrive, who never called you kid, who never viewed you as one. He sits adjacent you in the red, high back leather booth and takes up a seat and a half, the toe of his shoe brushing against the side of yours, flashing you apologetic puppy dog eyes every time he bumps against yours. 

It’s somewhere between drink number five and six that Lewis gets his first, insists on a toast to the summer break that officially began… six hours and fifty-three minutes ago. For a long season this and a too-short summer break that, you lot had a mouthful of things to complain about, but a million more to be grateful for. “To not having work for a month,” Lewis proposes, clinking his glass against yours, offering a quick wink and holding it up properly over the table. 

“To no racing-talk for a few weeks,” Bono adds, clinking his glass against Lewis’. 

“To summer-fucking-break,” Valtteri chimes in, laughing at himself before the rest of you get the chance to match it. 

“To summer fucking break,” you repeat because you know there’s no better way to sum it all up. 

Unlike the other two, you slowed down when Lewis joined, wanted to give him time to catch up, to give yourself time to meet him somewhere in the middle. A glass of water and a virgin rum and coke and another water and the night is still young. 

“First summer break as the big boss, kiddo,” Valtteri remarks, and you have to squint to hear him through the alcohol-induced thickening of his accent. 

“That’s right!” Bono laughs. Your cheeks run hot at their mention of your title, of your promotion following James’ departure earlier in the season. Lewis smiles against the rim of his glass, bumps his foot against yours and doesn’t give you apologetic eyes. No, he raises his brows so slightly you think you’re the only one that notices, which is probably exactly the way he intended it to be. “Little miss queen of strategy is making the big money now, got any big travel plans?”

Lewis clears his throat, and your eyes dart over to his almost instinctively. “You’re staying in London, yeah?”

He’s right. Your summer-break plans consist of four weeks of trying to remember what it feels like to do nothing, failing at that task pathetically, and spending the rest of the time meticulously picking apart every call you’ve made all season and imagining the million and one things you could’ve done differently and their billion and two outcomes. 

You pick apart the drink napkin, tear it into tiny little pieces. “Yeah, yeah. Just staying home, catching up with friends and family,” you clarify, try not to sound as pathetic as you feel. It’s hard not to when you’re sitting next to the guy who spends his offseason snowboarding in Antarctica with his celebrity friends and his weeks off traveling to Paris fashion week for front row seats next to supermodels. Anything you say would sound pathetic to someone who makes thirty-five million a year. 

“I love it,” he nods, stares right through you and into your soul so you know he’s being genuine. “That’s awesome.”

You nod, swallow hard, purposely angle your body away from his, to the rest of the group. “What about you guys?”

Lewis laughs, soft, quiet, completely under his breath. The kind of laugh that deserves to be bottled into a jar and kept on a shelf for safe keeping. You know he’s always laughed like that, even before he knew you, but in the last few months it just feels different. Good different, like he’s laughing just for you now instead of everyone else too. 

You know you’re crazy, that he’s just Lewis being Lewis and you’re just single for the first time in a long time and also drunk. Not half drunk anymore, just drunk—even if you do think you’re meeting him in the middle, you’re not. He’s just chasing after. 

“Back home, too,” Bono concludes. “Take a breather, might head up to the country with the family.”

“You’ll take pictures, yeah?” Lewis asks, starts to pick up the pieces of your napkin tear pile and move them in front of him like a kid who isn’t patient enough to share or destructive enough to rip up his own. You watch in your peripheral, the way he fiddles with the wet paper, gets it stuck to his fingertips. You can’t laugh, so you don’t, but you want to. You think he knows you want to. 

Bono scoffs, nods while swallowing a sip of his drink—something dark, something pungent. Not what you would have pegged him for ordering, even after knowing him as long as you have. “So I can compare with the likes of you lot and,” he turns to Lewis, leers around you to emphasize the eyeline, “your million dollar vacations or,” and then the other way, back to Valtteri, “your olympic cycling events?”

Valtteri smiles, swirls his drink—gin, you think. Expensive. “Yes.”

“No chance.”

“I’ll be sure to send you a picture of me having a meltdown when I think about our side pods from the beginning of the year,” you chime in, because it’s not like they all don’t know you well enough to know exactly what you mean by spending time with friends and family at home.

 “What sidepods?” Lewis chuckles.

“Fucking exactly,” you add, mirror his mannerisms without even realizing it, all the way down to readjusting in your seat when you’ve had your laugh. 

“Could be worse,” Bono offers. “Could be last year.”

Lewis nods, holds his drink up in the direction of Valtteri across the table. “We never should have let you leave.”

He smiles, weak, lips  pursed. “I could have told you that.”

The night continues on, all drinks and laughs and yawns, occasional remarks that it’s about time I head up, followed by another round, another joke, another comment about this, that, or the other thing. 

You’ve always liked Lewis when he’s a little tipsy. He lightens up a bit, you can actually watch the stress drip from him like sweat, all the titles and the wins and the losses, they all just fall away when he’s relaxed like this. You’ve always liked him like this. Always. Before he was king of the world and before he was the prodigal son and every moment in between. 

After every joke he makes—or, after every comment he makes that he thinks could be considered a joke—you find yourself laughing, because it’s Lewis and you have a crush on him and of course you do. And, without fail, everytime you laugh, he winks, like you’re in on some inside joke even though he’s making it to the whole table, like there’s some double meaning to all of his words that are meant just for you, just for the two of you to understand. 

Somewhere in it all, it comes back to Lewis, because, well, it always does. “Is your back still bothering you?” Bono asks, and you think you already know the answer. You think you know, because you can’t remember the last time you;d seen him take careful consideration of his posture when he sits. Not even now is he sitting up straight, with his legs perfectly spread a shoulder’s width apart and his feet flat on the floor. Instead, he’s taking up more room than he needs to, all relaxed and comfortable on the leather booth bench. 

He swipes his thumb over the  condensation of his glass, looking up from the action at you, and then to Bono. “No, no. All good there.”

“All good?” Bono prods, because he was on the receiving end of a year and a half of complaints from Lewis.

Lewis nods, clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “No Paracetamol in a month.”

Across the table, Valterri chimes in. “None?” 

“None for my back,” Lewis says, and the whole table laughs. You just watch him, though, because who laughs better than he does? You could wax poetic about it without a second thought, the way that his lips upturn and his cheeks round and his eyes crinkle and go soft in a way that makes you feel like you’re the funniest person in the world even when you’re not making a joke. The way that his smile is brighter than anyone’s you’ve ever seen, and the way that if you look at it for too long, you think about how it would feel to run your finger along the gap in his teeth. 

“That’s what I thought,” Valtteri mutters off the end of his laugh. “You're getting old.”

“Not too old to make half a million.”

The entire table’s heads fly to him. You gasp, an embarrassingly wide smile on your face. “You didn’t!” You almost yell, smacking his upper arm with a weak hand. 

He mocks your gasp, makes it somehow more dramatic and over the top and laughs sweetly, shrugging your hand off his arm and letting his hand fall to your leg, bumping your foot with his again. “I didn’t.” The table chuckles, you pout, and then you realize that his hand is on your thigh, that it’s staying there quite comfortably, and that you mind it less than he does. 

“Don’t be a tease,” you sigh, take a swig of your drink. Your knees are suddenly weak, like you know you wouldn’t be able to stand up if you wanted to. It’s like he can sense your change but can’t quite read it, because then he’s moving his hand back to his own lap, interlocking it with the other and resting it there.

 He nods, suddenly shy, suddenly guilty. “It’s as good as done.”

Valtteri laughs. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.” You hear what he says, but you’re not listening, not really. Lewis stares into you like he wants to look anywhere else—apologetic eyes and a fear he’s taken a misstep. He hasn’t, you want to tell him. You haven’t, put your hand back, please. Silently, you try to convey what shouldn’t dare be spoken. “I’ll believe it when pen is on paper.”

He snaps his eyes away from you, back to Valtteri. You don’t follow suit, stay fixed on him, on trying— hard—to get your message across. “I’m telling you, they’re announcing it after the summer break.”

“Whatever you say, Mate.”

Bono nods around a mouthful of alcohol, sets his half-empty glass down with an incidental thud. “Who’s to say we still want your geriatric ass?”

Lewis raised his interlocked hands from his lap, to the tabletop, resting his elbows on the wood grain and rattling the empty glasses when he does it. He leans in towards the center of the table, even though the only person separating him and Bono is you. “Would you tell Schumacher ‘no?’”

“What was that?” You ask, your words a convenient excuse to lean in closer, to settle into a spot that much closer to him without raising any brows. To brace for the shift, you leave your hand on his thigh with less subtly than your original movement, but it’s okay. It’s okay—only Lewis knows where your hands are, and you don’t want it to be subtle, don’t want anything to be lost in translation. “I can’t hear you over your ego,” you smile, and your fingers dance up his leg just a few, careful inches. 

He drops back into his seat, drops his hands back into his lap. Under the table, he grabs yours and laughs, but it’s stifled, stunted, not quite relaxed. “Very funny,” he humors, and moves your hand back. His stays too, though, and he crosses one leg over the other under the table. His thumb moves over the fabric of your slacks in shudder-worthy circles. 

“Someone’s gotta check you,” you smile, nod in the direction of your tablemates without ever looking away from him. “These two won’t.”

Bono scoffs.“Are you kidding?”

Your smile grows. “How do you want me to answer that, Peter?”

“Damn,” Lewis laughs so hard he coughs. “She Peter-ed you. That’s cold.”

“You’re the one comparing yourself to Michael fucking Schumacher,” Bono scolds. 

“I didn’t say that, but,”

“But!” You interject. 

“But,” Lewis laughs, threatens to continue even though all at the table know he won’t, knows that no matter how often the media and the girlfriends and the friends and the family tell him he should put himself up there with the greatest, he’ll never quite see himself in the same light. “But it’s about time I head up, I think.”

“Ah, see,” Valtteri chuckles. “Old man Hamilton can’t hang.”

“No, he can not,” Lewis remarks, pulling his phone and his hotel keycard from his pocket, setting the latter on the table and if you were feeling a little crazier than you are, you’d swear he nudges it ever so slightly out of his bubble and into yours. He types away rapidly at his phone, and you try to pay attention to the jokes Bono and Valtteri throw around, the pokes at Lewis they make, but suddenly you’re feeling like it’s a good time to head up, too. You try to shake the crazy, to leave it with your backwash in the final sip of your drink, and you do. You do.

You do, but then he’s slipping his phone back into his pocket. He’s leaving his glass just beyond his keycard and telling you to feel free to finish it. He’s saying his goodbyes while he moves out of the booth and his hotel room key is still sat on the table next to you. It stares at you—the hard, thin plastic. Stares at you in its white paper pocket with the intricate printing of the hotel label and dares you to look at him when he walks away. 

You do, begrudgingly, subtly, and his eyes are already on yours. They’re expressionless, and yet, say so fucking much. You hold the remainder of his drink in his direction before downing it in a single gulp and then he winks at you. He looks at his keycard on the table, and then to you, and then he winks, and you’re sure you’re absolutely crazy. 

You swallow. 

“Oh, fuck,” Bono says, reaches over you to grab the keycard from the table. It’s like you were zoned out and he snapped in front of your face, the way it pulls you from Lewis to the table. “He forgot his key.”

“Oh,” you squeak, and then louder, “I can take it to him.”

“No, no, It’s okay,” Bono says, and he makes you stand up to get out of the booth. “I should be heading up anyway.”

“Really,” you half-insist, trying to convince him you can handle it without letting him in on why you’re convincing him. “It’s no problem.”

Bono pulls out his wallet, flips through the pockets of it and fiddles with his bills. “Our rooms are right by each other,” he insists, tosses his share onto the table. “I got it.”

“Okay,” you nod, accept your defeat. “Yeah, I should be heading up, too, I guess.”

[miloformula123fan]

Could you do fic for Toto Wolff with wife reader? He opted to hold her hand during the celebration of the Merc's double podium because there were too many people. "Move through the crowd while holding hands so as to not lose one another – and not letting go afterwards". Just something fluff and comfort. Add something if it's not right. Tag me later!! Thanks :)))

sorry it's so short! but I loved writing this fluff, and honestly churned it out in like 1 hour.

also if you have older requests i am working on them, I am just also working on school work.

luckily, all my assessments are nearly done, and holidays are next week so yay! more updates :)

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

toto wolff x wife!reader

“AND THAT IS A MERCEDES 1-2 TO THROW THIS CHAMPIONSHIP WIDE OPEN AT THE SAUDI ARABIAN GRAND PRIX AND 3 YEARS AFTER WINNING HIS LAST GRAND PRIX HERE, LEWIS HAMILTON HAS WON HIS 104TH CAREER VICTORY AND WHAT A WAY TO DO IT IN HIS LAST SEASON WITH MERCEDES.”

The rest of Crofty’s speech was drowned out by the cheers of the garage around Y/N as the team who had gone so long without winning, especially Lewis’ side of the garage cheered and yelled and as the pit mechanics came back from where they’d been on the fence yelling and contributed to more noise.

Y/N felt a little overwhelmed. She hadn’t really been in the garage since 2021, due to her husband’s tensions during the year and her wish to continue to just focus on her own career. She tried to insist she was the team’s bad luck charm after Abu Dhabi, until people had pointed out that she’d also been there during the dominant 2020 season. And as she had spent 2022 and 2023, which also were not great years for Mercedes, she’d agreed to do a lot more of her work remotely and come to the grand prixs. She insisted that she was bad luck at the first grand prix, and Toto had basically dragged her along to Saudi.

Maybe she was their good luck charm, she thought, as the garage exploded when Max and Sergio had crashed into each other, making both the red bulls retire. The Ferrari’s had been having problems all weekend but no one truly hoped even when they were sitting in a 1-2.

At least until they’d crossed the line. And then they’d had hope. And then the celebrations had begun. Someone had already found champagne and begun spraying it around, no one thinking about the podium, until all of a sudden everyone was and they were all rushing around and Y/N was all caught up in the rush and being pushed around by everyone, trying to find Toto until she felt a hand slip into hers.

She jumped back, not wanting some strange man holding her hand until she looked up and realised that it was in fact her husband who was trying to hold her hand.

“Sorry…didn’t realise it was you.”

“That’s okay Liebe. I’ve got you. Now lets go watch Lewis on the podium, okay?”

The second she nodded in agreement, Toto slipped his hand back into Y/N’s as he tried to push through the crowd again. Being tall and the team principal helped, and as they weren't coming for the pre podium celebrations, which is where everyone else was rushing towards. As the drivers were hugged and yelled at again by the mechanics (honestly how were they going to have voices tomorrow, and how were the red bull mechanics’ voices not very raspy after doing this practically every week for the past few years). Y/N thought she was going to have to cancel her meetings for the next few weeks as she would just be unable to talk.

Toto pushed through the throng of mechanics, pushing through the Mercedes and Williams colours everywhere, trying to get a good position at the front, and then the announcers began, and Toto and Y/N were wedged against the barrier and they decided to stop and watch the podium.

Y/N watched as Albon mounted the podium, grinning to the feral screams of the Williams mechanics to her left. She’d ended up wedged between James and Toto, smiling at James’ excitement on Alex being on the podium. She smiled at him as the noise from the Williams side of the podium celebration. He smiled back, almost bouncing up and down by the excitement of what Williams was achieving. And as Lewis, George and Bono bounded onto the podium, bringing up a round of screaming and even Y/N raised her hands. And as she raised her right hand, she could feel Toto’s hand, still intertwined with hers. She smiled, locking eyes with Toto.

His eyes twinkled as he smiled down, before his attention was brought back to the podium and yelling at the drivers.

The German and British anthems blared out, and while Y/N knew most of the words of the British anthem (it was mostly just the same words on repeat ‘god save our king’). And while Toto was able to sing the German anthem while Y/N butchered it here and there. She loved listening to her husband singing or talking in his natural language. It was very hot, if Y/N had to admit it.

As they left the podium to go back to the garage, Toto had still not let go of her hand as they continued winding between what felt like millions of people crowding the pit lane.

When they finally returned to the Mercedes garage, and walked up to Toto’s office, Toto finally let go of Y/N’s hand and started to gather up his work and laptop to get ready to return to the hotel.

“Hey, toto?”

“Yes liebe?”

“Why were you holding my hand?”

“Well, I didn’t want to get lost, and I didn’t want you to get lost, liebe.”

“Yeah, but why didn’t you let go of my hand when we got to the podium”

“Do I need an excuse to hold your hand, darling?”

“No but…”

“Then I kept holding your hand because I wanted to keep holding your hand. Is that a good enough excuse?”

“Okay Liebe.”

Toto put all his files and laptop in his left hand after shrugging on his overcoat, and then offered his right hand to Y/N.

“Can I keep holding your hand liebe?”

“Of course you can darling.”

---

taglist: @leosxrealm, @pear-1206, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3

[thisismeracing]

King of my heart | extras | Mick defending Yn from a mean journalist

Summary: Mick has media duties with Mercedes this week and one of the tasks happened to be a podcast interview with a new F1 show. They also happened to mention Yn, but Mick did not like the way they talked about her, and he wasn't about to let someone downplay her during a live interview, not in front of him.

Word count: 1.4k (got carried away again, sorry lol)

A/n: @flowerchild-96 sent me this idea, bringing up a scenario about Mick defending Yn. I did some adaptations, and voila, here you go, yet another Komh extra. I hope you guys like it, even if it's a bit different from the original idea. And thank you, Flower, for requesting this piece <3

A/n2: This is set when Mick and Yn are already together.

A/n3: This can be read as a stand-alone, but it's better when you've read the series.

Warnings: curse words; angry!mick; typos - not proofread.

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Mick is tired.

He’s been doing Sim work every spare time he got, and some days it went as far as him staying until after midnight in the factory. Add this to the fact that he hasn’t been seeing Yn that much, she’s been busy with work as well, and most of the time they’re getting are during the weekends when all eyes are on them.

No-Yn and no sleep have proven to be a very stressful combination, so maybe that’s the reason why he found himself trying as hard as possible not to be rude or dry on his answers. It was work, it doesn’t matter if he had been asked the same question thousands of times, just the other day, or the minute prior, he had to answer it as if it was brand new, and he had to be polite, that last part was on his nature. 

However, defending those he loves is also in his nature, and Mick's ears perk up when one of the guys, Jack, mentions Yn.

He doesn’t know how the guy managed to bring her up when the topic was cars and the last performance Mercedes had, and Mick tries his best to keep his expression neutral, first because he doesn’t want to be rude, and second, because it’s a live podcast. The cameras are on him, just like the big microphone is in front of his face, half of the fans are probably watching the live, and the other half that is not will surely watch it soon. They will analyze every move he makes, and the last thing Mick wants is to bring more attention to his family and friends. 

“We saw recently that Lewis’ sister is attending races as well,” that itself was already problematic considering they had just talked with the Merc media manager and she listed the subjects that could not be brought up, Yn was there, of course. She didn’t want that kind of attention, and everyone always did their best to keep her safe and respect her wishes. It was even more infuriating when Jack kept going, “Do you think she distracts the crew by being in the garage? Would you say she’s a liability to Lewis or more like a lucky charm?” 

Oh, and didn’t Mick finally understand the saying “he was so angry, he saw red”, because he quite literally had to close his eyes after the whole question was sputtered. 

How the fuck did that guy came up with such a shitty thing to say? 

Mick saw how the second host was embarrassed for his mate, he saw the way the Mercedes PR manager eyed him a bit taken aback, he saw and heard everything, yet his mind did not think twice before putting his body to action. His brows furrowed, the blank expression he had quickly turned into one of unlucky surprise and anger.

“Excuse me?” Mick eyed the mand up and down before letting out a humorless chuckle. “Is this supposed to be a bad joke or?” 

“I was just thinking, because Lewis’s sister is-”

Mick interrupted before Jack could go any further and make him angrier, “I think the first problem with your question is that you keep referring to Yn as “Lewis’ sister” when she has a name and had a career before their relationship as siblings were outed in the media. It is stupidity to resume her as Lewis’ sister and only that. Yn is a talented and famous business woman, she has her own brand, and she made her connections without needing to use her surname,” he’s so angry he could go on all day, he sees the way the Mercedes PR seems to struggle on what to think about his words, sees the way Jack starts to get red, and franquily Mick just wanted to tell that guy to fuck off and leave that interview, but he had to make his point clear, and he would defend Yn. To hell with media and the outcome of it all. So mick went on, “Yn was Yn before Lewis. It’s different with me because I came after my father, we were tied since forever, and everyone knew it, but Yn got famous without anyone knowing she had Hamilton bloog, she used her mother’s name, she kept herself from publicly interacitng with her brother and celebrating all his wins, she sacrificed a lot, so don’t come to me and talk about her erasing all her work and effort to get where she is now. Put some respect on her name.” 

“You seem a bit stressed about the way I voiced it, I’m sorry.” 

“Of course. We’re talking about my friend, and even if she wasn’t a friend, it’s insensitive to talk about someone like this in a live broadcast when that someone did nothing wrong and it’s not even here to defend herself.”

Jack coughed a bit embarrassed, and the second host could only smile awkwardly, “We’re really sorry, Mick. Jack just happens to be a huge Lewis fan so it’s always ‘Lewis this and Lewis that’ he ends up forgetting everyone else,” he gulped and tried to downplay it.

Mick directed his narrowed eyes to his water bottle, opened it and took a swing before nodding briefly. He was done with that interview, and he knew everyone else were too. It only took three more questions, not so rude as the last one – thankfully, for the podcast episode to be finished. He kept his cool, but Mick knew his expression was probably still uninterested and annoyed, his body language sure showed how his guard was up, arms crossed on top of the table, head tilted as if waiting for Jack to try and mess with his girl again, as if silently daring them to even mention Yn’s name. 

When it was over, Mick had a brief talk with the Merc PR who told him that she personally loved how he stood up for Yn, and reassured him that they would work a plan so that the podcast interview didn’t spill more on Yn or him.

The drive to the hotel was quick, however, his head was pounding, his body tense, it was as if his tiredness had doubled the size after the events. Immediately upon getting inside the elevator he decided to go to Yn’s room instead of his, Mick did not take the time to think that maybe she was sleeping, or busy, at least not until he buzzed her room. Just as he was aabout to pretend he never set a foot on her floor, Yn opened the door. 

“Hey, mouse,” she breathed, a small smile in the corner of her plush lips. 

Mick felt his body melt, half of its tension dissipating with just one look at her angelical face. Yn was wearing one of his shirts, part of her curls messily tied on top of her head.

“Hey,” he faltered, still not sure if it was the best idea to ring her bell without a warning. 

“Are you gonna keep staring at me?” Yn bantered, reaching for his hand and bringing him inside before closing her door. 

The hotel room smelled like her. Her perfume, her lotion, her hair products. Mick closed his eyes, took another deep breath trying to see if the her scent would caml him a bit more. 

“I’m sorry-”

“It feels nice to be your friend-” 

They said at the same time and it was a only a beat before both were laughing. Yn’s word were clearly a joke about how he said she was his friend. She had watched everything, and she didn’t seem mad about his outburst. Mick felt partly responsible for how the media was digging up her life after they were seem together, and he knew this interview would probably give them more amno to keep going about “mickyn”, he was relieved Yn seemed to pay no mind to it at the moment. 

“I think I talked too much out there, I’m sorry, babe,” Mick started, but Yn shook her head. She got on her tip toes, hands going around Mick’s neck, his face now only inches from hers.

“Thank you for standing up for me,” she whispered, and he gripped her waist bringing her body close and hugging her, his head on the crook of her neck, her hands playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. “It’s great to be friends with you, just please make sure I’m the only one who can do this,” Yn joked when Mick faced her, and smashed their lips together in a tender, but also giddy kiss. 

taglist: @sachaa-ff @mellowpizzapuppy @ferrariloverr @kenanlotus0 @mickslover @Dalsuwaha @formulakay3 @mishaandthebrits @crimeshowjunkie @iloveyou3000morgan @fdl305 @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo

[maisartcraft-blog]

hopes for valve to figure out a way to fix everything with the bots, from my understanding a rather big piece of the current player base is bot users?. I mean I feel a bit worried if that is being the case it could harm steam at the long run, I mean both taken how there is an tendensy to more steam games there been added there have a rather lagging amount of quality, as well as not having solutions for some of the games there add value to steam like tf2. I only have a steam cause of tf2 cause I buyed the orange box multiple years ago because of tf2 was on it, cause I heard it was a good game, I mean heck the first pc I had could barly run it and was shared (yes I know basicly a toaster can run tf2 with speaks to how bad that pc was) but I still loved the game the game have always been more than just a game to me, it gotten me though some dark times in my life. I love all from the unic world both the game play and the comics, to how people sometimes just stop figthing in the middle of a match to run around joke taunt and being silly, I never expirenced that in any other game I played and I think that one of the reasons its special. I love the colorful personalitys of the mercs. but also over all the silly world they are in. the game is a diamond. I just hope help comes for it. I image mabye valve will end up suing the bot hosts on the bases on lost revenue than the game makes for them via in game sales. after all whats the value of items in a game if people cant play the games cause of bots kicking real players out ... beond playing war game dress up dolls with the chareckters in the load outs. I choose to draw the tf2 chareckters as chibis as I did that many years ago then I started playing and the first time I drew them all togther on a paper was as chibis. partly cause a A4 paper well ... its not aloth of space for 9 chareckters, ofcourse I dont have thouse limitations with digital now. but it feeld right. also wanted to pay respect for the comic medium as well its why I choose the speach bubbles, and still find it funny then scout use to have crazy legs movements. hope all have a good day and all the best hopes for the future.

[thefloatingstone]

Hello

I am once again rambling about neat details in Mass Effect everybody already knew except me.

I was playing the ending of the Citadel DLC a while ago, the part where the Normandy is getting stolen, and because this is the only mission in the game you can have Wrex as a party member, of course I took him. However, due to some irl stuff I wasn't fully vibing with the mission. So after the irl stuff got sorted, I decided to replay it. I took Wrex along for most of the archive part of the mission, but when it came to rescuing the Normandy, for shits and giggles I took EDI with me because I wondered if she'd get any unique dialogue.

and it turns out she gets... a LOT of unique dialogue. Like a RIDICULOUS amount. So much so that from now on she's gonna be the default squaddie for this mission when I replay again.

The initial almost joke scene where she glitches out for a second before rebooting and going "I'M OK!" was great and honestly that's the most I was expecting for taking her along. But there's a bunch of other stuff too. They went so far as to make that little orange hologram she has flicker and die when her control of the Normandy is shut down (which she's greatly distressed by when it first happens). And the orange band remains gone the entire mission until she's given control back

The mission running up to the Normandy and shooting Mercs has her basically screaming for blood the entire time which is probably the most emotion I've ever heard her give.

"I AM THE NORMANDY! AND I WILL KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU!"

Fuck yeah babe, you tell 'em!

But I also like the extra detail it adds. The Normandy DOES NOT WANT to be stolen. The Normandy ITSELF is like "FUCK YOU ASSHOLES!!! NOBODY GETS TO STEAL ME BUT SHEPARD!!!" The Normandy ITSELF is outraged at this bullshit and the sheer fucking audacity.

When trying to open the airlock, Shepard actually asks EDI if she can do anything and she openly laments she has no control nor does she know what's going on. So much so Garrus has to give her moral support which I did not know he would do if you bring EDI.

Furthermore, when riding the elevator to the cargo hold, Garrus more or less asks EDI how she's holding up, and EDI comments she feels like she's walking around blind. Garrus gives further support and sympathy telling her then it's only fair she take some revenge on these assholes and EDI is very 🥺 about it.

When you do the final fight in the cargo bay, you can hear EDI raging every now and then, and one line hits me is her more or less screaming "You betrayed my crew! You violated my trust! You violated my body!! I am going to KILL ALL OF YOU!!" [paraphrasing] which is kind of horrifying for her and makes me feel even worse for her than I did already when I never took her along before.

Finally, after the fight, Shepard asks EDI if she's in control again which she does even if you didn't take EDI along, but when she's standing in front of you, not only does EDI confirm she's in control again, but she actually adds with a smile "thank you for asking".

THERE'S JUST A LOT OF EXTRA SHIT I NEVER KNEW ABOUT!!!!! THERE'S SO MUCH JUICY CONTENT AND IMPLICATIONS AND LAYERS HERE AND I JUST NEVER FUCKING KNEW ABOUT ANY OF IT BECAUSE I LIKE WREX TOO MUCH!!!

Anyway, those are my thoughts about this mission I'm sure literally everyone knew about back in 2013 except for me.

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

Hello! I love your writing style!! It's just so on spot, and I wanted to request some headcanons for the mercs with a gn! reader who doesn't really speak but they can communicate through sign language or paper for whatever reason, the thing is, the Merc and the reader find themselves in a really critical situation or just an incredibly intimate and comforting moment, blurting out for the first time something serious or stupid like "y'know when I first met you I thought you're really stupid...(affectionate)" IDK OF THIS MAKES SENSE OR IT'S WEIRD SORRY LMAOOA

(if you don't wanna do all of them you could do your faves & I hope there's a chance to add miss Pauling if possible😔) but anyway, too much to read,, sorry again!! Take care♡♡

Y/N with communication anxiety admits their feelings to the Mercs

Scout:

- He’s very chill and nonchalant about it. Although have fun hearing him talk his mouth off all the time and rant about random things. He takes a liking to you pretty quickly when you join his team and leans on the wall next to you tossing his ball from hand to hand and blowing bubbles with his bubblegum. “Heeey there slugger. What‘s your name? You look like a total nightmare today.” He says. When you don’t answer him and nervously gesture to your throat that you’d prefer staying quiet he pauses for a moment. “Not a talker, eh?”

- Literally will not shut the fuck up. Will talk to you for hours on end. Venting or just saying plain stupid shit to impress you. You find his personality rather charming and in exchange he seems to appreciate your content silence and preference to listen to him. Something that the other Mercs don’t really do.

- “Y’know, Y/N. I know this sounds fuckin’ weird but like— Thank you I guess? For listening to my nonstop ramblin. I mean.. Not many people stop to consider what I have to say.” He says this to you while you sit in Tuefort’s gazebo with him on a cold desert morning. “They just think i’m annoying I guess..”

- “Annoying yet charming and handsome nonetheless, Scout.” You finally work up the courage to mutter to him. Your voice is rasp and you smile.

- Scout pauses, then looks at you in complete disbelief. Did Y/N just speak? Atop of that it seemed to have been a flirtatious compliment. He takes a moment to process the situation and then sort of chortles. He runs his hand through his own hair and acts chill about it but on the inside he’s absolutely mad with feelings. “Wow.. That’s.. Yeah, OK.” he says, failing to find words. Face flushed with heat.

——————————————————————

Soldier:

- He was the first person to approach you in the base. Like ever. When he found out there was a new mercenary he needed to lay the ground rules to them as soon as possible. Instead of giving him a “Yes sir!” like he had hoped, you stared at him blankly. (I’d probably be rethinking this job offer.) Wondering why you hadn’t spoken up to him, he got close to your face and looked up and down you. “I’D LIKE TO HEAR A YES SIR PRIVATE!” Still nothing. You were too busy admiring his muscles. You’ve just met this man but you’d let him throw you off a bridge in an instant.

- When he still doesn’t get a response, he backs up and angrily fixes his helmet “Insubordination I see.. Heh. Okay.” He mutters and prepares to plan a punishment later. You are oddly charmed by his stupid greeting and you head to the nearest chalkboard and explain in writing why you can’t respond back. He lifts his helmet up to read it and then looks back at you. (The other Mercs are kind of stunned that Soldier even knows how to read in the first place.)

- “Ah, I see.. Strange tactical decision but not unheard of.” He responds, then straightens his posture apologetically. You two become close friends from then on. Medic has to explain to him later that you just have “mild” communication issues. For the first few months of your guys’ friendship the dumbass thought you were doing this to gain an upper hand.

- After a match one day you catch him smoking a cigar on a huge pile of bodies in the pouring rain. You step up the horrific mess of blood and guts to meet him. He doesn’t look too happy. Although Soldier never really opens up about anything to anyone. He’s way too deep in his little military fantasy. You sit next to him and put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Whatever the hell he was upset about you knew it wasn’t good. After a bout of silence you whisper “You’re a wonderful strategist, Soldier.”

- You can’t see his expression underneath his helmet but you can certainly hear his heartbeat quicken because of how close you are. His mouth nearly twitches up into a grin. He doesn’t respond to your compliment but he’s relieved to hear one nonetheless after all this time.

————————————————————————-

Demoman:

- You find him making bombs in his quarters when you meet him for the first time. He doesn’t look too friendly but as you decide to walk by he immediately calls out to you. “Ayeee! New blood. Get ova’ here a second. Wee lil monster.” He beckons his hand aggressively.

- You walk over to him and he puts an arm around your shoulder. Patting you reassuringly. “Aye.. So It’s not gonna be easy livin’ here just so you know. We’re all a wee bit mad. Don’t take the others’ too seriously when dey bother ye.” He takes the responsibility upon himself to let you know as an older Merc it’ll be okay. He slaps you friendlily on the back after his conversation and sends you off. He doesn’t really question the fact you aren’t speaking.

- You immediately take a liking to him though. Mainly due to his explosive personality on the battlefield (pun intended.) He gets horribly drunk before doing any Mercenary work and acts goofy the entire time. His charisma pulls you in like a magnet. You want to speak to him but it’s so hard…

- After months of simping for this guy from afar, you slip a note under his doorframe professing your feelings to him. You hear him pick it up. The next thing you know, he barges into your quarters the next day after a match and grabs you by the shoulders. Asking you in complete disbelief if you actually meant everything you said.

- “Yes, I just think you’re really attractive!” you blurt out instinctively. Alarmed by his behavior. He lets you go; having heard your voice for the first time. The shock of the revelation and the sound of your voice, atop of the alcohol seemed to have done it for him. He immediately kissed you on the lips without warning. You’re the first person in years to say this to him.

- “I… Er.. “ He walks away after that. You have no fucking idea what the hell even happened.

——————————————————————-

Engineer:

- You hear the sweet melody of a guitar echoing off the intel room. Despite its clearly southern origins you are drawn to it. As if it was some sort of hypnosis. You’d recognize that melody anywhere. The year was 1967 and you were no stranger to your own childhood. That was clearly “El Paso.” You’ve heard that song on the radio a million times already. But somehow this was different. The soothing voice it came from was singing it as if it were his own lullaby to the multiple sentries around him. The ones of his own creation of course.

- Next thing you know, you’re sitting next to him on the intel desk, sleepy as all shit from the melody and the white noise from the patrolling sentries. You wake up an hour later to embarrassingly finding yourself on this stranger’s lap. You want to profusely apologize to your colleague but nothing comes out.

- He doesn’t even seem phased. For some reason he was stroking your hair as he gazed off into the distance.

- Ever since that day you became close to Engineer. He was completely unbothered by your communication issues and actually kind of appreciates the silent times he has with you. He rarely speaks to you while hanging out either, out of respect for your boundaries. Only the occasional conversation here and there. You are both existing together.

- “I love you, Dell.” You finally say, after a night of drinking in his workshop with him. You are perched up on his lap as always and he’s petting you. At first he misunderstands this as platonic. “Aww..” He cooes. “No, I mean it. I’ve always found you so —“ You bury your face into his chest. Muffling the last part of your sentence “Safe to be around.”

- He’s unbelievably boiling with hormones on the inside. He tips his hardhat forward to hide his flustered face. Holding his own chin. “Dammit..” He mutters in an incredibly positive way. You’ve successfully won this man over.

—————————————————————-

Heavy:

- He’s already met you before the job. Accidentally caught you in a coffee shop in Tuefort being yelled at by an ableist Karen and he took it upon himself to nearly strangle her for you. Heavy doesn’t tolerate behavior like that. You need to insult people with style or nothing at all. Don’t pick on their disabilities. Aim for the most stereotypical high school bully route possible. Come on, you gotta be an asshole skillfully.

- He could tell you were different the moment you joined the team. But that’s fine. He was quite misunderstood too. Heavy wasn’t a dumb himbo. He was a GIANT man with a lust for blood. Although he enjoyed chaos as much as any Merc, Heavy also valued silence. Something that you provided him with your presence. You catch him deliberately body shielding you on the battlefield because he knows this communication issue didn’t come out of nowhere. You’re distressed. This was his subtle attempt to let you know he cared.

- He catches you unable to sleep one night. He opens your door and notes the fact your light was still visible through the cracks. You’re sitting on the bed in an uncomfortable fetal position.

- “Little thing will not sleep?” He asks you. Although he has his typical hardened expression the question suggested he cared. “Hm. Stay here. Heavy will grab bedtime story.”

- He reads you an old Russian classic. Although depending on who you are you might not understand it. Regardless the soft sounds are alluring sleep. It’s clear he’s read people stories many times before because his whispers hit all the right places.

- You mumble to him a thank you. Which makes him pause mid sentence. He doesn’t know how the ever living fuck to process what he’s feeling right now. It’s a mixture of affection and the pang of what is typically the start of romantic attraction. Ew gross he’s feeling soft and fuzzy emotions.

- You pull him under the covers with you eagerly. He grumpily obeys but he doesn’t know why. He nearly destroys your bed with his weight and has to put you on his chest to cuddle. You can hear the sound of the ubercharged baboon heart inside him. Still pumping away and working to keep him going. You slip into slumber easily.

————————————————————————

Pyro:

- Talking is overrated anyway. Nobody really understands Pyro when they speak under the mask. Trying to say something simple like “There’s a spy behind you.” is often met with a confused expression. When Pyro meets you, it’s when he’s allured by your skills on the battlefield. In their point of view you are a glorious unicorn prancing around a field of pollen. (More like debris from the enemy soldiers’ rockets but that’s besides the point.)

- There are rare moments where Pyro is completely lucid and self aware of the fact they’re a mercenary for hire though. They compliment you on your abilities after a match and it takes you a while to understand but you nod.

- They won’t. stop. complimenting. you. You are dragged to his tea parties and childish shenanigans and you find over time it’s surprisingly pleasant to escape from the bloodshed once and a while. Cuddling sessions ensue as time goes on.

- You catch their face without their suit while they’re getting changed. That is vulnerability that Pyro wasn’t ready for yet. They break down sobbing and self depreciating and you feel heartbroken. Who the hell taught them to hate themselves so fucking much? You’re having a bit of empathy overload right now as they squeal and choke up. Finding no other alternative but to speak blissful things about their appearance and personality. Hearing you speak for the first time makes them cry more. (In an incredibly positive way luckily.)

———————————————————————

Sniper:

- Oh shit. Another person whose super quiet for some reason?! Except your situation is different. You’d like to socialize but it’s difficult. Sniper doesn’t want to socialize and he hates basically everybody. But he has that “grumpy older brother who teases you” energy. He’s well aware you’re younger than the other Mercs and therefore a tad easier on you.

- He’s scoping out a crack in the window when he feels your presence behind him. His shoulders stiffen and that’s how you know he senses you. “Blimey. You’d make a terrible Spy.” he mutters. Bringing his gun away from the hole to put it down and face you. His hypersensitivity to noise is no doubt from being stabbed a million times.

- You wonder how he’s able to tell it’s even you in the first place. He’s possibly grown accustomed to how each Mercenary sounds when they approach his nest. You can smell the scent of strong cologne mixed in with bond fire lingering off him. Couple that with the fact that he’s so unbelievably hot? You came to bring him some morning coffee but you end up setting it down to spontaneously hug him.

- “Wh— fuck.” He growls. Both caught off guard and swaying a bit. Trying to adjust to extra weight. He hesitantly hugs you back. Wondering if you were sick or something and needed soothing. He doesn’t understand why anybody would want this from him. It takes him a minute to put his arms around you and pat you.

- “What’s wrong mate?” he says, in your ear. This man might be giving you a voice kink if you don’t already have one. Holy shit. You don’t want to be humiliated by your own voice in front of him and your lips quiver. Incapable of finding the words you’re thinking of. “You’re cute.” you finally say. In a last ditch effort when no other words came to mind. To say you desperately wanted this man was an understatement.

- You hear him take a sharp breath in. He stifles a groan from the amount of energy you just shot into his godamn stomach. Not only was it a pleasure to hear your voice for the first time but it felt intimate. He was very sensitive to things like this. You swore you could hear this man purring in your ear like a cat. He was evidentially as touch starved as you were.

—————————————————————

Medic:

- No speaking?! Oh! this man has to study you like right fucking now. What a curiosity. He’s never met somebody who had issues speaking like this before. He hates to admit —and won’t admit for that matter — that he might be doing this out of emotion as well. Believe it or not Medic can be an incredibly emotion driven person. Not just for the pleasures of harming people but the unwanted sympathy that comes with being human. He hates the idea he might care for you. Why does he even feel that way? It’s not like you’re different from any other Merc..

- Except you are. You’re you. That’s the problem. You’re lovable in every way and no amount of rumination will ever explain why.

- His first instinct upon discovering this about you is to ask you questions about how bad it is. Obviously quickly realizing how stupid that is — he hands you his clipboard and a fresh piece of paper to communicate. “Do you speak if at all?” “Do you experience this in the presence of certain stressors?” “Did you have traumatic experiences that led to this?” “Is this perhaps a case of selective mutism?”

- You scramble to write down incredibly passive aggressive and sarcastic answers but they are answers nonetheless. He seems pleased with the results. Under normal circumstances you’d hate being treated like a guinea pig but his excited smile was charming. The fact that somebody wanted to understand your situation so badly was a bit riveting. He was hungry for information about the human existence. “Danke!”

- You catch something you’d never suspect in a mad scientist such as himself. While he’s drawing mathematical equations on his chalkboard one night he periodically looks over his shoulder to frown at you while he thinks you’re not paying attention.

- He’s doing a terrible job at hiding his human nature. There was a bout of emotion in his eyes about your health. As much as the doctor tried to remove this from his work, it kept rearing its ugly head in certain situations. “I love you, Doctor.” You tell him.

- SNAP. His fingers break the chalk in half. Just like his crumbling facade. You could see his eye twitch as he accesses ten thousand possible answers he could give you in his mind. “Aheh, could you give me a moment, bitte?” He tells you. Waltzing into the other room. You could hear muffled screaming coming from his bedroom. He regrets taking this job and wished he died in police custody.

———————————————————————-

Spy:

- YES! FINALLY SOMEONE WHO DOESN’T MAKE HIM WANT TO PULL HIS HAIR OUT AND BACKFLIP OFF A CLIFF

- Spy elegantly invites you to his quarters one night after weeks of avoiding you the first time you come here. He pours you some wine and hands you a glass. (adjusting your hand in the process because you’re holding the glass wrong.)

- “Do you know why I brought you here?” He asks. Pacing around the room and lighting himself a cigarette from his disguise kit. In all honesty you have no idea why but the sight of such a handsome older man doing this for you was distracting. “It is your performance as of late. You are throughly calculated I must say.” You couldn’t agree with this, but you wondered if he had some sort of thing for competent people. (Your assumptions are correct.)

- …. “Not to mention quieter than me when I scope out prey.” He mentions. Waving the cigarette between two fingers. He was a Spy and you had no doubt he was trying to read you like a book but having difficulties. He was especially accustomed to having small talk with the other Mercs to better fake their counterparts when disguised as them. You couldn’t help but feel a little flattered over the fact that not even a Spy could properly look through you.

- He looked at you rather frustratingly once he realizes you’re still not speaking. “Not even the slightest bit of speaking. Do you realize how much harder you make my job?” He complains sarcastically. You can’t help but crack a humored grin at this. He isn’t being ableist in this situation, rather he’s angry he can’t psychoanalyze somebody. You knew it was within’ a Spy’s nature to instinctively do this.

- He responded positively to your grin. Moving away and dragging his cigarette. Trying to hide a bit of his own amusement. “Yes, yes. You find my suffering to be equivalent to the entire circus.” He says. “But in in all honesty your silence is preferred.” Spy moves in and lifts your chin up with his pointer finger.

- “Tu es agréable à côtoyer..” He hisses. His voice sounding like a hungry cat as he draws closer to you. Spy has a very distinct look in his eye. One that basically screams thoughtful and mysterious. You nearly passed out at the unintentionally romantic gesture.

- “Please throw me off a fucking building.” You say.

- “What?”

[meiliarotten]

What's your hcs abt every merc's kinks?

Kink Headcanons (All Mercs!)

🔞Minors DNI🔞

The Masterlist

👟 Scout 👟

Very stereotypical interests, I honestly see Sout as kinda the most vanilla of the mercs

Not completely vanilla though. Not by a long shot

He’s definitely adventurous, and would he willing to try almost anything once as long as he’s with someone he trusts

Plus he’s an addict when it comes to praise

Tell him how good he’s doing while he’s fucking you, and he’ll have a very hard time keeping himself from coming right then and there.

If you’re willing to explore with him, I feel like you would witness quite a few kink awakenings.

Some things I think he would grow to enjoy are pegging, pet play, and femdom, but those are just my opinions!

🦅 Soldier 🦅

America is this man’s kink.

Ok, I’m joking. Kind of.

Soldier likes discipline, and he’ll definitely use his riding crop on you if you let him

However, that discipline goes both ways

He’ll start out with you as the bottom, so prepare to be the receiver of many spankings and swats

Then one day, he comes up to you, uncharacteristically bashful, and hands you the riding crop with a pleading look

He’s too ashamed to say that he wants you to top him, but you get the message real quick.

Once you unlock his switch side, you might even convince him to try pegging. He’s a real “man’s man” though, so make sure you’re delicate about it

🔥 Pyro 🔥

Thankfully, while Pyro is more than eager to play with fire on the battlefield, that fire does not translate into the bedroom (at least, not literally)

While Pyro doesn’t have a mask kink, a partner with a mask kink would be ideal for them, as they don’t like to show their face

However, if you don’t have a mask kink, blindfolds are always an option, and Pyro happens to like those very much

They love watching the way you squirm as the lack of sight enhances all of your other senses

Pyro also has a huge praise kink as well. They like to be told they’re doing a good job.

If they have an especially good day on the battlefield, you could offer to reward them later that night

💥 Demoman 💥

I’m gonna be honest, I was stumped on this one for a while

Eventually I finally settled on pegging

Allow me to explain

Watching the Meet the Demoman I just saw a man who, while he definitely enjoys his job, probably has a shit ton of stress

Add in the comic lore, and you’ve got all these familial expectations he’s gotta live up to as well

Basically, I think a night where he just gets to sit back and get ravished would be good for him

He would also probably have an affinity for oral, as he likes to eat you out in return

🥊 Heavy 🥊

This guy has a size kink. He likes smaller partners, and lucky for him, almost everyone is smaller than him, so he has quite the pool to pick from

There’s almost a kind of protective aspect in it for him. He likes to be able to protect his partner, to shelter them, and most importantly, pamper the absolute hell out of them

Seriously be ready to be waited on hand and foot by your own personal Russian bodyguard

I guess you could almost see it as a kind of service submission

Wow, service sub Heavy was not a take I was prepared to make but it does oddly make sense…

But as for his more dominant side, he doesn’t show it often, especially since he often worries about causing you pain during sex.

Usually you’ll be riding him

However, on the rare occasions when he’s willing, and you’re feeling especially comfortable and receptive, he will allow himself to be rough with you, teasing you about how small you are beneath him

🔧 Engineer 🔧

Toys. Specifically, ridiculously high tech toys.

Say what you will about a mercenary salary, it sure as hell lets you splurge sometimes.

And Engineer has definitely splurged, both on actual toys and on parts that he used to make his own

Yes, you heard (or rather, read) that right, this overachiever is out here making his own sex toys.

You and I both know that the Gunslinger probably has a vibrate function 😏

That said, I think Engie would have a particular kink for the classic “vibrating panties” scenario

Basically you are wearing the panties (or just a bullet vibe inside- it can really be anything that vibrates and stays put, it doesn’t have to be underwear) and Engie gets to press the buttons controlling the vibrations whenever he wants

He likes watching how you squirm and start to talk faster and louder, trying to cover up both the noise and your embarrassment.

He is the king of aftercare though, always letting you know how good you did.

🏥 Medic 🏥

Let’s get the obvious out of the way

I feel like Medic likes a lot of edgeplay. Possibly including blood, scalpels, and a few itty bitty surgeries here and there

Of course, it’s all consensual, but some people could still find it morbid.

On the more chill side, his kinks are actually pretty common.

These include impact play, edging, and sensory deprivation (for example, blindfolds). All of these go for both giving and receiving, btw

However one kink that I think is specific to him is how much he seems to love, and even prefer fucking you in the operating table.

Something about it just seems much more erotic than a normal bed

🦘 Sniper 🦘

Primal play, specifically being the predator in the scenario

Sniper is a pretty outdoorsy guy, so it figures that he would enjoy tracking you through a dense forest while you act as prey

Along with this comes outdoor sex as well

Something about taking you outside just seems so carnal and raw, it really gets him going

Plus, the chase just makes the final capture all the more satisfying, for both of you

Afterwards he’s immediately chill, carrying you back to the van for some much needed aftercare

And I just know someone out there is upset that I didn’t mention piss. I’m sorry. I’m still not gonna mention it.

🌹 Spy 🌹

A weirdly specific idea I’ve always held for Spy is that he likes waxplay

Something about the way the melted wax drips and solidifies in your body is very elegant and erotic to him (I have written a fic about this 👀)

Another big one is knife play. It definitely fits his theme

However, he never uses a sharp knife. The blade is always too dull to actually break the skin. But the way he builds up a scene is effective enough to make you feel as if you’re truly at his mercy

Basically Spy seems like a very formal dom to me, the kind that will lavish you with gifts while also making sure you never act spoiled. Brat tamer Spy, anyone?

Oh, and he likes to be called “sir.”

[coolfireguy73]

I love your art so much! Maybe if you want could you draw a kid sniper and kid scout? I love your art style!

🧌

It's been requested for a while so...

Here they are !

You can imagine it as "generation 2" !

Like, you have all the other mercs and then they grow up and years later you have them. They are also friends !

Sniper's a bit more shy but Scout drags him in all sorts of trouble :)

Sniper also help scout when he's training his running skills.

So there you have them, you can add them to the collection.

(Sorry again for not posting much :/)

[sneeperspoi]

One of my favourite aspects about Sniper and Spy's relationship (platonic or romantic) is how they both have a mutual understanding of like, quiet time and what it's like to genuinely feel this certain flavour of solitude:

Sniper has a lot of his work done completely alone; hiding, playing the waiting game, and all that jazz, while Spy has a somewhat similar experience. Sure, his espionage lifestyle has a more active role at times, but his job still requires maintaining distance (physical and emotional) from both clients and targets. Both are dedicated to their work enough that they'd avoid getting genuinely personal with people altogether— even if they wanted to, they know it'd negatively impact their abilities to perform. Sniper having the mindset of having "a plan to kill everyone you meet" and to just "take the shot", and Spy being described as a "puzzle, wrapped in an enigma, shrouded in riddles" is telling of how much of a wall either can put up and any given time.

Now, I'm not saying that the other mercs don't know what it's like to be isolated or that they could never relate to Sniper or Spy in that regard, but their roles aren't necessarily fundamentally built around it, y'know? They aren't required to hide away or to work solo (you could make the joke of "then why are there always 5+ snipers and spies on my team at any given time??" but shhhh this is more in the context of the lore/comics lolol).

I feel like this concept of them realizing their niche similarities and how "hey, maybe I'm not really alone in this world" has so much potential. Like... the idea of them not really participating often in team activities or usually hiding away (in a van and smoking room perhaps?) is great, but to add on the angle that they now have someone who finally understands?? To finally have someone that you don't have to explain anything to?? It hits differently. They could have a smoke together, not saying a word the whole time, and consider it a successful hangout— they don't expect anything from the other, or feel the pressure to act differently because they just get it, and know why things are the way they are.

There's so much angst potential too, forbidden friends/lovers who both know the consequences if things go sour. Maybe they've suppressed so much of that desire to have a relationship (platonic or romantic), that when they finally admit that this is the case (realizing they both feel the same way), something clicks and they try to make it work. Don't even get me started on the potential "hey, maybe I can trust you" aspects either lmao. Regardless of what direction you take though, their relationship growing feels special and unique.

The media too often depicts the whole "can't get close to no one. I don't need friends" attitude as mostly negative and something that needs to be fixed... but with these guys, they're just allowed to be like this. Not saying that there are no cons to this attitude ofc, but it's not necessarily a thing they have to change about themselves or each other or anything. I guess it's refreshing to see that there are still characters out there who can be loners and just be content about it. Unless of course, you want to go down that route. Love that type of angst, but it's nice to have that option without it feeling too OOC. Ugh, there's like so much to explore and deconstruct and so many directions to take this fr fr

((Also, I realize now it's kinda like being an art kid and that moment when you finally meet someone where you don't have to explain why you keep drawing the same old soggy men who shoot each other cuz they just understand. Artist to artist communication lol))

[lastchancestardomm]

We Will Never Leave You.

Mercenaries x Teen!Reader

Word Count - 3.1K

Warnings: Implied drugged drinks. Heavy swearing. Fluffy Found-Family Mercenaries. OC-insert. Written accents.

Status - Not Beta Read

A/N: This is by far my biggest fic ever. I consider it my Mona Lisa. My tour de force. You get the point– this is my favourite Ana fic ever. Oh, by the way, you really should read my first Mercenaries x Teen!Reader fic, "A Real Family", because while it isn't related to this one, it does add some background. Ana is a chaos kid, just so you know. There's so much to this saga, and so few words to be able to express it. Also, all my fics are formatted on mobile 😎.

The Mercenaries were hard to live with. They worked everyday and when they returned to base they were tired as hell. On ceasefire days, most would be too exhausted, or busy with other work to hang out with Ana. And she was getting sick of it.

She had battles to win, friends to make, places to explore, rocks to kick, dirt to dig in– she wasn't a little kid who needed to be protected.

That's why on one night, while everyone else slumbered in their beds, she snuck out of the base. All Ana had on her was her pocket knife with the beaten-up blade, and some money. Looking back at the base, seeing the soft orange glow of lamps in various windows, she began her charge to the small town of Teufort.

As she reached the town, she plopped herself down on a park bench. It was a nice night, honestly; a light breeze, a full moon, and the smell of dew lingering in the air. Ana sighed deeply, knowing well that any of the Mercs would be (rightfully) pissed if they knew she were here. Especially so late. Ana took out her knife and began to fiddle with it.

The blade sprung out, ready for action at each flick of her wrist, only to be diligently pushed back into its handle by her thumb. She thought of her friend in town, Mandy Tanaka– maybe Ana could visit her, and stay until morning. That'd be nice, 'cause Mandy is too dumb to know that people shouldn't visit at 2:37 in the morning. Maybe they could–

"Nice blade there."

Ana jumped. Her head whipped up to be met with the face of someone. It was a guy. He was about six feet tall, and skinny; but he was intimidating. He had tattoos on his arms, a nose ring, and wicked hair that looked to be streaked with mud. His left eye also looked to be bruised. He wore a stained tank top and baggy jeans.

"Sorry kid, didn't mean to scare you," his voice was rough, like sandpaper on Ana's ears.

She frowned, and huffed, "I wasn't scared."

He chuckled. "Really? Whatever, shortstack." Ana was more focused with looking at the stains on his shirt. Some were red, others were brown. Unfortunately, he seemed to notice her staring.

"What'cha so interested in? Am I really that much of a looker?" he seemed to eye her up and down.

Ana frowned again, and backed up on the bench, her back pressing on the cool metal bars. "Your shirt, lollakas. What's on it?"

"Feisty, aren't we?" He commented, ignoring her question. "I like that".

Ana stuck her pocket knife back into its sheath on her boot, and crossed her arms. She eyed the guy critically.

"So, you wanna kick it with me, kid? You look like the kind to enjoy a little mischief,"

Ana's eyes met his. She hesitated for a bit. This guy was much older than her. Then again, she was only sixteen. He looked twenty, maybe twenty-two. She thought for a moment, before a mischievous grin tugged at her lips.

She nodded. "Jah. Jah, I'll join ya."

He smirked. "Whatever you say, kid. C'mon." He turned on his heel and began to walk off, hands casually in his jean pockets. Ana bounced onto her feet and quickly caught up with him. "So, kid, think you're ready for what we'll do tonight?"

Ana rolled her eyes. She's sixteen, not a kid. If she wanted to, she could drive a car. "I have a name, you know," she scoffed. The guy side-eyed her, and quirked a brow as he kept walking. "It's Ana."

He shrugged. "Alright."

She rose a brow. "So...? What's yours?"

He dug his hands deeper into his pockets. "Chet."

Ana stared ahead, and turned back to Chet. "What are we going to do?"

He smirked slightly. "You'll find out kid."

He led her to a warehouse type of building; adorned with rusty metal siding, and had to be at least three stories high with one lamp hanging taut on a metal cord over the door. Chet knocked twice on the dingy metal door and someone opened it from the inside.

"Hey sweetheart!" the girl who answered the door cooed. She was also skinny, like him, and had multiple lip piercings. She wore fishnets under jean shorts, and her pink tank top sagged to where it was showing a lot of cleavage.

Her eyes were covered by reflective shades that gleamed green and purple under the grody yellow light from the lamp hanging above them.

"Oooh, who's this?" she asked in her squeaky voice. A cigarette that was in her mouth fell wetly to the ground.

"Fresh meat," Chet said.

"Finally, a girl. I'm getting sick of you and all your goonies constantly coming over," she kissed Chet's cheek, "not that I don't enjoy your company." He seemed to smile, though it looked more like a smirk. Chet took Ana by the wrist and dragged her over to a beaten-up old couch inside.

They plopped down together on it. Ana sat across from them on the floor, legs crossed.

"So, kid, ever had alcohol before?"

Ana shook her head. "I'm not old enough. I'm uh, kuusteist. I, uh– um... sixteen..."

The woman cackled. "So? Hunny, the rules don't apply here! Here, try some, we got plenty!"

"Yeah, kid. Don't even have to swig it if you don't want to," Ana watched as Chet took a bottle of beer from a crate underneath the sidetable by the couch and popped it open. He took a long drink before setting it back down with an empty clink. It was completely drained.

He cracked open a few more, passing them to his girlfriend, who would ditch her empty bottles on the grotty beige carpeting. They gulped down the beers one after the other, the girl eventually pulling out cigarettes to pair with their excessive drinking.

Chet's girlfriend placed an open bottle in front of Ana, rolling the metal cap around in her hands. She took her hand and pointed a finger to it. "Drink it,"

Ana bit her lip. Her hand drifted over to the bottle and she picked it up. She stared at the bottle dumbly. Ana wasn't stupid, she knew pretty damn well not to take food or drinks from strangers. Her dad taught her that. She sniffed the opening, and it reeked of something strange. No, no; something spicy. Whatever it was, it made the beer smell wrong.

Chet's girlfriend looked at her. "Don't just stare at it, silly, drink it!" she drunkenly giggled.

"I- I don't want t-to.." Ana stuttered.

Chet's flushed face immediately darkened. "What?" Chet asked. Ana stiffened, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. Chet let out an angry, strangled sound that was in-between a scoff and a frustrated laugh. "You don't want to? Kid. That wasn't a question. This shit isn't cheap. Drink that fucking thing right now."

Ana slowly stood up, unsure if she was to run or stay. Her eyes darted around. A bottle whizzed past her head, barely missing her by a hair and shattering into the wall behind her, and she fearfully collapsed back onto the floor in a heap.

"C'mon! It ain't that fucking hard to drink it!" Chet shouted. His girlfriend tried to grab his surprisingly well-built arms to hold him back.

"No! Chet, hun, chill. She's just a kid. I know you're not like this!"

Chet stood up and grabbed another empty bottle of the floor. "Nah, toots! This kid wanted to have a good time tonight. But she's gotta listen to us if she really wants to," Chet stepped closer to her.

Ana backed up on the floor, and kicked the bottle over by mistake. The hazel, bubbly liquid spilled out from the neck of the bottle right into the carpet. Chet stopped in his tracks, and stared at the growing dark stain. He looked back up at Ana, with a horridly familiar rage in his eyes.

"Didn't you fucking hear me?! Don't you know how fucking hard it is to get that shit?! Get out! Get the fuck out before I kill you!" Chet charged at Ana like an angry bull. His girlfriend tried to hold him back, but she was weak and delirious from the alcohol and fell back onto the couch with a whimper.

Ana gasped and stumbled up. She sprinted for the door, bashing through it like an unstoppable force (even if her forearms were already bruising because of the reckless maneuver). "Get back here you fucking runt!" he called after her.

She hightailed it, speeding through the small town right back to the safety of RED Headquarters. She ran faster than she ever had, that super fast kind of running that made her sides hurt. So fast, her poor feet couldn't keep up with her in the clunky military boots Soldier had gifted her.

Ana tripped on her own feet, and came crashing down; rolling along the dirt ground before coming to a rude stop by hitting a rock jutting out of the desert ground. Chet came up on her quickly after, and grabbed her by her shirt collar.

"Stupid little kid," he mumbled under his breath, which Ana further noted to be stinking with some kind of drug, along with alcohol. His nose flared as he dropped Ana back onto the ground.

Before Ana could try to crawl away, Chet plowed his foot into Ana's side. She curled into a protective ball, as more blows rained down on her. Ana grabbed her pocket knife from her boot, but as she tried to unfurl (intending to stab Chet in the foot) a well-timed kick clocked her right in the chin; knocking one of her top teeth out, and sending her flying onto her back. Her pocket knife wasn't sent too far, either.

Chet stomped on her chest, the pain burning as it felt like her ribs broke. Ana attempted to roll away, but Chet stepped on her back, pressing his weight onto her. "Not so feisty now, huh?" he bit.

He bent over to take the pocket knife from the red-orange dirt of Teufort–or most of the Badlands for that matter–and stabbed it into her shoulder. Ana cried out in pain, a shrill shriek accompanied by various tortured Estonian curses.

Before he could drive the knife deeper into Ana's shoulder, a figure tackled him to the ground. The figure held a long, knife-like object to Chet's neck, as he squirmed under their weight. "Think again, yah buggar," it muttered. The figure then cut Chet's throat, his desperate gurgling invading Ana's ears.

The figure stood up, and walked over to her. As it came closer to the dim streetlights, she could make out the hat and amber-tinted sunglasses of Sniper, who glared down at her disappointingly. He put away his Kukri, and bent down to take the pocket knife out of Ana's shoulder.

As the cold blade came out, all Ana could do was wail pained apologies to the kiwi. "Sniper, I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have left!" her eyes watered from the pain, but Sniper said nothing. "Ah... vabandust!"

He ripped a small part of his sleeve off to act as a temporary tourniquet until they got back to base, and once he was sure of the knot, he turned around and pointed at his back. Ana complied, crawling onto his back carefully.

He began to walk with her back to the base. His walking was quicker than normal from his height, but he remained silent throughout the ordeal. Ana nuzzled her face into his shoulder blade.

"Sniper?" He said nothing. "How did you find me?" He continued to stay silent. "Sniper, answer me." He stared blankly ahead. She checked his shirt. Yep, he was on her team.

Once she and him were back at base, he placed her down in front of the door. He leaned down to check his makeshift tourniquet, and pulled on the tails of the knot to make it tighter before getting back up. The lights in the base were on, and Ana could hear arguing from behind the door.

"Vell? Vhat should ve do? Sniper is gone, Ana is missing, and zhe others are having no luck finding her!" Medic cried.

"Ah'm tryin' to think, doc! Where would she have gone? Scout and Heavy haven't found anythin' on the battlefield, Spy hasn't reported back from the other base, Pyro's too busy bawlin' his eyes out, and Soldier is on a rampage God-knows-where followed by Demoman!" Engineer exclaimed back.

Sniper nudged Ana with his elbow as he walked by. He opened the door and strode in. "Herr Sniper! Vhere have jou been?! Is Ana vis jou?"

Sniper crossed his arms, with a scowl on his face. "Why don'tcha ask 'er yourself, doc?" On cue, Ana stepped into the base.

"Ana!" Engineer screeched with pure joy. "Medic! Check her! Ah'm gonna go tell the others!" Engineer ran out of the room, hot on his heels.

Medic rushed over and looked her over. Ana's whole body was covered in dirt and bruises. Medic paused when he laid his eyes upon Sniper's tourniquet on her arm. He applied some pressure to the covered wound, but just sighed as it had to do for now.

"Oh, Ana, vhere did jou go? Vhat vere jou doing?" Medic asked.

Sniper grunted. "The sheila was off in Teufort with some punk. He was kickin' 'er ass before Oi stepped in. Oi saw her leavin' from me van and followed 'er there." Some Mercenaries filled the room. Those included Scout, Heavy, and Pyro.

Pyro was a sobbing mess. His mask was off, and his face was all red with his eyes all puffy. "Ana!" he yelped, which broke her heart. His charismatic Italian-New Yorkan accent soiled by a scratchy throat from him wailing his lungs out earlier.

"Wh- why did you- you leave us?" He asked, sniffling. He quivered and Engineer hugged him. Medic stood up and strode over to Heavy.

Suddenly, Soldier smashed through a window, "Maggots!" he cried. Demoman followed suit, and crashed through the wall right next to Heavy in a cloud of shrapnel and dust. Heavy didn't even flinch, but Medic screamed and fell over in a panic. Soldier had tear streaks on his cheeks, and Demoman's eye was red and puffy.

Ana looked at all the worried men. She never expected them to cry over her. She knew they cared about her, yeah, but they were all grown men who had lives and live and jobs to do; not waste away their free time watching over a slimy, no-good, Eesti teen they didn't even need to watch over in the first place!

She was only gone for what? An hour and a half? But maybe they really did care more than she thought.

"Ana..." Sniper's voice brought her out of her thoughts. "Tell 'em why you were in Teufort,"

Scout gasped and stammered, "Wh-wh– wha-what?! Why did yah go so far? What were yah doin'?" his voice cracked mid-sentence. A chill ran up Ana's spine.

"Oui, chérie, and what were 'ou doing?" The Spy had arrived.

She stood quietly, and looked at each and every one of them. Demoman seemed shocked, nearly distraught; Soldier had a poker face, but tears still dribbled down his cheeks; Spy looked concerned, though wasn't crying. He seemed to handle this ordeal the best.

Sniper looked pissed off, and a bit annoyed; Scout was shell-shocked; Heavy was stone-faced, but had dried tear streaks on his face, and was helping a worried and frazzled Medic to his feet; Pyro had his face buried in Engineer's chest, still sniffling and hiccuping; and then Engineer looked... disappointed.

And Ana started to cry.

From her slumped stand, she collapsed to her knees and cried. She didn't hiccup or sob, but she took shaky breaths as tears flowed down her face.

Godammit....

"I w-was just s-sick of being left– left out!" Most men stiffened. "I wanted to g-go see– see the town! I wanted to do s-some– something instead of sit in my damn room! Like every other frickin' day!" she covered her face with her hands, her head feeling heavy.

She just wanted to curl up and disappear. Have them all forget about her. Make it like it used to be in Otepää when she was young. "Vabandust.. I didn't think you cared about me anymore,"

Demoman spoke up, "Lassie, we would nevah stop carin' 'bout yah." Heavy joined in, "Дa, leetle gurl needs us and ve need leetle gurl."

Pyro made his way over to Ana. He knelt in front of her and took her hands in his own, which were coarse from years upon years of fire burns. His face was very red, and many winding lines of tear streaks ran down his cheeks. "We will never stop carin' about yah, Ana," he said. "We will always love yah, and take care of yah."

"I'm sorry we can't be d'ere everyday. I'm sorry yah were raised up in such a bad place. I'm sorry we can't be the guardians yah need us ta' be."

Ana cried out more and threw her sore arms around Pyro's neck. "D-don't be sorry! You g-guys are the best any– anyone could ask f-for!" She felt Pyro's arms wrap around her, "I wouldn't give y-you guys up for anything!" she said.

"We wouldn't give yah up eithah, Roo," Sniper said, patting Ana on the back as she was held in Pyro's embrace.

Engineer strode over, and took her from Pyro. He held her in an embrace, "Listen Ana, Ah don't want yah feelin' like we don't care for yah. We really do. Alla us would risk anythin' for yah. Sure, we're all busy with work and when we come back we're all tuckered out, but if yah wanna do somethin', we'll do it. Startin' today Ah think we should all dedicate a few hours to yah after work. Right fellas?" The others nodded.

"How does that sound darlin'?"

She shrugged, "I don't want you guys to hang out with me if you don't want to, or if you're tired,"

Demoman piped up, "It'd be worth it, lass!" Soldier agreed with the Scot, "Yes! I would climb a mountain and fight my old roommate if you wanted me to!"

Ana laughed, "But you fight him every Halloween!"

Soldier nodded, "Exactly, Cadet!"

"Leetle gurl?" Heavy asked. She looked at him. "You understand that all us men love you, correct?" Ana nodded. "Vell, don't forget."

She smiled at him. "I love all you guys, too. Ma armastan teid koiki in my language, just so you know." she giggled.

Medic walked over to her and placed his hand under her chin.

"Und ve vill never stop loving jou."

[evil8keta]

Mercs with a reader (PLATONIC)

who’s personality is kinda like invader zim? Not exactly like him, but just has that loud, crazy, demeanor?

HELL YEA! I LOVE CRAZY PPL

mercs with a loud and energetic reader

SCOUT

- i'm gonna be honest, scout was probably scared of you at first lol. he thought you're actually insane, but i think over time he would kinda grow a liking for you? so congratulations, you're now his prank buddy. actually, you're pretty much his buddy for any and all stupid shit that scout wants to do

SOLDIER

- oh he LOVES you!! i mean you're kinda like a mini version of him, so from the moment he saw you he pretends he's your dad or something. you two often yell at eachother and soldier is very proud of you and loves your enthusiasm, he thinks you're a fighter. this man does a lot of stupid and dangerous shit with you and hypes you up 24/7. you two are a powerful duo

PYRO

- now, pyro can be a bit immature, but i don't think the're the type to be very loud and eccentric like you. because of this pyro was also probably a bit scared of you at first (having pyro scared of someone is quite an accomplishment might i add). but over time pyro will most likely get used to you. i mean it's not like you're an evil threat or something you're just loud and off the walls lol. you two do get up to a lot of silly shenanigans together

HEAVY

- ughhh...so loud. heavy doesn't like very loud people, but he will tolerate you. eventually he kinda grows a soft spot for you, idk why. maybe he just likes weird crazy people like that (looks at medic). anyway, heavy actually really enjoys having you around despite your high energy. unfortunately for you, he can be a killjoy. he will often talk you out of new fun things that you wanna try if he finds them too dangerous. or he straight up just man handles you and throws you over his shoulder to make sure you dont do anything stupid. anyway he loves you, you're like a little chihuahua to him

DEMOMAN

- oh you two are very similar so i think you'll get along very well. i'm talking buddies in crime, constantly getting up to weird and crazy plans that may or may not result in a few broken limbs or mental trauma (not for you two, but for those watching you). you both literally share one braincell. also he kinda views you as his younger sibling

ENGINEER

- for someone as laidback as engie, he surprisingly doesn't mind people with high energy. he actually thinks you're pretty silly and enjoys watching you do crazy shit cause it's kind of charming to him?? he's just happy to see you have fun. the only thing that he's a bit scared of is letting you in his workshop... like yeah, he trusts you! just.. maybe not THAT much..

MEDIC

- omg he loooves your high energy. you guys can be unhinged together all the time, he definitely hypes you up. however, sometimes he needs his calm moments so he can focus on his work. don't take it personally but he might lock you out his lab so you don't disturb him. but other than that you can bet he pulls you into a lot of crazy shit, even sharing all his strange medical plans and findings with you

SPY

- TOO LOUD TOO LOUD! sorry buddy spy will avoid you like the plague. he does think you're fun to watch but only from a distance. he's got enough maniacs on the team already y'know? it's not that he dislikes you but whenever you try to engage with him he acts irritated and just tries to escape you. get his ass

SNIPER

- same with spy, too loud. you know sniper, he's a quiet guy who keeps to himself and overall prefers silence. he does think you're cool and funny though and even joins in on your crazy shenanigans from time to time. as long as you don't yell his ear off he will definitely like you

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

HEYYY love the scenarios you qrite!!! if you do angst, could you do how every merc would react if a teammate they're close with (platonically) died in battle?

How Would the TF2 Mercs React to a Close Teammate Dying In Battle? (Angst!)

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Hi, I'm so glad to hear you like my writing 😭 also thank you so much for your ask! I do write angst, but most of the time, I tend to add a little bit of comfort just to keep things from getting too dark. I hope that isn't too big of an issue! But enough rambling, here we go :)

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ALSO, I don't know how to explain this, but some of the characters I associate with each other are ones I ship together or are well known ships in the fandom but, I think regardless of shipping, these characters have a close bond as friends and that's how I'm going to write them or at least try! (I hope that makes sense :D)

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TW: DEATH, VIOLENCE, LOSS OF A FRIEND(?), GENERAL ANGST BASICALLY!

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The mercs had an off feeling from the start. The battle had only begun but the other team we're fighting it was their last battle. All the mercs had at least one wound that would require stitches after the match. Then as the two mercs (whoever's in the head canon) cross paths, and a shot rings out, wounding them fatally.

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Demo- If Solider Died:

If he had been drunk when he stepped on the battlefield, he was sure as hell sober now. He immediately runs over to Soldier, fucking panicking like you wouldn't believe. He keeps trying to tell Solider that it's not so bad, that he can pull through, that it'll be okay, all well screaming for Medic to come and help. Soldier just takes his hand away from his wound. Demo tries to fight against him, but Soldier only tells him,

"It was an honor to fight by your side. See you in hell, Tavish." as he goes limp on the ground. Medic eventually makes his way to where the two lay, looking rather battered himself, and is immediately cornered by an enraged Demo.

"Can you fix this? Can you bring him back?" He says, trying his hardest not to break. Medic says he can, "Then fucking do it." is the only reply from Demo as he walks onto the field, forgoing his weapons. Fully intent on ripping the other team apart, limb from limb, with only his bare hands.

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Engie- If Pyro died

Engie never thought that you could see the light leave from someone's spirit, he thought you could only see it in their eyes, which was why he was half thankful Pyro wore the gas mask, he didn't want to think about Pyro dying, but it crossed his mind on more than one occasion, and he just kept thinking that maybe, if he didn't see the light leave their eyes, that it wouldn't hurt as much in the event that something tragic happened. He couldn't have been more fucking wrong. Pyro crumpled to the floor, blood staining the ground under them, taking shallow breaths, Engie swears that even though the bullet hit and killed Pyro that day, it also killed him. He immediately ran over, trying to find the wound to see how bad it was, hoping somehow it wouldn't be as bad as he thought. He received no such comfort. Pyro just reached for his hand, sqeezing it tightly, before moving a hand to their mask, pulling it off their face slightly, just enough to mutter the words,

"I'll miss you. You were my best friend." Engie would fix their mask out of respect before carrying them to Medic. The ground was coated in blood by the end of the match. You couldn't step in any corner without feeling the ground squish beneath your feet. And yet, still sitting on the battlefield, even after all the blood shed, Engie sat in the spot where Pyro died, trying to look for the light that had been lost.

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Heavy- If Medic died

Instant rage. Like flipping a switch, all hell breaks loose. With no Medic to heal, well, Medic, Heavy makes quick work of killing the enemy team, not worrying about the multiple wounds he was receiving while doing so. He only spares the other teams Medic, spewing every threat imaginable at him if he doesn't heal his teams Medic. The other team's Medic, for his part, is trying his hardest. Knowing full well that Heavy will uphold the threats, he tries and fails. The damage is too severe, the blood is gone, soaked into the ground, and he can't undo what's been done. (He's nowhere near as good of a doctor as Medic) Heavy doesn't kill him. He sees no need anymore. His death won't fix what happened, and he tried, he held up his end of their "deal," so to speak. He sits next to Medic's body, apologies slipping out every now and then, apologies for not doing his job, for not protecting him. It was his fault his friend died, and he has to live with that forever.

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Medic- If Heavy died

He knows, in his mind, that death isn't permanent, so he reasonably shouldn't be worried, but he is. He's worried, devastated, angry, and he's feeling more emotions than he ever thought a person could feel. He runs to Heavy's side, comforting him, knowing already that the wounds are too grave to be healed. He can only just be with him now. He's speaking a mile a minute, assuring Heavy that this isn't the end. He can and will bring him back, apologizing in between reassurance for not being able to heal him, not being able to stop the pain, apologizing for anything and everything. Heavy cuts him off,

"I trust you, Doktor. I believe in you, I will see you again, my friend. Goodbye for now." Medic didn't even realize he was crying until he felt his tears on his pants. Medic could and would have killed the other team, but he ordered his teammates to keep them alive, just make it so they can't escape. Screaming, begging, and cries to God would be heard from the medbay for months.

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Scout- If Sniper died

Sniper wasn't even supposed to be there. He was supposed to be anywhere else. But he was there, and he was dying. Scout ran to his side, trying to find the wound, his basic first aid skills kicking in as he applied pressure wherever the blood was coming from, while yelling for Medic like he's never yelled before. Sniper just chuckled,

"What are you laughing at, I'm trying to help!" Sniper just pulls Scout's hand away and shows him the blood staining his hand and tape, and pointing to the blood pooling around the wound.

"It's no use." Scout just kept murmuring the word no. Sniper pulled out his keys with great struggle and placed them in Scout's hand, "Take care of the van for me, would ya?" Giving him a weary smile before letting out one last breath. His bat looked painted by the end of the day. Washed off his bat and then just sat in the van after picking up Snipers rifle and hat, putting them back in their rightful place. The van had never felt so empty and cold.

————————————————————

Scout- If Spy died (Scout thinks Spy is his dad but has no proof)

Scout felt a deep pain seeing Spy be shot down in front of his eyes, an unexplainable pain. He'd seen everyone on his team get hurt at least once, but somewhere deep in his gut, he knew that nothing about this was normal. He ran over to Spy, pulling off his coat and trying to find the wound, Spy just tried to shoo him off.

"Just let me die alone, Scout. I don't deserve to die in company, let alone yours." Scout is taken aback, utterly confused, and angry.

"Spy, I ain't letting you die alone. I'm not letting you die, period. I know we don't always get along, but I care about you, so I'm not leaving." He goes back to trying to find the wound, yelling for Medic to come and help. Spy just looks at Scout, flashes of all the things he never got to have or ever will have haunt him in his final moments, but Scout's willingness to get him help, or even just stay with him, heals something inside Spy. He reaches out, grabbing hold of Scout's arm, saying one final goodbye to the boy he wish he would have raised,

"I've always been proud of you, Scout. je t'aime mon fils, au revoir." (I love you, my son, goodbye)

The words hit Scout deeper than Spy could ever know. Assuming he was saying something to Scout, that would make no sense, but Scout understood French well enough to reply to the dead man.

"J'aurais aimé que tu puisses dire ça avant, au revoir papa." (I wish you could have said that before, goodbye dad.) Scout let his pain be known through the slaughter on the battlefield that day.

————————————————————

Sniper- if Scout died

Instantly concerned at Scout's expression when he's hit. His face goes from his normal smiling and joking (albeit with a concerned look shining through from time to time) to a face of pure shock and terror. He runs over to Scout as quickly as he can, asking him questions to try and figure out how best to help him.

"Snipes, it's no good," He's coughing when he speaks, and his sentences are getting softer, "I think this is it for me." Sniper can't say anything. He just holds Scout's hand. Wishing he could find the words to express his fear of losing the bond he and Scout had built over the years. Expressing anything other than pained silence. Scout seemed to pick up on this, letting out one last quip, "Don't beat yourself up for not having any words, I don't think anyone could describe me. I'll miss you Snipes, make everyone else's lives hell for me, okay?" Sniper went cold, picking up his rifle, storming off to the best point he could find, and littered the battlefield with bits of brains and skull.

————————————————————

Spy- if Scout died (Scout knows that Spy is his dad)

Guilt riddled the second he saw Scout fall to the ground. Spy had gotten into a natural habit of protecting Scout from most dangers, claiming each time that Scout was just lucky he happened to be around. But to see Scout be struck down because Spy was unable to protect him and made feelings well up in him that he had tried to bury. He ran to Scout's aid, attempting to help in any way he could, taking off his coat to soak up blood as well as using it to partially pact the wound, Scout let out a soft laugh,

"You'd really ruin your fancy coat for me?" Meant in jest, the joke hit Spy harder than it should have. Wondering if Scout really had doubts on if Spy would sacrifice his life for something as trivial as clothes. Scout saw the look cross Spy's face but didn't have the words to answer the questions floating around in Spy's mind. Scout just reached a hand out to Spy,

"It'll be alright, just uh," his voice breaks a little bit as he asks. "Tell Ma, I love her. She'll love to hear from you again and give here these. He says, handing over his dog tags. Spy looks shocked, wanting to ask when he found out, but Scout was gone before the words left his mouth. The battlefield will never be the same again, stained with corpses and blood. His butterfly knife will never be the same again.

———————————————————

Solider- if Demo died

Soldier never thought he'd see the day where Demoman would fall to the ground. His friend was so strong, so powerful, nothing could stop him. But there he was, on the ground, blood staining the dirt, and Soldier found himself being truly scared for the first time. He runs faster than he's ever ran before, getting to his side in an instant. He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know what to do. He calls for Medic. Trying to somehow comfort Demo. He's never been good with words, wants to express. He knows how much this friendship means to both of them, how deeply they care for each other, he wants to explain this all, to make it known, but all he can say is,

"You're a strong man Demo, this little bullet wound won't take you down!" Demo just gives him a small smile.

"I don't think I'm coming back from this one, lad."

"Don't say that. It won't take you down. This can't take you down!" Demo just extends a hand, hugging Soldier before going limp in his arms. The battle wasn't the same after that. Men wept out of fear, seeing the carnage, knowing they were next to be slaughtered. The battlefield was covered in flesh and bone by nightfall, and he still wasn't done inflicting damage on the ones who took his friend from him.

————————————————————

Pyro- if Engie died

They go numb. All the color drains from the world around them as they find themselves by Engie's side, heartbroken. Their friend, someone they've come to trust, and have a deep bond with, the only person that they believe can truly understand them is ripped away from them. Engie only looks up at Pyro with a sad face,

"I'll miss you partner, you were the best friend a guy coulda asked for. I was lucky to have you in my life." Tears well up in Pyro's mask, dropping out when they pull the mask off, just enough to be able to speak.

"Please don't leave." Engie raises a hand to their face, wiping away some of the tears.

"I don't think I have much of a choice in the matter. Don't worry though, we'll meet again one day, I'll make sure of it."

The body goes limp in Pyro's arms. The battlefield was scorched. Nothing was left by the time Pyro was finished with it. Only the other nine mercs, the ones who killed Pyro's friend, failing to find a place amidst the fire and ash. Finding themselves at the end of Pyro's flame thrower, pleading for anyone else to come kill them. No one listened. Scorched earth and nine piles of ashes were all that was left as night fell.

————————————————————

Aftermath! (Short Happy Ending)

Medic managed to revive each merc after hours of tinkering with their corpses, trying every imaginable (and unimaginable) way to resurrect them. He won't tell anyone how he did it, but no one really cares too much. Tears and hugs are shed from many grown people that day <3

(Uh, if you're wondering how Medic came back, the Devil probably just didn't feel like dealing with him and sent him back lmao)

————————————————————

Hell, hath no fury like a man who just lost his best friend.

Oops, I had to give Scout two because I originally had no one who cared that Spy died lmao. Anyways, I hope you like this Anon, sorry it took way too long to write. I uh didn't think it would be this long 😭

Silly little word count just for funsies: 2337 words, and it clocks in at nine pages in times new roman 12pt font double spaced, just incase you were wondering.

I. Am. Exhausted.

This took at least 4 hours. I'm not complaining, but like Goddamn. New post tomorrow, hopefully.

[dokidokitsuna]

Goldilocks in Grimmland

This is so, so premature...but my muses have been with me from start to finish on this idea and I adore it, so I'm talking about it now! :D

So in the RWBY NeverFell AU, Yang's little mishap during the Vytal Festival actually follows her around for quite a while; with pretty much everyone but her closest friends whispering behind her back about what she did to Mercury. This is very isolating and frustrating for her, especially since she knows from Ruby's eye-witness account that Merc was definitely faking his injury. She's determined to figure out how and why she saw that illusion, and also kinda wants revenge against Mercury for low-key ruining her life. ^^; And her investigation eventually leads her back to him...except, he looks a bit different now. Shocked by his Grimmification and eager to know more, she dives even deeper into the mystery.

Unfortunately, by this time, Salem has arrived at Beacon, parking her giant whale outside the premises similarly to the way she did in Volume 8. ^^ And upon landing, it creates a Grimm-based ecosystem-- a dark forest that gradually spreads outwards the longer it stays there, only adding to the population of Grimm overrunning the area. That's a whole other issue, that the rest of Team RWBY will probably be helping with. For Yang, it's mostly just a giant hindrance to her investigation. She's got suspicions about Mercury (and knowing he's a silver-eyed warrior, suspicions about her deceased mother) and she's sure that the answers are somewhere in that Grimm-whale. But with the death-forest of Grimm surrounding it, it seems impossible for her to get there.

Until, she remembers she knows someone with a semblance that's perfect for the job. ^^

+++

There are several reasons why I love this idea: it gives Yang the spotlight for once in her life; it makes Mercury relevant; it provides an opportunity to get members of the main cast close to Salem.

But the biggest one is: IT GIVES ME AN EXCUSE TO USE REN!!!!! (≧∇≦)ﾉ

I've always loved Lie Ren; like Penny, he's one of those characters who's just impossible to screw up (in basic concept, anyway...). Across RWBY's many adaptations and spinoffs, he's always adorable and always looks cool in combat.

The only problem with him, and the reason I've rarely spoken about him, is that...people don't seem to care about him?? ;_; Specifically, in the source material, he's given so little to do that there just isn't much of a reason to care about him. He barely has any motivations that don't boil down to some variant of "protect Nora". Even Nora herself is given character connections and talking points outside of "her man", but Ren has no one and nothing else. He gets a couple episodes of spotlight in Volume 4, and that's it for the whole series. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I mean, just think about this: Ren is the only member of the main cast who doesn't have a character song. o_o Look it up, it's true. I had to look it up just to make sure, because I found it appalling...this is a character who was originally voiced by the creator of the show; why is he such an afterthought???

So I decided, if I don't like this, I gotta do right by him in NeverFell, somehow. And it was REALLY hard to think of a place to put him, until I suddenly struck gold with this idea. ^^ Yang's little 'detective story arc' had been a thing for a while, and although I wanted her to be separate from Team RWBY, I never really liked the idea of her being alone. A character like her works best with someone to bounce off, and Ren's coolness is a great contrast for her bubbly personality.

Plus, I think putting Ren in a position like this could service him, too: not only does it give me an opportunity to add his semblance, backstory, and maybe even a Nuckelavee fight to the plot in the absence of a V4 timeline; it could give him a chance to "flesh himself out" the way Nora did in V7. Y'know, allow him to really connect with someone besides Nora-- and then, maybe seeing how similar-yet-different Yang is to his childhood friend is what'll get him to realize that he's never done this before. That maybe he's stuck to the familiar dynamic of that early relationship for so long, that there are different sides of his own personality that he's forgotten about. Sides that are coming out now that he's on this new adventure, with a new friend~.

[mugs-n-cans]

The Basics

Yo! I’m Scout, kind of a big deal. I created this blog to show everyone how freakin’ sweet I am. Also, Snipes is here! He’s not sayin’ anythin’ ‘cause he thinks this is a bad idea. Ask away! I know I’ll get a lotta autograph requests but keep it to a minimum, guys.

Now for the real basics

I’m the mod. My name is Max. I go by he/they/it. I’m just creating this for a bit of fun, as I’m bored and have nothing better to do. This is going to be a speeding bullet focused blog (if you couldn’t guess so far). Also, this is my first ask blog, so please bear with me.

Anon list

mod is 18+, suggestive asks are allowed but full nsfw will be ignored (please block the suggestive tag to avoid seeing that content!)

most of this will be my own headcanons and perspectives, but you are allowed to project your own

you can send as many asks as you like, but please do not spam a single ask

roleplay as much as you like

i will also write for other mercs if the question pertains to it, but i would like it to be relative to sniper or scout (miss pauling is included of course)

RED x BLU asks are allowed as well, just please specify by coloring the name (i.e. scout, sniper) or just saying BLU Scout or RED Sniper. RED x BLU will be on a separate timeline than RED x RED or BLU x BLU

you are welcome to ask questions about the mod as well!

DMs are open if you want to chat or if you have questions about rules or whatever else!

you are allowed to sign off with an emoji to be recognized in the future!

freak fortress asks will be separate from team fortress. abbreviations for their names can be CBS or AP, just for clarity sake.

I may add more rules later as I think of them

Tags

#mugs n cans - general asks

#asks n cans - scout-centric asks

#mugs n asks - sniper-centric asks

#freaks n asks - all asks pertaining to christian brutal sniper or ass pancakes

#mod mugs - asks about the mod

#ooc - mostly for things unrelated to asks like announcements

#bullet mail - for replying or posting outside of asks ic

#bullet fanart - for me being incapable of not sharing speeding bullet fanart every few posts

#bullet reblogs - for non-fanart reblogs (think memes and stuff like that)

#song recs - self explanatory!

#suggestive - for those spicy asks

[rabbittf2x]

Maybe S/o is basically more insane than medic? And one day they just surgically insert purr sounds in their throat so every time that S/o is happy they just purr very loudly? I wonder how ((Medic, Spy, and scout)) would react?

(Gn reader and romantic plz)

Anon🦭🌺-

Mercs with a Reader crazy like Medic

Includes: Scout, Medic and Spy

Scout💖

You were always up to weird shenanigans and experiments with the Medic. Scout was becoming jealous of how much time you were spending with him, thinking you were losing interest. That scared him, as he really liked you. Sure, you were a little kooky… but that was what made you so interesting to the boy!

Scout’s worries and doubts were soon debunked though when you entered his room one night. You strode over to where he laid on his bed, that insane grin plastered on your face

“What’s up, babe?” Scout smirked back

He sat up a little as you laid down next to him, resting your hand on his toned chest

“Oh, nothing…” you giggled

Scout folded his arms behind his head, simply enjoying your company. You snuggled closer, smiling into the crook of his neck. Just as he closed his eyes, they were torn back open at the sound of a deep rumble from your throat

“Babe?!” Scout shot up

You stared at him confusingly, “what?” You asked. It took you a few moments to process. “Oh, yeah! That’s what I came in here to tell you!” You laughed. Scout stared wide eyed, a small blush creeping along his cheeks when you brushed playfully against him. “I gave myself a little purr. Now I can tell you just how much I like you without even talking!” You squealed excitedly

Scout stared at you dumbfounded. “Why? Why would you do that?” He asked

“It was fun! It’ll wear off eventually.” You shrugged

You spent the rest of the night cuddled up against Scout’s chest, purring like an engine. His face was bright red, flustered that you were making all this noise just ‘cause of him. The purring was definitely growing on him…

Medic💖

Medic loved to do many types of experiments revolving around animals. You were just as crazy as him, and often assisted with these projects. While he did more… extreme things with his experiments. Such as, pregnancies… you liked to do smaller, wackier things! Sometimes, even on yourself

“Look what I did!”

You skipped into the infirmary, beaming that crazy smile while pointing at yourself. Medic turned away from what he was doing, gazing upon your sweet face lovingly

“What did you do, dear?”

You didn’t respond, only creeping over to him and cuddling against his chest. Medic blushed, placing his arms around you in a makeshift embrace. He was confused, but then stunned when he heard a purring sound coming from your throat

“Darling?” Medic gasped

You smiled into the crook of his neck, purring like an engine. The doctor was honestly very impressed that you managed to add a cat’s purr to your vocalbox. Very impressed!

“Now I can purr to show how much I like ya!” You giggled like a madman

Medic would give you a lecture on how unsafe it was to experiment on yourself later. In the meantime, he smiled bashfully and hugged you close. He could’ve nearly sobbed at how cute it was when you purred because of him

Medic couldn’t focus on any other experiments anymore. All he wanted to do was make you purr. He was constantly giving you little kisses, or gentle, lingering touches. The cute purrs you emitted were fascinating!

Spy💖

It sometimes annoyed Spy how much time you spent experimenting with Medic. He did enjoy that you were smart and creative like that, but he also missed you. It was never boring when you were around. He liked the crazy ones quite a bit…

After spending the evening with Medic in his lab, you finally entered Spy’s smoking room. Spy glanced up from his magazine at you by the door, a not so subtle smile on his face

“Good evening, mon cher. How did your experiments go?” He asked

As he turned back to his reading, you waltzed over with a mad grin. You yanked the magazine from him and discarded it on the table. Spy was about to protest, but immediately shut up when you plopped down onto his lap

“They went good.” You began, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I did something funny.”

Spy put a hand on your thigh, holding you in place. His brow furrowed slightly, curious as to what you meant

“What did you do?” He asked sternly

You just kept on smiling like a nutter, pulling him closer to you. You snuggled up into the crook of his neck by the fire, feeling a deep purr coming on…

“What the hell was that?” Spy exclaimed at the sound

You lifted your head from his neck to meet his eyes. “Did ya like it? I’m like a kitty cat now! It doesn’t last very long though…” you giggled

“Wait, wait.” Spy interrupted. “You made it that you could…? Purr? Like a cat?”

You nodded your head rapidly, playing with his tie. He was going to ask why, but he knew it was no use. You were such a weirdo. Spy instead smiled at you, feeling some sort of way when you lovingly purred back