#demo x spy

[lenny-link]

Magma collab with my AMAZING friend @homkamiro ‼️‼️

[team-headcanons-2]

what do you think of. bomb voyage. 💥💥💥

I think it's so cool, but the name makes me think of the villain from the incredible movie the mime fucker anyways here like 5 headcanons about them

Bomb voyage/spy x demo headcanons!!

Spy's love language is gift giving and he gifts Demo that good fucking alcohol.

Demo on the other hand shows his affection via praise since Spy isn't one for physical contact, and Spy gets flustered real easy.

Spy likes playing with Demo's hair.

Demo often sleeps his hangovers off in Spy's smoking room where its the most quiet.

Spy is really overprotective of Demo during matches and would stan anyone who had killed Demo more than once.

[kostekkk]

I've got some sketches A few with spoovys A Spy in Heavy's clothes!!!

Kitty

lol idk

And something short with the Heavymedic (I just wanted to draw Heavy pinching Medic's ass lol)

(Translation in alt)

Medic in shorts and polo shirt!!!

The song from tiktok about the jocks inspired me to do this lmao

I'm laughing really hard at them

[gearbroth]

drawpile doodle dump

[the-teufort-nine]

may i rq a scenario with any of the mercs where they find reader injured when respawn's down. maybe bc of an accident or an ambush. i like angst as long as its ok in the end

HOLY SAXTON HALE ANON THIS ONE GOT AWAY FROM ME!

This isn't explicitly romantic, but you could definitely interpret it as being romantic if you want! You're def the team's fave <3

Anyways, enjoy about 8400 words of hurt/comfort goodness and the Blu team being pathetic lil meow meow when they think you're dead dead.

Mercs x GN!Reader | Respawn Malfunction

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Hurt/Comfort | SFW | Cw: starvation, temp character death, excess drinking, animal death ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Featuring:

Everyone! Even Miss Pauling is here!

Scenario: During the last few moments of a match, Blu team's Respawn Machine suddenly malfunctions, with you inside! Left reeling by the loss of their Chemist, the team attempts to cope. A week later, Miss Pauling receives a most unexpected phone call...

There had been no warning.

If there had been, then the sharp eyes of RED and BLU’s Engineers would have certainly caught it. Unfortunately, the Respawn Machine had been just as reliable as ever for the entire match, bringing the mercenaries back from the great beyond time and time again, just as it had been designed to do.

Scout and Soldier had just been revived when it happened; the two men taking a moment to shake off the inevitable rush of nausea that came from going through the unholy machine. An Ubercharged Heavy had taken both them and their teammate, Y/N, known officially as the Chemist, out as the hulking giant made a final push to capture one of their points, and both BLU men knew it was only a matter of time before they heard the biting voice of the Administrator informing them of their failure.

Scout scuffed his sneaker against the concrete floor of the Respawn Room as Soldier launched into a furious rant, leaning against the wall as he waited for Y/N to come through, knowing that they'd been killed only a moment after him. He sighed when felt the gentle pulse of the machine as it vibrated like a speaker, getting ready to return his friend to the world of the living.

SKREEEEEECHHHH- BOOM!

A blast of hot air sent the two men crashing into the wall, stunning them momentarily. It was Soldier who regained his wits first, the BLU quickly pushing up his helmet and looking back at the source of the damage in shock and mounting horror. 

“Aeughhhh… what da hell just happened?” Scout moaned, one of his hands rubbing against his throbbing forehead. He blinked, his blurred vision slowly clearing, and as he regained his sight, his eyes began to widen.

Respawn was on fire.

Flames licked hungrily at the walls as they spread out further from the Respawn Machine, with the contraption itself bathed in white and blue hues, the intense heat making quick work of what hadn't been destroyed in the explosion. Shards of complex metals and pools of gleaming Australium were littered all over the room, reflecting the light of the fire.

“HOLY CRAP!” Scout yelped, adrenaline coursing through his body as he attempted to scramble up off the floor.

His voice jolted Soldier out of his shocked state, and he shot a hand out to grab the back of Scout's shirt and yank him along as he made for the door. 

“Emergency! Cease fighting immediately!” The Administrator's voice boomed out over the battlefield, the old woman's voice sounding more shocked than stern for once. 

Scout finally found his footing as he pulled out of Soldier's grip, spinning around to stare at the encroaching flames. Fear roiled in his gut like an angry serpent as his disoriented mind finally allowed the reality of their situation to sink in. Respawn was gone. 

Death was permanent once again.

“Private, this is no time to be standing around! We need to go!”

They could die. For real.

“Scout!”

If they'd come through only a moment earlier, they wouldn't have come back at all. 

Wait��

“Solly, where's Chem?”

Soldier paused in his attempt to drag Scout down the hall, his gaze snapping back towards Respawn. He hadn't seen them when he'd grabbed Scout, too focused on getting away from the rapidly approaching fire, but he'd assumed that they were right behind him.

“They probably snuck past us! They're sneaky like that.” he replied. That had to be it! Otherwise that would mean they…

Scout looked down the hall, searching for any sign of the Chemist, before looking back towards Respawn, his face paling. He jerked forward, sprinting towards the blaze. 

“Chem! Chem, hang on!” Scout yelled, reaching the doorway in only a few seconds, his eyes desperately searching for where his friend could possibly be. 

The room was as empty as it had seemed before. There was no trace of the Chemist, alive or dead, to be found in the room. 

They hadn't made it through.

“What in the Sam Hill is goin’ on here?!”

Scout wrenched himself away from the door as he heard his teammates gasp behind him. Engineer was up by his side in an instant, his mechanical hand gripping the doorframe so hard it cracked the material. He pushed his goggles up, and Scout could see real fear in the other's eyes.

“Vhat zhe hell happened? Zhe Respavn Machine vas fine only moments ago vhen I came through!” Medic said, pausing as he looked at Scout, who was trembling. Gently, the doctor led the young man away from the fire, “Scout? Are you alright? Vere you injured?”

“Chem’s gone.” was Scout's quiet reply.

“Vhat?”

“They was suppose’ta come through after me ‘n Solly, but Respawn went up in flames before they could come through.” the runner's voice was shaky and hollow, and he leaned more of his weight against Medic as his legs started to feel less dependable than usual, “They're gone. Like, gone gone.”

The gathered mercenaries went quiet, the only sounds being that of the crackling flames and Scout and Soldier's laboured breathing.

“DAMN IT!” Engineer bellowed, throwing his hard hat onto the ground, “GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!”

Medic closed his eyes, bringing a gloved hand up to his face as a wave of grief crashed down on him. He'd been rather fond of their newest teammate, glad to have someone around who was as interested in risky experiments as he was. The Chemist had often taken up many of the smaller, more neglected duties around the base, such as cooking proper meals and making sure that Medic's less used medical supplies stayed topped up, in case of emergencies. They'd also been of great help in wrangling some of his more… problematic patients, using their charms (or stealth) to herd them into the Medbay for check ups or shots.

He watched them die every day, but this was different. This was permanent. The machine he and Engineer had worked so hard to build, the one that had allowed them to cheat death time and time again, had finally taken its pound of flesh. Y/N had been taken from them, from him, before he'd been ready to let them go.

Now, this usually wouldn't have been a problem; committing sins against both God and nature was something he did quite often and with great delight, and he was sure he could wrest Y/N back from the afterlife, provided that he had access to their body.

And therein lay the problem. There was no body. Respawn hadn't even spat them out half formed or thrown them into the flames, it had simply not reconstructed them. Whatever remained of the Chemist was likely nothing more than a partially formed mist of human remains that had burned up almost instantaneously.

The tenth class was no more, and there was nothing Medic could do.

“Aw, hell,” Engineer gritted out finally, looking back at his teammates with a tired, beatdown expression, “Christ, someone go ‘n track down a fire extinguisher. If we don't get this under control soon, we'll all end up dead.”

Seeing an opportunity to both flee the horrific scene and be useful, Scout ran off like a bat out of Hell, skidding around a corner and disappearing from sight. Soldier, who was being uncharacteristically quiet and still, made to follow him, but Engineer stopped him before he could take more than a few steps.

“Hold on, pardner. I need you to round everyone up and let ‘em know what- what happened.” the southerner swallowed hard, trying his best to push down his emotions for the time being, “The last thing we need right now is to lose someone else because someone did somthin’ stupid and got themselves killed.”

Soldier thought of how often Demo tested his equipment after their daily battles, especially after a loss, and stopped only long enough to give Engineer a salute before rushing off, determined not to lose any more teammates.

“Gott, vhat a mess.” Medic whispered hoarsely, mentally preparing himself for the utter shit show that was inevitably coming their way. The Chemist had been a friend to all of them, even to Spy, who pretended that he didn't care, and losing them was going to be hard on everyone.

Personal loss wasn't something the mercenaries were used to, lulled into a sense of security, of immortality, by the Respawn Machine. After all, why be afraid of death when you knew that you would be back in what felt like only an instant? None of them ever considered that Respawn might fail one day.

“C’mon, Doc. We can't stay here.” Engineer said, leading his co-worker-turned-friend away from the fire.

“Ack!” 

You yelped as you tumbled face first out of Respawn, hitting the floor hard and fast. You hissed in pain, pushing yourself up and rubbing a hand over your aching face. Instinctively, you check over the various vials of chemicals you have strapped to your person, praying that your odd tumble hasn't resulted in anything breaking.

A sigh of relief passes your lips as you determine nothing to be out of place or wrecked. You pulled yourself to your feet, stretching and cracking your knuckles. Christ, the RED Heavy must have gotten you good that time, because you felt just awful. Exhaustion made you slouch slightly, and your stomach ached something fierce.

After bracing yourself for the inevitable screech of the Administrator's voice telling you that you had failed, you allowed your eyes to fall open, expecting to see Scout and Soldier's sour faces.

An unfamiliar room greeted you, wooden planks replacing the expected concrete. Dust lingered around the space, and your only company was a chittering raccoon, which startled and ran off upon seeing you.

What the fuck was going on?

“Hell-o?” you called, confusing coloring your tone, “Scout? Soldier? Anyone?”

Silence greeted you. Not even the sound of gunfire and shouting could be heard, only the sound of a fierce wind blowing outside.

Thoroughly confused and more than a little creeped out, you stepped out of Respawn, head constantly swiveling about as you called for your teammates. However, no matter how much you yelled, no one ever responded. No matter how much you searched, you couldn't find anyone. No matter how much you listened, not a soul could be heard.

“What the fuck. What the fuck.” you chanted, rubbing your arms. It was so cold here, and your outfit was designed for the New Mexico heat. 

Your breaths came in steamy puffs, and you could feel goosebumps prickling along your arms as you made your way towards what you hoped was the Intel Room. Whatever it was that was going on, you were too tired and too sore to try and puzzle it out. If this was some kind of elaborate prank, you were going to kill whoever was responsible, because the last thing you wanted to deal with after such a rough day was this creepy bullshit.

Finally, after a solid hour of getting lost within this bizarre, wintery base, you managed to find the Intel Room. A phone, blue in colour, sat mounted on the wall only a few feet away. Wasting no time, you dialed the number Miss Pauling had given you to use if there was ever an emergency, or if Engineer and Medic started spending too much time together again. (The last time they'd gone unchecked for too long, the base had become overrun by something they called Spycrabs. It took weeks for you and your team to get rid of them, though you were fairly certain both Spy and Pyro had managed to hide one to keep as a pet.)

“Aperture Bakery, where the cake definitely isn't a lie! This is Tammy speaking, how can I help you?” an obviously fake cheery voice greeted you after only two rings, and you smiled slightly.

“Jesus, Pauling, I think that's your worst ‘wrong number’ persona yet.” you groused, no real venom in your voice.

“...Y/N?” Miss Pauling’s voice suddenly became very soft and disbelieving, something you'd never heard it do.

You frowned, your brow furrowing. “Yeah, that's me, last I checked. I thought you were supposed to call me Chemist, though?”

“Holy shit, you're alive?!” she shouted, the volume causing you to pull back slightly, “How are you alive?!” 

“Uhhhhh,” you stammered, completely at a loss as to how you were supposed to respond, “I… I breathe? And eat? And sleep? Jeez, Pauling, I don't know what you want from me here.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, one that lasted so long, you began to worry Miss Pauling had hung up on you.

“Hello?” you tried.

“Oh! Shoot, sorry, I'm still here! I just-” there was a sound like papers being moved, “Chemist, what is the last thing you remember?”

“Losing the point and getting shot to pieces, why?” Was this a test? Had you already failed somehow?

“Right, yeah, okay that makes sense.” Miss Pauling took a deep breath, and you shifted uncomfortably, sensing that something was wrong.

“Chemist, Y/N, you've been declared dead for just over a week now.” 

The phone slipped from your grasp, and it was only years worth of training and quick reflexes that kept it from smashing into the wall. You gripped the phone right, pressing it tightly into your ear as you spoke. “I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you right, Miss Pauling. Would you mind repeating that?”

“You were dead, Chemist. Something happened to BLU’s Respawn Machine, and it was completely destroyed before you could come back. I- I don't know how or why it took so long for you to come back this time, but I'm so glad you did.”

You all but collapsed onto the wall, your free hand tangling itself in your hair. You'd died? Like, died for real? The thought made your stomach turn, and you had to suppress the urge to vomit.

“Pauling, Christ, I-” you swallowed, breathing in through your nose, “Is everyone else okay? Oh God, please tell me no one else… died.”

“No, no, no! Everyone's- well they're not fine, but they're all alive. The Administrator called for an emergency ceasefire the minute she saw what happened, and both teams got the message pretty quickly that something was wrong. The ceasefire is still in effect, since everyone needs to be relocated to one of the other base locations.” Miss Pauling replied.

You audibly sighed in relief, tension leaving your body as you uttered a soft ‘Oh, thank God.’ “I think that's where I ended up. One of the other bases, I mean. It's fucking freezing here, Pauly.”

“Shit, you're that far out?” Miss Pauling sucked in a breath through her teeth, “Okay, just- just stay put, alright? There's not going to be any supplies there, so just fine somewhere warm and try not to move too much. I'm going to come get you, okay?”

“Okay.” you replied, smiling slightly as you heard her immediately begin to gather various items on her desk, “Thank you, Miss Pauling. I know you're busy.”

“I'm never too busy for my mercenaries, especially when they manage to defy all logic and cheat death more than they usually do.” a warm, fuzzy feeling settled in your chest at her words, and it remained even after you hung up. There was something so viscerally pleasing about being wanted, about having someone care for you.

Worn out from your return to the living world, you peeled yourself away from the wall and wandered around the base a bit, before locating what had to be the common room. A couch and a few chairs were tucked in around an unlit fireplace. There wasn't anything around to burn, and you didn't feel up to going out to find something suitable, so you chose instead to simply curl up on the couch. Once you laid down, it was as if all of your strength left your body. The aches and pains that plagued you became more apparent, and your stomach growled and gurgled loudly. You were starving, but as Miss Pauling had said, there was no food at the base, and you certainly weren't going to be able to hunt any animals that might be scuttling around.

Resigning yourself to a fitful sleep and an empty stomach, you closed your eyes and pressed yourself in closer to the back of the couch, slowly drifting off into a light slumber.

The BLU base had never been so quiet. It was not a calm quiet, like one might find if they walked into a library, or in a room full of people simply enjoying each other's company while they entertained themselves, but rather a tense, unnatural quiet. A mercenary base with nine men living in it should have been full of noise and movement, but each member of the BLU team seemed more than happy to break away from the norm today.

Engineer was holed up in his workshop, pouring over blueprints, both new and old, determined to find some flaw, some imperfection, some failure, that could give him an answer as to why the Respawn Machine had gone up in flames. He needed to find the problem so that he could fix it. He couldn't leave things as they were; everyone, even the RED team, once they'd found out what had happened, felt unsafe going through any of the Respawn Machines, since no one knew what exactly had gone wrong.

Medic was working himself to exhaustion right alongside him, while also fretting over packing up his birds and equipment on such short notice. They weren't due to rotate out to another base for another month, but the accident had pushed the timeline up to a few days. What's more is that he needed to review the applications for a new Chemist, though he'd been putting that particular task off for as long as possible. He'd never once needed to replace a teammate, nor had he ever expected to. The process of both finding someone who was Respawn compatible and willing to fight and die everyday was an arduous one indeed, and Medic could feel a stress induced migraine begin to come on whenever he even glanced at the paperwork.

Heavy had been trying his best to help Medic prepare for the move, but he, like everyone else, was feeling the effects of their friend's sudden death. He kept expecting to hear their voice coming from the kitchen, or to see them waltz through a door with some manner of bubbling condition held in their arms. Often, he caught himself setting out the supplies for two sandviches, only realizing his mistake when he had plated the food. 

Pyro had firmly planted themselves in the Chemist's room, taking special, delicate care to pack up their things into neat little boxes. When Medic had gently floated the idea of reusing their supplies for the next Chemist, Pyro had chased the doctor around the base with their fire axe. There were drawings of the two of them taped carefully to the wall, gifted to the Chemist by the resident firebug, and Pyro left them for last, wanting to keep pretending that they were simply packing up to move like the rest of them. When they'd nearly finished, Pyro noticed that the Chemist's uniforms, which had been folded up on their friend's bed, had mysteriously disappeared. They'd panicked for a moment, before the faint smell of cigarette smoke filtered through their mask.

Sure enough, the clothes were returned the following morning, freshly washed, dried, and without any wrinkles. Any and all holes or rips had been carefully hand stitched with expert precision. There was also a single rose lovingly tucked into one of the pockets on the outfit the Chemist wore most frequently.

Demo could often be found in the company of Soldier, sitting out on some roof or bridge, nursing his tenth or so bottle. Soldier didn't drink nearly as much, but when he inevitably did get drunk, only he and Demo knew about the few tears that would slip down his cheek. Neither acknowledged it, nor the sinking fear of having to inevitably go through Respawn again that sat like lead bullets in their guts.

Scout ran to ignore that same sense of fear and loss, to push it down into the deepest parts of himself. He ran from sunrise to sunset, pausing only when he absolutely needed to. Sometimes, when he would stop, panting and sweating and one small breeze away from toppling over, if he was in just the right spot at just the right time, he'd catch a glimpse of Sniper, tucked away on some far off cliffside or peering down from a tall, rickety building. The marksman hadn't been seen in the base proper since the accident, but he was always around somewhere, watching day and night to ensure nothing happened to his remaining teammates during the ceasefire.

So it was no wonder that it was him who first spotted a frantic looking Miss Pauling as she parked her scooter and dashed off towards one of the base entrances.

Curious, Sniper pushed himself up out of his hiding place, ignored the burning sensation that rippled through his taunt, stiff muscles, and started to make his way down to the base. He didn't make any attempt to soften his footsteps, but he also didn't call any attention to himself. The dark haired woman had been heading for Engineer's workshop, so that's where Sniper went.

Just before he could reach the door that led to the workshop, he collided with someone coming down the hall. He let out a quiet ‘oof’ and stumbled back, baring his teeth instinctively when he saw an expensive suit and steely blue eyes. He calmed, however, when he saw that this Spy was dressed in his team's colours 

“Bushman.” came Spy's snide greeting. The Frenchman eyed Sniper up and down, “You look like shit.”

“I could say the same for you, mate.” Sniper sneered back, and he really could have.

There were heavy bags around Spy's eyes, and he smelled as though he'd been absolutely chewing through his expensive, imported cigarettes. Clearly, the man had been coping just as well as Sniper had.

“I'm shocked to see zhat you are no longer wallowing in your mobile hovel, or rolling around in zhe dirt, or whatever it is that you've been doing zhese days.” Spy raised a brow, “What has brought you back to zhis cheap imitation of civilization?”

Now, normally, this would be the point in their conversation where Sniper would tell Spy to not-so-kindly fuck off, but the Australian was running on coffee and will, and Spy was good at getting information. If Miss Pauling’s sudden appearance was supposed to be a secret, then Spy would be Sniper’s first choice for a partner in crime.

“Miss Pauling just showed up lookin’ real frazzled, and I want to know why. I didn't get any alerts or messages, did you?” Sniper asked.

Spy pursed his lips. “Non, I did not.”

Both men's gazes flicked towards the workshop door, and before either could contemplate if this was a good idea or not, Spy had cloaked and Sniper was pushing the door open slowly. A conversation came into earshot as the door opened silently.

“Engie! Thank God you're here!”

“Miss Pauling? What are you doin’ here?”

“There's no time, I need to borrow your truck!”

“Whu- mah truck? What for?”

“Listen, I need to get up North. Fast. And my scooter isn't going to cut it for this trip. Also, I think I might need that emergency dispenser you guys built a while back.”

Sniper's eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. Miss Pauling did many things to people, but healing them wasn't something he'd ever heard of her doing.

“Well, now, see that there dispenser is still a prototype. It ain't ready for fieldwork yet- HEY!”

“Sorry Engie! Look, I promise I will bring the truck and the dispenser back, but I really need to get going! If this works, I'll bring back something that will make up for all of this.”

“And just what the hell would that be?!”

“Your Chemist!”

Sniper jolted, his body moving faster than his mind, which was still struggling to understand what he'd just heard. He gripped the guardrails that overlooked the lower floor, arriving just in time to see Miss Pauling putting the pedal to the metal and hauling ass out of the workshop in Engineer's truck. Engineer himself was standing stock still on the workshop floor, hand still raised mid gesture.

A set of hands suddenly grabbed Sniper by the shoulders and spun him around. Spy was staring at him, eyes alight in a way Sniper hadn't seen in a long time.

“Bushman, you can fit at least four people in your disgusting van, yes?” the man asked, squeezing harder when Sniper's mouth failed to make words come out, “Well?!”

“Eh- ur- yeah mate, that's right.” Sniper nodded finally, still reeling from the idea that Chemist might still be alive, “What's it to ya, Spook?”

“Gather up Soldier, Heavy, and Demo. I will take Medic, Scout, Pyro and Engineer in my car. We need to get going immediately if we want any chance of catching up to Miss Pauling!” he exclaimed.

Sniper's eyes widened as he understood what Spy was saying. The Frenchman wanted to follow Miss Pauling, to see their supposedly not dead teammate for himself, and he knew the rest of them well enough to know that if they didn't take them along, then the others would find their own way to them. That, or they'd simply destroy the base if left alone for too long, and Sniper was willing to bet that Spy didn't want to risk Pyro or Soldier destroying his precious suit collection.

‘Still,’ Sniper mused, ‘It’s nice to see that Spook cares about our feelings, even if it is mostly for ‘is benefit.’

“Right, I'll go round up the boys. You focus on snapp’n Engie outta his stupor, yeah?” Sniper agreed.

Spy nodded, and the two separated, with Sniper wasting no time in flying back down the hall. Obsessively stalking- er, observing everyone over the course of the week had granted him a decent understanding of where they chose to spend their time while in mourning.

Heavy and Medic were up first, and Sniper knew exactly where they'd be. With a swift kick, he burst into the Medbay, startling both the pair and all of the birds.

“Augh! Herr Sniper, vhat do you think you're doing, barging in here like-” Medic started, but Sniper cut him off.

“Can it, Doc! Pauling was just ‘ere, and she says Y/N is alive!” Sniper exclaimed. The other two men's eyes widened, and Medic almost dropped the glass beaker he was holding. “She sped off a moment ago, and we're gonna follow ‘er. Spy's taking you, Scooter, Engie and Py in ‘is car, while I'm takin’ the rest.”

The dynamic duo shook off their shock and nodded.

“Heavy will grab Soldier and Demolitions. Leetle Sniper will find Pyro in their room.” Heavy paused, then fixed Sniper with a stern look. “Be very careful how you tell news. Fire starter has… not been taking loss well. May attack, if they think you are playing joke.”

Sniper gulped quietly. “Think we should hold off on tellin’ them why we're really leaving?”

Medic shook his head quickly. “Nien. Zhough it is not alvays apparent, Pyro is quite intelligent. Lying to zhem about zhis will not end well for any of us.”

The marksman winced, remembering the feeling of fire blasting across his skin. “Too right. Okay, I'll handle Pyro, and Heavy’s gettin’ the drunk bastards. Hopefully they can sober up a bit, because I do not want those two sicking up in my van.”

Suddenly, a thought came to him.

“Oh, and bring yer Medigun. Miss Pauling mentioned something about need’n the emergency dispenser, but Engie didn't seem too confident that it would work.”

Medic's face crumpled up in distress. “And he shouldn't be! Zhat machine is just as likely to kill both zhe Chemist and Frauline Pauling as it is to heal zhem.”

“Shit.” Sniper swore, “We better be quick, then.”

The three men scattered, each one going in a different direction. Sniper hauled ass towards the barracks, eyes flicking to the different class symbols that marked each of the doors. He had only ever been here once, but picking out the little blue and yellow picture of a bubbling vial was easy enough.

He skidded to a stop before the door, taking a second to rap his knuckles against the wood before pushing the door open. 

Pyro was where Heavy had said they would be, sitting on their friend's neatly made bed, their stuffed Balloonicorn clasped tightly in their grip as they rocked slightly. Pyro tilted their head at Sniper, communicating their confusion at the man's sudden appearance.

“C’mon, matchstick. We gotta get going right quick now.” Sniper panted, motioning for Pyro to follow, “Miss Pauling was just here, and she seems pretty damn convinced that our Chemist isn't as dead as we all thought.”

Pyro stilled on the bed, their masked face staring right into Sniper's soul. The Australian licked his chapped lips, feeling a sense of unease creep across the nape of his neck. After a moment of relative silence, Pyro seemed to find no deception in his words, and quickly leapt up, pausing only to grab their axe and holster it on their back.

“Huddah huddah huddah!” They yelled, voice muffled by the mask. A thick rubber glove suddenly gripped Sniper's vest, and the marksman found himself getting dragged along towards an exit.

Barely able to keep up with Pyro’s quick stride, Sniper stumbled a bit, all but crashing into the firebug when the large door before them slid open. 

“Let's go, let's go, let's go!” Scout's voice carried across the desert base as the young man practically flew towards the workshop, clearly having been told the news, “Py, Snipes, let's friggin hustle! We got places to be, ya bunch a slowasses!”

“Piss off, ya bloody roadrunner! We're goin’ as fast as we can!” Sniper shot back, no real venom in his voice. He knew that Scout had been hit hard by the loss of their teammate, especially since he and Soldier had been the last ones to see them. The kid was more sensitive then the rest of them, especially when it came to someone he cared about dying

Scout slowed ever so slightly, just enough to grab ahold of Pyro's hand. The runner and the arsonist took off together to where Spy was waiting, and Sniper deviated off towards his van.

Heavy was already waiting for him when he arrived, the hulking giant holding both Soldier and Demo over his shoulders. The two had clearly had more to drink than usual, because neither of them were conscious. Sniper contemplated waking them for a moment; this was important after all, and he knew neither man would want to be left out of the loop.

And then he considered how completely insufferable the duo would be if they were awake, and he simply nodded towards the back of the van as he moved to sit in the driver's seat.

Heavy joined him a few moments later, and they were off, speeding down a dusty New Mexico road. Spy's expensive, gleaming vehicle was tearing down the same road as them, the light of the gradually setting sun bouncing off the well maintained blue paint job. He'd told Sniper the name once, while also threatening to gut the marksman if he so much as stepped near the vehicle, but Sniper couldn't be bothered to memorize it.

Sniper had thought that Spy wouldn't ever dare go as fast as he was now, what with all the potholes and tumbleweeds around that could potentially damage the Frenchman's precious ride, but perhaps he'd underestimated how much losing the Chemist had weighed on their most elusive teammate. Spy, for all his aloofness, did occasionally let slip the fact that he actually liked his teammates. Sometimes. Rarely. And usually in some strange, hard to interpret way.

He saw Scout's head pop out of one of the backseat windows, and the lad raised a hand to shield his eyes, like he was trying to see something in the distance. He must have spotted something other than desert, because he pointed towards an upcoming side road before popping back inside.

Sure enough, the car skidded around the corner, and Sniper followed, squinting his own eyes in an attempt to see what Scout had been pointing at.

Tire tracks marred the road, ones that hadn't been caused by Spy's quick turn, but that were also very recent. Sniper grinned and pressed harder on the gas, accelerating until he was only a few feet behind the other vehicle. 

He'd never had a target escape before, and Miss Pauling wasn't about to make him break that streak.

Cold.

You were so cold.

You'd awoken to the sound of your teeth chattering, the sound only made worse when another wave of ripples inevitably wracked your prone form. Each breath came as a gasping wheeze, catching on the film of phlegm that had made a home in your throat and chest. Your stomach felt almost alive in your guts, spitting acid on your sensitive middle as it growled and snarled and roared for food that you couldn't give it. 

You tried to get up, but your body began to shake and wobble dangerously as you began putting pressure on your forearm. Apparently, all your energy had been diverted to shivering in a, perhaps futile, attempt to keep your internal organs from freezing over. Breathing out a puff of warm air, you slid your hands over your chest and stomach, eyes widening as you realized that something was deeply, deeply wrong.

Gone was your well earned muscles and insulating body fat. You felt dangerously thin, like a starved greyhound. Whatever dark magic and science pulled you back from death had seemingly lost most of your fat and muscle reserves in the process. Truly, it was a miracle that you'd been able to walk at all!

You were in a bad spot, and you weren't sure Respawn would be able to save you again, should the worst happen. After all, no merc had ever starved to death before, and you had no idea what would happen if you did. 

‘That’s not going to happen.’ You tried to reassure yourself, ‘Pauling will come to get me.’

How long had you been asleep? It hadn't felt like long, but there were no windows in this common room, and it wasn't as though you could rely on your stomach to tell you that a great deal of time had passed.

With little else to do, you lay your head back down on the cold couch cushions, attempting to curl up closer to the plush, velvety fabric. You tucked your arms into your armpits and folded your knees up close to your chest as you shivered once again. You'd lost feeling in your toes and fingers, but you could still, with great difficulty, wiggle them, which you counted as a win. Your eyes slipped shut as you turned your face down towards your chest, nose buried in the fabric of your uniform in a desperate attempt to seek out any scrap of warmth.

Sleep came easy enough, but it was far from a peaceful rest. Nightmares of endless darkness and being reborn wrong plagued your mind. You woke frequently, but exhaustion dragged you back into unconsciousness just as quickly. Each time you awoke, you were reminded of just how hungry you were, and the urge to gnaw at your own dangerously thin arms grew in intensity. Thirst plagued you as well, and each time your failing mind allowed it, you licked desperately at the inside of your mouth, trying to acquire some moisture for your sandpaper-esque throat.

On your next return to the waking world, as you stared out towards the door that led to the hallway, contemplating drinking one of your fatal mixtures, if only to end your suffering and quicken your return to Respawn, a sound echoed out into the lonely building. You lifted your head, blearily squinting towards the door. Had that been real? Or simply an illusion, a trick crafted by your starved brain?

“Chem? Chem, can you hear me?!”

Miss Pauling.

She did come for you!

You grinned, the action pulling at your chapped lips. You tried to call out, but all you managed was a slight cough. Huffing, you flopped your head back down, eyes locked on the door. You knew that she knew where the phone was in this place; there was no way someone like Miss Pauling didn’t know the ins and outs of every place her mercs set up shop in, so it was only a matter of time before she found you.

Sure enough, after a few minutes passed you began to hear footsteps pounding down the hall. It wasn’t the heavy, familiar footfalls of your team, but rather a lighter, quieter sound. A blurry purple figure entered your field of vision, and after your eyes finally focused, you saw a disheveled, red-cheeked Miss Pauling standing before you.

“Hey there, stranger.” You rasped, wincing slightly when you felt hands suddenly cup your cheeks. Pauling’s hands were warm and slightly calloused, and you blinked slowly, leaning into her touch.

“Jesus Christ, Chem. You never do anything by halves, huh?” Pauling laughed, though the noise came out more like a sob.

“Can't. I wouldn't be a very good Chemist if I did, right?” You joked softly, your eyelids drooping slowly as you began to relax, “Things’d be spillin’ all over the place.”

“Woah, hey!” A series of quick, rapid taps against your cheeks made you open your eyes again, “Stay awake, okay? You're in rough shape, but I brought- well, stole but that's really not important- Engie's truck and his little mini dispenser thing-”

“You stole Engie’s truck?” You interrupted, voice tinged with a sense of horrified awe, “He's gonna kill you.”

The raven haired woman gave you a half smile as she reached an arm under you, pulling you up to your feet to stand beside her. Your vision swam, and you had to lean heavily into her.

“I think bringing you back will soften him up a bit.” She said, looping your arm around her shoulders, “Come on, let's get you to the truck. You look like you're about to pass out.”

“I might.” You admitted. “Got anything to eat? I'm starving.”

Miss Pauling glanced over your emaciated form. “That… actually might be the case. When Respawn brings someone back, it usually leaves them feeling a little bit drained, and it's why you're all so hungry at the end of a battle. Respawning takes energy, and I'd say this last trip took almost all of yours. It ate right through your fat and muscle reserves!”

“Ah,” You replied, “I was afraid that might be the case. What happens if I Respawn again?”

“It's… it's probably best if we don't test that out.”

The two of you walked through the base in silence after that, with you leaning heavily on Miss Pauling for support. She didn't seem to mind, however; though you often caught her casting worried glances at you. You felt the temperature in the air steadily drop as you reached the entrance to the base, yet you were still caught off guard when a chilly blast of wintry air smacked you in the face. Snow swirled all around you, coating the base and battlefield in white. The first rays of an early morning sunrise were just starting to peak over the horizon, giving you enough light to see by.

In the distance, you could see Engie's truck, the blue vehicle standing out amidst the white. However, something seemed… off about the truck. You squinted, trying to figure out what was wrong.

“Hey P, did you bring a… a dog with you?” You mumbled, tilting your head at the canine shape that stood in the headlights.

“What?” Miss Pauling looked confused for a moment, before she, too, saw the creature. “What is… uh oh.”

“Uh oh? Why uh oh?” You questioned, before taking a closer look at the dog, which was now slowly moving towards the two of you.

Oh.

Uh oh indeed.

It wasn't a dog.

It was a wolf.

The beast was huge, with a thick, ungroomed black coat and amber eyes that glowed a bright, golden color in the early morning. It growled as it approached, and you could see saliva frothing at its mouth.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” You balked, stumbling as Miss Pauling pulled you both back, “A rabid wolf. Why not!”

“How did it even contract rabies all the way out here?!” Miss Pauling yelped, quickly drawing her pistol. You eyed the small gun, wondering if she could aim well enough to shoot the hulking animal with your dead weight hanging off her.

Left with no other options, you weakly pawed at your coat, trying to locate something that could help you fight off the rabid beast. You had all the ingredients needed to make something truly dangerous, but if you tried to mix them now, you'd just as likely make something that would kill you before the wolf could.

Grabbing something that would at least blind the animal, you braced yourself as best you could, ready to try and help Miss Pauling fight.

“INCOMING!”

You, Miss Pauling, and the wolf all turned your heads as one, eyes widening when Sniper's van suddenly emerged from the snowstorm like the chariot of an angry Australian god. The vehicle slammed into the wolf, sending it flying out of sight. A few seconds later, an expensive looking car skidded to a stop a few feet away, one of the back doors opening before the car could even fully stop. 

Scout came barreling out first, slipping on the snow and ice as he tried to regain his balance. Sniper, Heavy, and Spy followed suit, with the other's appearing behind them. They all looked absolutely horrendous; their eye bags had eye bags, Soldier and Sniper clearly needed to shave, and none of them were even remotely dressed for the cold weather of the north.

But they had never looked better to you.

Scout spotted you first, and you hardly had time to blink before the Bostonian was upon you, yanking you out of Miss Pauling's hold and into his arms.

“You're alive! Holy crap you're alive!” Scout cried, spinning you around and pressing his face into your shoulder.

Pyro joined you next, the arsonist all but smothering both you and Scout as they sobbed. You patted their back, leaning into their warm suit, attempting to leech their abundant body heat.

Before you could get a word out, a fierce yell startled you into a defensive stance. Suddenly, you were being held up by your armpits and being shook like a maraca.

“DO NOT PULL SUCH A STUNT AGAIN, MAGGOT!” Soldier yelled angrily, but you caught a glimpse of wet eyes under his helmet, “IF YOU DIE LIKE THAT AGAIN I WILL PERSONALLY RIP YOUR YELLOW-BELLIED SOUL RIGHT OUT OF HELL!”

“Sol, put them down, consarnit!” Engineer chided, smacking Soldier in the side. Once the helmeted man set you back down onto the ground, Engineer pulled you into a warm, firm hug, his flesh hand coming to rest on the back of your neck.

“Hey Engie.” You murmured softly, “Don’t be mad at Miss P, okay?”

“Buddy, ah’m gonna be treatin’ her to a steak dinner after this.” he chuckled, before gently passing you over to someone else, “Here, Demo. Be careful with ‘em. They ain’t lookin’ too good right now.”

“Aye, ya look like shite, dont’cha?” Demo laughed softly, gently ruffling your hair before pulling you into a hug, tucking you under his chin. “Ah, I’m glad yer alright. Ye gave us a right scare, ya wee bastard!”

“Sorry.” You chuckled, leaning into his chest. Demo patted your shoulder, before you were released and spun around to see Medic, Heavy, Spy and Sniper. While Heavy lifted you up into one arm, Miss Pauline began questioning how the mercenaries had found out where you and her were.

Medic descended upon you like a mother hen, fretting about the poor state you were in while simultaneously raving about the unexplored limits of the Respawn Machines. He plucked a few tablets out of a bottle in one of his coat pockets, instructing you to swallow, not chew them as Sniper handed you a well worn thermos. It was warm, and when you opened the lid, the smell of coffee hit your nose. A quick sip revealed that it was made just how you liked, which made you smile, because it meant that the usually unsociable marksman had gone out of his way to make the drink specifically for you.

“Here, mon ami,” Spy strode forward, a blanket draped over his arm. He wrapped it around your shoulders gently, tucking it in tightly, almost like your parents would do for you when you were small, “this should warm you up a bit.”

The tenderness of your usually tough, rowdy teammates made you sniffle, and you snuggled in closer to Heavy, clutching your thermos.

“I love you guys.” You said, your voice wavering with emotion, rather than cold this time, “Seriously. I- there isn’t a better team out there.”

Your praise made the gathered men puff up slightly. It was clear your opinion mattered a great deal to them.

“Hell yeah! We’re da’ freakin’ best!” Scout shouted.

“Leetle Chemist is included in that.” Heavy added, and you blushed slightly.

“Heavy is right, mein Chemiker.” Medic agreed, “Jou have cheated Death more zhen anyone else before jou! It is truly amazing!”

“I don’t feel amazing.” You said, quickly sipping the offered coffee.

“Vell, you are severely malnutritioned, so I am not surprised.” Medic replied. “Ah, don’t drink zhat so fast. Jou’ll just zhrow it back up.” 

Once the word ‘malnutritioned’ passed the doctor’s lips, you could practically hear Engineer’s ears perk up. You were sure many home cooked meals with Engie in his workshop were in your future.

“Come on, mate, let’s get em’ outta the cold, yeah?” Sniper suggested to Heavy, gesturing towards his van. Spy snorted.

“Please, you want to have our dear Chemist rest in zhat thing? The last thing zhey need is to be surrounded by piss and crocodile jerky.” he snarked, which drew a disgruntled sneer from Sniper.

“Oi! My van is perfectly clean, and its leagues bettah than your dinky lil’ car! You just wanna hog all their attention ‘cause you’re a needy, selfish buggah!” Sniper shot back.

Heavy sighed deeply as the two men started arguing, before looking down at you.

“Heavy thinks it would be best for leetle Chemist to ride with Engineer in his truck for now. Team is very excited you are alive, and this makes them act-” the two of you winced as Soldier started yelling again, “more like loud idiots than usual, да?”

“At this point, big guy, I’d welcome the noise.” You admitted, “It was… quiet here. And lonely.”

Heavy looked at you with a saddened expression. “How long were you alone for?”

“A… a day, I think. It was hard to tell, since there were no windows.” You glanced over in the direction the wolf had been flung. “Honestly, that might have been for the best, considering what was waiting out here for me and Miss Pauling when we finally got outside.”

“Was wolf, yes? Heavy could not see very well, but it looked like wolf.” The heavy weapons expert said as he started off towards Engineer’s truck.

“Yeah, it was a wolf. A rabid one. You guys showed up just in time. I was afraid it would get close enough to bite us.” You shivered, pulling your blanket in closer.

“Miss Pauling would not have allowed that. She is small woman, yes, but very fierce.” Heavy paused for a moment, looked over at Scout and Soldier, who were talking to Miss Pauling, then leaned in to whisper: “She is better shot than some of the team. Do not tell them I said this.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t say a word.” You winked as Heavy gently set you down in the passenger seat, careful not to jostle you. The seat was still warm from the heater, and you relished in it, almost not even noticing when Engineer slipped into the driver’s seat next to you. 

“Buckle up, darl’.” He grinned, reaching to pull the seat belt over your chest.

“Thanks, Engie.” You returned his smile and lay back, resting your head against your seat belt. 

As you got comfortable, you noticed that the truck had an extra few passengers. Pyro waved to you from the back as both Soldier and Scout climbed up into the bed. Both men looked visibly cold, but they stubbornly plonked themselves down, dead set on staying near you. Just in case.

Spy and Sniper finally stopped squabbling when they realized that you were no longer around to fight over, and both slunk back to their respective vehicles as Engineer started up his truck. Miss Pauling and Medic followed Spy, while Demo and Heavy trailed after Sniper. Knowing your team, there would be another fight the second you all stopped for gas or food, likely over who you should sit with for the rest of the drive back. Honestly, it was like being back in school, surrounded by a friend group of mentally ill lunatics who fought like spoiled dogs for your attention.

You wouldn’t change a thing. You were, after all, just as needy and clingy as the rest of them, and you knew you’d be even more desperate to be near someone all the time, afraid to be back in that horrid silence.

How wonderful for you, then, that you had 8 men, 1 woman, and 1 Pyro who would be more than happy to indulge you.

[miintsprigz]

Mercs x GN! reader who drew them (ALL NINE!)

This goes out to everyone, not just my artists.

But yes, all my fic material is extremely self-serving.

Big thank you to a dear friend of mine for helping me with mercs like Pyro, Engie, Sniper, and Medic when I got stuck.

VERY LONG POST INCOMING

Scout

• Well, he IS an artist himself, that’s probably how the two of you first started talking.

• Ran past one day, only to immediately throw it in reverse and go “hey whoa whoa whoa when were you gonna tell me you could draw?!”

•Naturally…it was only a matter of time.

•He was always so encouraging about your stuff, so…after working up the guts, you showed him.

• “Yo wait a sec…you drew me??? I…” For once in his life, he’s at a loss for words. He’s never been drawn—not even a self-portrait. For as cocky as he seems…well…

•He just…stares for a second. Marveling. Is that…really what I look like?

• “Do you like it?” “Abso-friggin-lutely, (Y/N)!!! You kiddin’? I don’t even look that beautiful in real life! And ya know, that’s sayin’ somethin!”

•You laugh, and he pulls you in so fast to hug you that you weren’t even ready. “But seriously…thank you. I’ve uh…I’ve never been drawn before. You did amazing. …you know I gotta draw you now, right?”

•And he does. He’s a complete perfectionist about it—he feels like he can’t replicate you, you’re one of a kind. (He actually does very well! But he’s so shy showing it to you…d’aww.)

Pyro

•Pyro was more of a doodler than anything. They loved color. And of course, you could resonate with that.

•Sometimes you’d draw designs and let them color it in. They giggled all the while…they just adored how creative you were.

•Being the most secretive about their appearance, they’re hard to nail down…even for you. Pyro is most themself in their full gear. You, out of everyone, know that best.

•So you took a…different approach. Abstraction.

•Their hands, the ones that so often seemed to be magnetically drawn to you.

•Their back, the strong shoulders when they just felt content to sit in the quiet with you.

•The brief glimpses you’d caught of their face—split second instances in shadows—those were easy, yet challenging. Their brief sightings made them easy to be abstract about, and yet, it made them harder to actually nail down.

•Conjuring a rather fittingly smoky composition, it had a dreamlike feel to it. Pure Pyro.

•You were only a bit hesitant to show them, but when they did see…they surprised you a bit.

•You could see them straighten up a bit…surprised. They craned their neck a bit, looking closer, gently curling their fingers over yours to hold the snapshot-like portraits with you.

• “Hmmm…” There was a sort of…tranquility to them. So unlike your little sparky fella.

• “Do you like them?” Immediately, the edge of their mask bumped against your forehead—your own personal way of kissing. That was all the answer you needed.

•They couldn’t verbalize it, but…seeing beauty in images of themself. The same beauty they saw all around them…it made them see themself in a way they never had before.

•And of course, it made them fall even deeper in love with you, the one who cared for them so much that they took the time to look so deeply.

Heavy

•Heavy is a very intelligent man, but he’s never had much gift for creative work. Even his insults were kind of just the same thing repeated, when the other mercs made it an art form.

•So he couldn’t help but be enraptured by your artistic endeavors and how much work you put into them.

•He loved to see you covered in your medium of choice, your passion for it. Made him lovesick. How lovely you were doing what you loved.

•If he could paint, he would have wanted to paint that. So he could look at it forever.

•So of course, imagine his delight when you decided to draw him!

• That roaring laugh you so enjoyed boomed immediately, just elated.

•“Ohhhh…look at that! You captured me perfectly! Beautiful!” You couldn’t help but beam with pride.

•“Can Heavy keep this?” “Of course you can, hon.” This warranted a sudden barrage of kisses to your face, which cracked you up of course.

•“Very happy to have such talented artist as yourself to love. But to me? You are most beautiful. In all the world.” Despite being more eloquent in his native language, Heavy could still get you to turn red. “Oh gosh…” “Is true!”

Demoman

•Tavish had always been a pretty sentimental fellow. He really did enjoy artwork, but didn’t talk about it much.

•Once he discovered that you were an artist, he was over the moon. Finally, he felt, he could talk to someone about art without them possibly poking fun.

•He’d never go in your sketchbook unless you allowed him to, but he always looked with such admiration in his eyes. “That’s bloody brilliant. So long as ya luv it, never stop doin’ this. Cuz I’ll never stop lookin.”

•One day, you told him you had a surprise for it. “I dunno if I like surprises…” “Oh trust me, Demo,” you chirped, “I think you’ll like this one.”

•As you held up the finished product, his mouth went agape. Almost instantly, he began to smile.

•“Well aren’t you just the sweetest!! That’s me there???” “Yes, love. I uh, I hope that you like it.” His gaze shifted over to you, and you could see his eye had grown somewhat misty.

•Demo was at a loss for words. He had never thought of himself as particularly good-looking, certainly not good enough to be drawn. And yet. You had drawn him. Drawn him very well. And he liked how he looked. Was that how you saw him?

•“Aw, Tav…you okay??” He blinked quick, trying to keep composed.“Never better…c’mere, you…”

•Wrapping his arms around you, he gave you a kiss, just about taking your breath away.

•“My little artist…ya made me look so good.” You caught him rubbing his eye a bit. “I just drew what I saw.” “Well, ya see a work of art in me. And that? That’s the best surprise of all.”

Engineer

•With how much designing went into his machines, Dell could always appreciate the skills of an artist. So when he learned that you were one, well, that only sweetened an already sweet deal.

•You were a little self-conscious at first about him watching you work. You tended to just work parallel to one another, both lost in your own stuff.

•You’d sometimes stop what you were doing to follow his hands as he put the pieces together, fingers wandering as they looked for the correct tool.

•When the inverse happened though—when Engie watched you work—he admired your spontaneity. You could start off with a total wild card and somehow managed to pull it all together and make it work, in a way he never could have come up with.

•Being rather rigid in his own trade, that was something Dell couldn’t help but be dazzled by. Very smart man for sure, but rather by-the-book. Not like you. He saw genius in the way your mind worked.

•So, one day, as the two of you perused each other’s handiwork a bit, you shyly revealed the piece you’d made of him—hard at work on an updated sentry model.

•His lips parted a little like he was about to say something, but nothing came out.

•“I know it’s a little rocky…I’m not the best at drawing machinery.” Gently, he took ahold of the sketchbook and gave it a soft tug, nonverbally asking for permission to hold it. You let him.

•As he looked closer, a warm smile crept across his face. “Well, well…wouldja look at that. That’s me alright.” He chuckled heartily, but you realized it was from admiration, not amusement.

•“Look at you, (Y/N)! Saw me all covered in dirt an’ said ‘yeah, I can make art from that’. I love it…shucks, darlin’, I can hardly get my eyes off of it.”

•He looked back at you, still all aglow, only to find you blushing to the point of near luminescence. “Aw, c’mon now honey…no need to be all shy. You’re incredible, ya know that?”

•An arm slunk around your shoulders, pulling you fast to his side, quickly pecking the top of your head. “I love it, and I love you.”

Soldier

•Soldier was a brave man, that he was confident in. But even he was self-aware enough to realize he wasn’t the sharpest.

•Anything he’d ever drawn looked like kids’ stuff, so to see what you could make? It blew his mind.

•Jane tried not to stare while you drew—you’d gotten all nervous when you’d caught him, and he was trying to be courteous—but he couldn’t deny how it captivated him.

•“Whatcha workin’ on now?” “I’m drawing those two goofs.” You motioned to the Spy and Scout bickering as they often did. “Why them, of all things?” “I just like capturing the moment sometimes.”

•One day, as you sat while he drilled the rest of the team, you started to do just that. You found it hard not to chuckle just a little as the others groaned and rolled their eyes.

•Sure, you got their annoyance, but you couldn’t help but be pulled in by Jane’s excitement and hot-bloodedness.

•“Seemed pretty lost in your work there, or I woulda asked you to join in.” A strong hand ruffling your hair snapped you out of your daze. “Capturing the moment again?”

•“Uh-huh. I think this is my best one yet.” You turned the book around to show him, and you saw his lips part slightly in surprise before he suddenly laughed. “Haha! Look at that! It’s me!”

•You laughed with him, just happy to see him so tickled by it. “I think I really captured you.” “I’d say so, kid! I’d say so…wow.” The amusement gave way to what you realized was…almost awe.

•“I look…strong. Proud.” “Yep.” “…I look good.” “Of course you do.” He nudged his helmet down a bit with his hand, chuckling to himself. From what little bit of his face you saw…was he blushing?

•Imitating him playfully—it was something you two tended to do, he found it cute—you joked, in your best impression of him, “‘Are you going soft on me, maggot??? You’re red as a tomato!’” “Noooo…oh, (Y/N), what am I gonna do with you?”

•He caught the side of your face softly and pecked you on the cheek. “But…really. Thank you, sweetheart. I think that’s my favorite thing you’ve ever made.”

Sniper

•Truthfully, Mick had never given a lot of thought to the arts before he’d met you. What really caught his eye was the amount of time you put into it.

•Sniper knew better than anyone that holding still, completely focused on your task, being all but absorbed in it…that was respectable.

•The fact that he could leave for work and come back to find you in the same spot? It was just very attractive to him.

•You stopped by to watch him sometimes, very discreetly, on less busy days, although he wouldn’t lie, it got him nervous. He trusted in his own skills plenty, but…you weren’t just anyone. He couldn’t have you getting hurt.

•So one day, as he finally wrapped up, he saw you, still hard at work. He didn’t want to interrupt you, but if it was time to go, he wanted to go. Giving you a light pat on the shoulder, he chuckled. “Almost done there, darlin? Quittin’ time.”

•“Just a bit more…there. Perfect. Check it out.” You held up what you’d been working on: a full sketch of him invested in his own work.

•It took him a moment to process what he was seeing, but once he did, he couldn’t help but be amazed. Slightly slack-jawed, he looked up at you, the faintest trace of a smile.

•“Never considered myself the modelin’ type, ‘specially not out here, but…wow. Ya really did it. And I look bloody good, too!” “Well duh!” “Oh, stop—” Oh, that got him. The Aussie was surprisingly easy to fluster once he’d fully grown comfortable, and you loved it.

•“Awww, are you blushing?” “Just a little…now c’mon.” Taking your hand, he helped you up, quickly hugging you around the shoulders, catching you somewhat off-guard.

•“But really. Great job there. Thanks…it’s an honor, ya know that? To be drawn by you?” “Gosh—” “Heh, now you’re the one goin’ all red.” “Oh, stop—”

Medic

•The good(?) doctor first learned of your artistic prowess when he caught you trying to draw the charts he had on his wall. “Ooh! Very impressive.”

•Medic could do a lot of things, but drawing wasn’t really one of them. He couldn’t resist watching you work, even though he knew it was a bit touchy.

•“Poetry in motion, Liebe. Really.” Simp. “Oh, come on—” “I mean it! You have such precision, such grace…it’s a sight to behold!”

•So of course, when you were working on something that you absolutely would not let him look at, he wanted to see even more.

•“I promise that whatever it is, I will find it as beautiful as you!” “It’s not that, silly—it’s supposed to be a surprise!” He seemed almost sulky about it…it was kind of cute, although you did feel a bit bad.

•Eventually though, it was done—him, with Archimedes on his shoulder. “Okay, honey, you can look now.”

•One hand comes up over his mouth, audibly gasping. “Is that…? It is!!! Haha!”

•You had never seen him this happy, and you couldn’t help but smile. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time, (Y/N)! Look at that…and Archimedes too!”

•Perhaps unsurprisingly, he brings the bird out to show him too. It’s hard to gauge the response from a dove, but the tranquil cooing seems to suggest that he enjoys it.

•The doctor catches you off-guard as he sweeps you into a kiss. “Oh…danke, Schatz (treasure). May I keep this?” “Of course~”

•Best believe this man is showing your art off to EVERYONE who he treats, going on and on about what an incredible artist and person you are.

Spy

•This guy is a man of culture, he can appreciate good art. And good artists, wink.

•But in all seriousness, your attention to detail was incredibly attractive to him. After you’d been together for a while, the two of you would sit in his smoking room and relax together once the work day was over.

•Sometimes he’d be off to the side just doing his own thing, reading, but other times he’d actually sit beside you and watch. There was an intimacy to it, one you took time to grow fully comfortable with, but he was patient.

•So when you were very secretive one night, it caught his attention. Nothing slipped past him—not even you. You sensed him behind you surprisingly quickly though, and quickly closed the project up.

•“Shy tonight, are we? So unlike you, mon bijou (my jewel)…” “Hehe…be patient, babe, it’s not done yet.”

•His arms wrapped around you from behind briefly…gosh, it was difficult to keep anything secret from this man. “Very well. Keep your secrets…for now.”

•But he respected that you didn’t want him to see it just yet, and so he waited.

•“…Okay, you can look now.” In an instant, he was behind you again. It was hard to even look up at the guy right now, but once you did…there was this sense of wonder in his face that you hadn’t seen before.

•It wasn’t often that Spy looked at himself unmasked for longer than a few seconds—he’d almost forgotten his own face by now. For spies, he reasoned, it was better that way. But the way you had captured every detail of him…

•“Oh, what a handsome devil…wonder who that could be…” Was he trying to brush off his own flustering? Maybe a little.

•You couldn’t help but giggle as he almost hurriedly sat down next to you, quickly drawing you in close as he continued to look. Almost entranced.

•That element of intimacy I mentioned before? It was his turn to feel it now. Not even in a physical way, which is what this Casanova is so used to.

•No, the fact that you had clearly just…looked at his face, so intently. There was something raw and vulnerable to it. And as much as he wanted to look at it even more, his eyes were magnetically drawn to you.

•“I wouldn’t have ever asked it of you, but…I always wondered what it would look like if you drew me. I…”

•Glancing back down, he found that he couldn’t even come up with anything to say. The act of love had rendered him speechless. YOU BROKE HIM OH MY GOSH/j

•“…Do you like it?” Before you could say anything else, you were swiftly kissed, and I mean kissed.

•Spy always looked at you with a sort of passion, but this was different. He had never felt so much love for someone. Felt like a young, hopeless romantic boy all over again.

•“I adore it…and most of all, I adore you, mon cœur (my heart).”

AAAAND IM DONE. WHEW. That was fun!

[sentrysapper]

[averageludwig]

engiespy for the soul please

this req has been sitting in my inbox for a WHILE and i had no idea what to do with it but i realized this would be a perfect opportunity to draw spy without his stupid fcking mask :3 I hate that guy <3 not my thing BUT silly none the less

[aquatic-armageddons]

How the mercs would try to make up after a fight

SCOUT

Knowing Scout, he'd try to smooth talk his way out of it and call it a day. He doesn't like to admit he's in the wrong, but depending on how serious the fight was, he'd swallow his pride for the sake of the relationship.

He may even ask Spy for help, because he can be pretty awful with words.

But more than likely, the apology would be fumbled and blurted out (like he knows what he wants to say but his head can't catch up with itself).

Feel sympathy for the poor boy, because he feels very frustrated but he still wants you to know he's sorry for what happened.

Make-up cuddles on the couch are a MUST, too.

SOLDIER

You think Scout gets frustrated trying to apologize?

Solly is mentally kicking himself for letting the fight happen in the first place (he might actually kick a few things for real).

We all know Solly shouts a lot, but during the fight, he almost breaks a vessel screaming at you, but he silences himself immediately the moment he sees tears.

He tries desperately to apologize; sputtering 'I'm sorry' and 'Cupcake, please! I didn't mean to!'. But the one thing that'd damage his pride is leaving and making him stew for a couple of hours.

Later on in the day, he will approach you as slow and kindly as he can (a struggle), but he's back to his happy, loud self once you forgive him.

And expect a bone crushing hug or two.

PYRO

This kinda hurt to write.

Poor baby is beside themselves :(

The fight definitely shook you both up, as Pyro hardly ever gets into arguments with anyone. Even though their shouts are muffled, it was still clear enough to understand.

Once it all sinks in, they'd try to hold your hand tightly and mumble apologies like there's no tomorrow.

You forgive Pyro almost instantly, because you know they're a sweetheart and never meant any harm.

If you need some space, Pyro would give it to you, but not for too long. The separation would be too much to handle, and they'll give you the 🥺 face until you cave.

DEMOMAN

It would take him a bit to accept that he's in the wrong.

And I think brushing it off would add more fuel to the fire, but only if he really wanted it to hurt.

Space would be a key factor in this instance. He'd use that time to drink the stress away, but that nagging feeling won't leave him. And he'd definitely wouldn't want to go to sleep with you mad.

"Lass? You awake?" He'd still try to gently shake you awake if you're asleep (anyway).

That's all he'll say before he climbs into bed and spoon you from behind, nuzzling his beard in your neck.

If he tries to bring it up the next morning, just hear him out. And vice versa.

I also think he'll tell a cheesy dad joke to get that smile back on your face!

HEAVY

He'd only snap when under a massive amount of stress.

His frustration is probably misplaced, and once he sees your eyes watering, his shoulders fall in shame.

Honest, gentle words and small, fresh baked snacks is his go-to to bring things back to normalcy. This could also be how he settles his disputes with his mom and sisters.

"Y/N should not be angry with Heavy... let me make up to you."

His tone of voice would instantly make you melt and forgive him on the spot.

Let him spoil you for now and act like it never happened. Tomorrow's a new day!

ENGINEER

Fights with him are something you can never prepare for, as it hardly ever happens.

But when it does, it's all the more intense and awkward.

Dell feels helpless, because it's not like him to raise his voice, let alone shout at people he loves.

Like Heavy, a soft, reassuring voice is his way of de-escalating an argument.

But don't be surprised if he pulls the 🥺 face on you.

If in the midst of you yelling at him, he'll probably kiss you out of nowhere to shut you up.

"You were saying, sweetie?" He'd say with a smirk.

MEDIC

This man is very prideful, and may not consider the possibility of being at fault.

Depending on the severity (like if you threaten to leave him), only one of two things will happen: he'll either call your bluff and regret it later, or just shut down and seclude himself in his lab.

If the latter occurs, he'll feel the need to punish himself for hurting you.

You'll have to coax him out of the lab. Even if you were angry, you still didn't want to see him sulking.

"Liebe, I'm sorry for how I acted...please don't hate me!"

The best thing to do when he says that is to pull him in for a bear hug. "Dummy, don't be like that. You're too handsome to be all sulky and sad on me!"

That puts an instant smile on his face, and you both immediately forget what you were squabbling about.

SNIPER

Him being one of the more patient mercs on the team, it would take a mountain of effort to get him angry.

So he just goes quiet and waits for the right time to come around.

But there's no way of telling when that will happen; it could take just a few minutes or even several hours.

Mentally, Mundy is at war with himself. Does he want to apologize? Does he want to leave you stewing?

He eventually chooses to just be next to you, even when you demanded to be alone. He won't leave until you've calmed down.

Mundy knows his presence can ease your frustration. He'll hold your hand as you sob and vent at him, not saying a word.

It may not show, buy it breaks his heart to see you so upset. Just like a therapist, he's the man who wants to hear what you want to say.

"Honey, I'm sorry about earlier." He whispered. "You don't have to forgive me. Just know that-"

You practically tackle him in a tight hug, crying harder than ever. "I don't care! Just hug me, fool!"

SPY

He can be a real jerk, but he handles arguments more maturely out of everyone.

He apologizes when necessary, taking responsibility for his actions/hurtful words.

But he won't neglect to point out your mistakes as well. He won't take the blame if it's not warranted.

Discussing things like adults (in his opinion) is the best way to settle a personal dispute, and trying to get a reaction out of him would prove useless.

"Sweetheart, let's just take a moment and breathe. I don't want to fight with you, you know that. And I apologize if I hurt you. It was not out of malice, and I didn't mean to come across that way. Let's just stop for a little while and settle your nerves, oui?"

He's got that kind of parental approach you, and it works nearly every time.

---

A/N: IT'S FINALLY DONE!!!!!! I honestly struggled finishing this last minute as I was busy hacking up a lung and puking simultaneously 🤢🤒 But I didn't want to disappoint any of you. Let me know what you think ❤️❤️❤️

[gophergal]

I offer thee Pony Doodles

Scatter Dash is a little shit and used to mutually tormenting his brothers by pulling eachother's feathers + Trickshot isn't actually very used to pegasi allogrooming (and his wings are so small they're hard to reach)

Regal Ribbons is a very big fan of Large Strong Earth Ponies...

~Horses Don't Bend That Way!~ (x2)

Heartflare and Scatter Dash are such besties....

A little RoseDancer to feed the soul <3

Bonus Whiteboard Pine Lavender

[lenny-link]

Epic doodle page with @kahzthesick ‼️‼️

[angelwheat]

TF2 ; Demoman X Reader

Author's Note: Frankly, I projected a lot of myself into this as I've been pretty down bad myself these days... I just thought I'd write some angst with my favourite man for a change. (gif not mine)

Topics: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Pronouns: She/Her | Words: 4085

“Anybody seen that cyclops?”

“Where is that drunk son of a gun?”

“He’s probably passed out somewhere as usual. I’m sure he’s fine.”

She bowed her head and expressed her disapproval, exhibiting a small gesture of exasperation upon hearing her teammates’ jest about the widely held assumption of the Demoman.

Despite the disconcerting remark directed towards the Scotsman, the underlying question persisted in the mind of only one throughout the evening, prompting various conjectures regarding the whereabouts of him. Notwithstanding her diligent efforts to locate him, neither the rooms she meticulously searched, nor the crates of alcohol indicated by another yielded any answer to where he was.

Their team’s third consecutive victory brought about a celebration, characterized by the customary revelry of beer, friendly banter, and perhaps engaging in a drunken game of cards. That night, even the more reserved members of the team emerged from their usual seclusion to mingle amongst the rowdy ones, people like Spy and Sniper, or perhaps even Heavy, who often resided in the contentment of their own company.

With an empty glass in hand, the lady discreetly proceeded towards the kitchen, refraining from interrupting the lively discussion among the men engrossed in their game at the table.

Seeking to replenish her glass with another generous serving of wine, believing it is well-deserved after such a challenging and exhausting battle. As she entered the room, she encountered the Spy reaching for a bottle of wine stashed away in a hidden spot in the cupboard, before engaging in pouring himself a serving of one of his cherished and refined wines.

Hearing the gentle footsteps behind him, the Frenchman turned around, holding the tall wine bottle in one hand. The bottle was half empty already, and his glass had a perfectly measured pour of wine.

“Care for another drink?” He chuckled softly, seemingly slightly intoxicated as he smiled in a manner uncharacteristic of his typically serious demeanour.

“Well, if you’re offering.” She laughed, extending her glass towards him.

As she watched Spy elegantly pour the crimson liquid from the bottle, the girl took a moment to think.

“You never share your wine with anyone, Spy.” She pointed out, observing him as he withdrew the bottle.

Spy raised his eyes and spoke briefly. “We are celebrating, mon ami.”

She took a sip of her beverage, expressing her distaste for the strong berry flavour, as opposed to the rather bland wine she had previously.

“And it would be ungentlemanly of me not to offer.” He remarked, smoothing his suit with his free hand before resting against the counter.

Observing the Spy, she noticed his refined demeanour despite being tipsy. The Frenchman maintained an upright posture, although his distinguished manner showed a hint of decline. He stood casually and took a sip of his drink, savouring the exquisite taste of such a delicacy.

The lady imitated him by leaning against the counter a short distance away, lowering her gaze as she subtly shifted her footing. She gracefully crossed one arm over her body, while the other elegantly supported her wine glass, gently swirling the liquid within as she sighed.

Spy noticed her sudden change in mood and asked genuinely, “Something the matter?”

She gently brought her glass to her lips before lazily responding, “I’m just thinking.”

“About what, may I ask?” He hummed, his speech slightly slurring his accent.

Just as she opened her mouth a sudden boisterous commotion emanated from the game room, leading to the swift assumption that one, possibly Scout, had met defeat in their game of cards. Despite being initially startled, the girl soon found herself laughing quietly as a series of insulted followed in that recognisable Bostonian twang.

She watched the Frenchman simply roll his eyes in response to the boy’s fiery temper, while a hint of amusement played at the corners of his lips.

However, her laughter quickly subsided as a fleeting thought entered her mind, causing her gaze to lower towards the ground while her grin faded.

“Have you seen Demo?” She inquired, glancing at Spy.

The Frenchman looked to her, his brows knitting as he asked, sounding confused, “He’s not with the others?”

Amidst the throng, the girl would undoubtedly recognise the sound of his laughter, and on this occasion, it was curiously absent.

Demoman was generally a vivacious man, quite boisterous, some would say, but unique in all aspects of himself. He would never let go of an opportunity to have a drink and commemorate a triumph with his teammates. He possessed the ability to make every celebration unforgettable, yet he was missing this one.

“I haven’t seen him all night,” She responded, her face reflecting a concerned expression. “It’s not like him to miss a party.”

The Spy responded with a small nod, for she was correct as he recalled every occasion the Scotsman had been present.

Fully engrossed in solving the whereabouts of her teammate, she found herself neglecting her drink, her concern becoming overwhelming.

“The others don’t seem to care.” She mumbled once another roar of laughter erupted.

Spy maintained his silence, yet his attentive gaze conveyed a thorough analysis of her. It was evident from her somewhat closed-off demeanour, particularly her lack of eye contact, that a significant level of anxiety ran through her.

“I’m sorry, Spy.” She turned swiftly, placing her glass firmly to the counter. “I’m gonna go find him.”

With a humble nod, the Spy watched her as she left the room. He then calmly plucked a cigarette from his trusty case and continued his way, preferring to spend the remainder of the evening alone.

--

With a sense of urgency, the girl swiftly made her way through the corridors of the base, eventually arriving at the living quarters. She composed herself before reaching Demoman’s room, where a steel medallion depicting his class symbol adorned the centre of the door.

She paused for a moment, standing in silence. Leaning in gently, she hoped to hear any signs of movement from the other side of the door. When she heard nothing, she raised her hand and knocked nervously.

Taking a moment to quell the anxiety that was building within her, once again she listened for any subtle sounds coming from inside the room, visibly perking up when she heard faint shuffling.

“Lad I told ya to get lost.” Demoman grumbled, albeit muffled from the opposite side of the door.

A noticeable creaking sound filled the silent hallway as the door opened gradually, revealing a very sleepy looking Scotsman. As the bright light struck his eye, he squinted, adjusting to the contrast as his own room was shrouded with darkness.

With a sudden surge of alertness, Demoman’s grogginess vanished as he opened the door wider once he realised who stood before him. The Scotsman offered a prompt apology, to which she merely responded with a warm smile.

“I’m sorry if I woke you.” She said with an embarrassed chuckle.

“No, you didn’t. I-“ He cut himself off awkwardly. “You need something, lass?”

It was evident that he lacked his usual expression. Typically, his tone is cheerful, and he often smiled while he speaks. However, he appeared devoid of any emotion.

“I just wondered where you were.” She admitted. “You haven’t been around all evening.”

Observing the direction of his gaze as it lowered to the floor, the lady examined his slightly unkempt appearance. Short strands of hair emerged from beneath his beanie hat. The sleeves of his high-neck sweater were rolled up to his elbows, differing from his usual preference for long sleeves. However, what truly captured her attention was his eye, which appeared slightly bloodshot.

“Just busy.” He reassured simply, his voice quieter than usual, but the smile he gave was clearly not genuine.

She immediately noticed the way he nervously swallowed, and she could sense that something was amiss.

“We’re all celebrating.” She told, eyeing him attentively. “Do you want to join us?”

The way Demoman was not fully visible in the doorway already suggested what his response would be. His apparent detachment from reality was evident in the way he seemed to stare blankly at her.

“Maybe later.” He replied almost in a whisper, glancing over his shoulder at something she couldn’t see.

Demoman’s hand rested on the edge of the door as he stood slightly hunched beside it, as if he was seeking support from it. She perceived that he was keen to seclude himself once again.

“Do you want some company?” She fidgeted with her thumbs nervously, eyebrows arching in a polite inquiry.

The Scotsman paused for a moment before nodding slowly, almost sorrowfully.

He stepped aside to allow her entry into his personal quarters. She had only visited his space on a few occasions but was familiar with the assortment of components and papers related to his craft that were scattered around the room in boxes.

Behind her, the door closed with a soft click, and Demoman walked past her towards his workbench, where only a bright lamp illuminated the room.

“Make yourself comfortable, lass.” He lazily gestured to the rest of the room.

Swiftly glancing around the room for a moment, the girl politely sat on the edge of his bed just a few steps away from where Demoman had slumped himself at his desk. She crossed her leg over the other, sitting quietly as she observed his hands reaching for small materials and tools, guessing that he was constructing something new.

Her head tilted with curiosity as he worked with delicacy and caution, something almost no one got to witness. Watching him work had her unable to restrain from asking a question.

“What’re you working on?” She spoke softly as to not startle him.

“Just making a few changes to some of these.” He replied, sounding rather unenthusiastic as he reached for one of his well-known inventions placed nearby.

Held delicately between his fingers was one of his most remarkable inventions, an explosive invention indeed. Despite being aware that it was merely and empty shell of one of his prototypes, she politely nodded in acknowledgment, although it appeared that her subtle gesture went unnoticed, as the Scotsman scarcely directed his gaze towards her.

Subconsciously, she tapped her thighs, chewing her cheek as she surveyed the room with genuine curiosity. Her gaze settled on the photographs neatly displayed on his bedside cabinet, alongside what she presumed to be familial heirlooms and cherished keepsakes.

She had to refrain from cooing as she gazed upon a photograph of what seemed to be a young Demoman standing proudly with his parents.

The unexpected burst of laughter from the floor below startled them both, causing Demo to shake his head and huff in disapproval as he regained his composure.

“The others are wondering where you are.” She told, her tone gentle.

She swore she heard a faint sniffle from him before her responded.

“It doesn’t sound like it.” He retorted harshly.

Pressing her lips into a line, the girl pondered.

It’s blatantly obvious that Demoman is not his usual cheerful self. His tone has a strong tint of bitterness, which is extremely uncharacteristic of him. He’s suddenly so short-tempered and blunt, a harsh contrast to his typical easy-going and lively self. He’s certainly never been known to be a grumbler or someone who resorts to such snappiness unless he’s in the heat of a tough battle.

While observing the Scotsman with rapt attention, she noticed a sudden change in the way his hands began to tremble and shake vigorously, almost struggling to maintain control of his tools.

Her eyes landed upon an opened bottle of drink, the label of which she couldn’t read under the dim light, but it was seemingly abandoned rather promptly as its contents remained virtually untouched.

“Is everything okay, Demo?” She asked cautiously.

The Scotsman let his tools slip from his hands, hearing them clatter as they bounced onto the counter. He sank back into the chair, resting his head on the back.

“Aye, call me Tavish, please.” He drowned out, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

She was aware of the Scotsman’s preference to be addressed by his first name, but she had developed a habit of primarily using his class name over the years, and so she politely apologised.

She furrowed her brows in a deep frown as she watched intently, seemingly lost in his own little bubble of emotions.

Tavish remained with his gaze averted from hers, directing his attention towards the ceiling as his hand slowly fell to his lap.

With a huff, the girl promptly rose from where she perched on his bed and walked towards him.

His gaze fixated on her as she stood before him, her hand gently pressing against the tabletop as she leaned against it.

“What’s going on with you?” She began, drawing in a breath. “You’re so snappy all of a sudden.”

Tavish simply blinked, his face reflecting a hint of sadness as his eyebrows lowered and the corners of his mouth turned down. He reached out with one hand and began to idly play with one of his tools, avoiding her direct gaze. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down noticeably as if he was struggling to hold back his words.

“Do ye hear the things they say about me?” Tavish blurted out; his words laced with upset.

The lady maintained a neutral expression, fully comprehending the implications of his words. She folded her arms across her chest, her shoulders drooping as she let out a sorrowful sigh,

“I do hear what they say.” She replied truthfully, watching him cautiously.

Very soon, she came to regret her words, for Tavish’s face visibly contoured with hurt.

His hand brushed across his face, as if attempting to erase the traces of his melancholy expression. “There’s only so many times you can take hearing the word ‘cyclops’ in a day.”

She sighed, her tone becoming more cheerful in the hopes of seeing him smile even a little. “But if it makes you feel any better, I don’t see you that way.”

However, it seemed that Tavish was far too engrossed in the depths of his own despair, as her words appeared to have no effect on him.

“Thanks, lass.” Tavish breathed a heavy sigh. “But it doesn’t change what the rest of ‘em think o’ me.”

The girl moved closer to him, noticing the gentle touch of his palm against his forehead as he winced slightly when the light caught his eye. She assumed that he had given himself a headache after spiralling into such a deep bout of self-depreciation, and on this occasion, it was not due to being drunk.

“You alright?” She asked gently, her eyebrows arching in concern.

Tavish nodded as he grumbled. “I’m just fine.”

Looking away briefly, the lady casually surveyed the room, merely glancing over the numerous belongings he had on display.

Every corner of his room held something that reflected the man Tavish was. His collection of components, chemicals, and materials for his craft, as well as his diverse array of family keepsakes, might raise questions for some, but he didn’t mind as they were all things he was deeply devoted to.

Her gaze settled upon a familiar memento of him – his trusty knight’s sword. It was respectfully placed against a cabinet that housed a meticulously organized collection of whisky. Beneath the sword hung a half-sized tapestry depicting what appeared to be a Celtic family crest, a distinct symbol of his cultural heritage and pride in his homeland. She couldn’t resist admiring it, taking in the intricate details with appreciation.

As her gaze continued to drift, she failed to notice the manner in which Tavish discreetly observed her from his seat. Throughout the duration of her silent presence beside him, Demoman experienced a sense of tranquillity, as her amicable demeanour alleviated some of the stressors that burdened his thoughts.

However, Tavish couldn’t help but wonder if she were admiring, or silently scrutinising as she remained avidly engrossed in her surroundings.

“Excuse the mess.” He piped up faintly, sounding embarrassed.

“Oh, don’t worry there’s no mess.” The girl hummed as she turned her attention back to him. “Trust me, your room’s immaculate compared to Scouts.”

A bashful smile graced her face as she cast a glance at the Scotsman, who, in turn, appeared perplexed as he observed her, his brows furrowed, and his head tilted in curiosity. Intent on lifting his spirits, she continued to speak.

“Well, I was just thinking actually.” She stated, making a gentle gesture towards her surroundings. “Your room says a lot about you.”

Tavish’s continued perplexed expression conveyed his unspoken words.

“It’s obvious that family is your biggest value.” She told with genuine sincerity.

The Scotsman’s eye scanned his room, admiring his decorations as if they were brand new. However, his gaze inevitably settled upon the photograph by his bedside, his most treasured possession, and he couldn’t help the sad sigh that fell from his lips.

“Aye, it is.” He answered, nodding softly. “But it feels like I only put shame on me family name.”

She noticed his hunched posture.

“Even for having not lost both me eyes yet.” Tavish grumbled.

Certainly, Tavish encountered a look of confusion from the lady. He made a casual gesture with his hand, silently conveying to her that she should disregard his words.

“I’ve a lot of expectations to live up to.” Tavish admitted, glancing back at the unfinished prototype on his desktop.

She nodded slowly, lowering her head.

Silence descended upon the room, broken only by the faint sounds of a ruckus emanating from downstairs. It seemed that Tavish’s decision to seclude himself in his room was frustrating him, as evidenced by his huffing.

“So, that’s why you’re cooped up tonight.” She deduced. “You’re trying to improve these.”

The girl gave a quick nod to the small construction in front of him.

“Aye.” He responded shortly, his hands continuing to fiddle with the delicate materials.

Her lips pursed for a moment as she considered her words.

“But, as a team, we don’t have any expectations of you.” She reassured him, hoping to lift his spirits. “And these don’t need improving in my opinion.”

Tavish reached up to remove his hat, running his hand though his unkempt hair, some of which fell over his face, partially covering his eyepatch.

“But that’s just it, lass.” He stated, raising his hands to make a gesture. “So long as these go kaboom they work just fine in your eyes.”

For a fleeting moment, a gentle smile graced the Scotsman’s face as he emitted a soft chuckle while playfully imitating an explosion with his hands. The light-hearted gesture, in turn, elicited a corresponding smile upon the girl’s face. However, his smile swiftly dissipated as a contemplative thought crossed his mind.

“But I see the faults all the time.” He added, letting his hands fall into his lap.

At that moment, the girl could only stare at him, her face contoured with hurt upon hearing him persistently berate himself and diminish his own value to the team. Seeing the true fragility of his self-esteem surprised her, as his vulnerability was rarely full displayed, especially when he was completely sober. One would truly need to share a strong bond with the Scotsman.

“I can’t stand being known as nothin’ but a ‘drunk cyclops’ ‘round here.” Tavish admitted, his tone tinged with a profound sense of dejection as his words effortlessly escaped his lips without restraint.

His words interrupted her line of thought, causing her to shake her head disapprovingly. The lady straightened up from where she had been leaning against his workbench and stood directly in front of him. However, he avoided making eye contact with her, preferring to sit and be consumed by his own sadness.

“Tavish, get up.” She instructed, her voice gentle yet firm.

The Scotsman turned to her, momentarily puzzled, but complied when she made an impatient gesture with her hands.

Wearily, he ran a hand through his hair and rose from his seat, standing slightly hunched before her, as if the weight of stress could topple him at any moment. Before Tavish could ask a question, the girl moved towards him and gently enveloped him in a hug.

Taken aback by her sudden action, Tavish was startled by the unexpected contact, his eyes widening in surprise. However, he quickly regained his composure and instinctively wrapped his arms around her. As soon as he felt himself settle in the comforting embrace, Tavish relaxed completely, practically melting in her arms.

The girl sensed the way in which Tavish gently pulled her closer, almost pressing against him, feeling his curly hair brush against her neck as he rested his head tiredly on her shoulder.

“I just wish you’d value yourself the same way as all this around you…” She said with sincerity.

Her gaze fell upon his family photo once more as she looked over his shoulder, gently caressing his back.

“I’m sure your mum is proud of you, Tavish.” She spoke, her gaze still fixated on the photograph.

Tavish shifted his position and gently pulled away, maintaining a loose hold around her waist, still yearning for her closeness.

The girl noticed the prominent frown on his face.

“Aye, but there’s always better for her.” He told bluntly.

She patted his shoulder reassuringly and smiled warmly. “I think that’s just what parents are like. They always want to see their kids succeed, right?.”

Surprisingly, Tavish’s smile turned up slightly, greatly contrasting the dismal expression he withheld.

“I’ve come to realise that you can’t work yourself into the ground to please others.” She admitted, subconsciously placing her hand on her chest.

Nevertheless, Tavish appeared visibly touched by her words, as he seemed to have become more animated and relieved of his weighty stress, even if only slightly. The girl couldn’t resist smiling with him.

“Thanks, lass.” Tavish breathed, running his hand through his hair once more. “I think I owe you one.”

She shook her head and replied, “You don’t own me anything. You’re my friend, and I’d be here for you anytime.”

Taking a step back, she let out a contended sigh and placed her hands on her hips, but she couldn’t help but notice how Tavish remained close by.

Perhaps it was simply because he had only one eye, or maybe it was genuine, but Tavish appeared to be observing her attentively with his head tilted down, gazing at her through his brows: much like a puppy yearning for attention. His hands were placed in his pockets as he began to chew his cheek sheepishly, shifting his weight on his heels a few times.

“Don’t give me that look.” She told, her tone playfully stern as she smiled broadly.

She heard the soft chuckle that escaped his lips, and a bashful smile quickly spread across his face.

With a playful roll of her eyes and a gentle click of her tongue, the lady extended her hand to draw him into another embrace. Tavish responded promptly, drawing her near and offering a friendly squeeze around her shoulders.

Just before she withdrew, she gently patted his back once again. At that moment, her gaze happened to fall upon the clock on the wall, and an idea suddenly came to her mind.

“Tavish, the night’s still young. I’d say there’s still plenty of time to celebrate today’s win.” She suggested. “Shall we put this behind us for tonight and share a drink?”

The girl raised her hand up before her, anticipating him to accept her friendly proposal. Without hesitation, Tavish grasped her hand, unable to suppress the smile on his face as they shook hand in agreement.

“Sure. Why not?” He agreed.

Without delay, the girl practically skipped towards the door, gesturing for Tavish to join her with a wave of her hand.

“Come on then.” She spoke over her shoulder “I think the boys have got some drink left.”

As she pulled the door open, she paused in the doorway and turned to the Scotsman who stood a step behind, her hand gracefully raising to cover her mouth from the side.

“But I know where Spy keeps his fancy wine if we really can’t find any.” She snickered mischievously.

Tavish’s face mirrored the same expression of mischief that of the woman before him, and they both shared a light-hearted laugh as they made their way down the corridor, eager to enjoy the rest of the evening together.

[boredgrace23]

Decided to do this after seeing this template floating around for some time. I'm pretty proud of how the colours came out.

Template and closeups below:

[mightbemod]

decided to finalkly do the tf2 meet the artist template!!! :3

blank vers under read more ⬇️

Original post of the translation on twt here

[the-teufort-nine]

The BLU Chemist Reader returns for their final fic! 11k words and about a week of work and beta reading by @pinkypiechar have led to this! I hope it lives up to expectations!

If you like the idea of a Chemist Reader, please consider checking out my longer, RED Chemist Fem!Reader fic, whenever I actually get around to writing it.

Mercs x GN!Reader | Respawn Malfunction PART 3: Chem and RED's Excellent Adventure

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Hurt/Comfort, Discussion of Poly Relationship, Crossfaction Flirting | NSFW, because while technically no sex happens, its definitely discussed/implied| Cw: starvation, mentions of graphic death/description of a corpse, mentions of pet death (non graphic), possesive behaviours ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Featuring:

Everyone! Even Miss Pauling is here, as well as a particularly charming duo from the enemy team.

Scenario: Having been stranded at the new base with no hope of making it back to their team alone, the BLU Chemist must ask their mortal enemy for help. Thankfully, even a RED Engineer has some good ole' southern hospitality, and the Texan offers to get the BLU back to their team. (Un)fortunately, someone else has joined in on their little quest...

The RED team's Engineer had seen many things during his time working for Mann Co., but the sight before him now may have been the strangest yet.

The BLU Chemist, whom everyone knew had died during that horrible Respawn failure, was standing on the other end of his trusty shotgun.

Well, standing might have been too generous a word. The Merc was swaying like a sapling in a storm, trembling from the effort of staying upright. Their usually vibrant eyes were dull behind their safety goggles, which didn't hug their face like usual. Everything they wore looked baggy and ill-fitting, barely hanging onto their gaunt, thin form. They looked dead, as though their soul had been dragged back from the afterlife and shoved into their corpse.

“How the hell…” he lowered his gun, blue eyes narrowing in disbelief, “Ain't you supposed to be dead?” 

“I was.” They shrugged weakly, stumbling slightly, “Now I'm not. I actually just died again a few hours ago, and I'm pretty sure my team might think I'm actually dead. Again.”

“Jesus Mary and Joseph.” The Engineer cursed, before opening the door wider. “Well, I reckon since it's a ceasefire, ah ain't bein’ paid t’ kill ‘ya, so y’ may as well come in. Just try ‘n keep the noise down, otherwise you're gonna have 9 curious bastards pokin’ atcha.”

“I'll be as quiet as a church mouse.” The BLU replied, wincing as they stepped into the illuminated interior. “Jesus, that's bright.”

“It really ain't.” The Southerner arched a concerned brow, “You’re just sick as a dog.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Came the Chemist’s grumbled response.

“Where’d you come from? Ain’t much ‘round here that could get ‘ya killed, aside from us.” He asked, extending a hand to steady his unexpected guest as they tilted towards the wall.

“Uhhhh,” The Chemist scrubbed at their eyes, letting their hand drag down their face. Their E/C eyes stared blankly at the wall as they tried to call forth an answer. “Colorado. Yeah, we were in Colorado. We had to stop at this little town called Limon ‘cause there was a tornado.”

“A tornado?”

“Yeah. It knocked down a utility pole. That’s how I died again, actually! Biggggg ole electric shock.”

Engineer let out a low whistle. “Nasty way to go. You are one unlucky sumbitch, huh?”

The Chemist inclined their head. “Or, I’m a lucky ‘sumbitch’, depending on how you look at it. I’ve cheated Death twice now, after all.”

Engineer snorted at their attempt to mimic his accent. It reminded him of his own team’s Chemist, who was tucked away upstairs, sleeping peacefully. She often copied his countryisms, and he would sometimes catch her unconsciously copying the accent or speech mannerisms of whomever she was speaking to.

“Maybe.” he acquiesced, “Yer a right tough bastard, ah’ll give ‘ya that. No wonder yer such a pain in the ass when we’re scrappin’.”

The other Merc grinned a bit. “Being a pain in the ass is my specialty.”

Before he knew it, Engineer found himself standing in the Intel room, where the base’s phone was located. Thankfully, their Intel was still packed away in a secure safe, but even if it wasn’t, the man was fairly sure that this BLU wouldn’t try and snag it.

“Here ‘ya are! Hope ‘ya get through to someone.” He said, offering the phone to the exhausted Chemist.

“‘Preciate it.” They said, taking the phone and punching in a few numbers. They leaned against the wall, head resting on the wood as they listened to the phone ring. After a minute, they frowned, letting out a soft curse.

“Pauling’s not picking up. The storm must have knocked out her signal.” They sighed, “Great. Guess I'm waiting back at our base for them to show up. Whenever that is.”

“Are you gonna be able to hang on that long?” The Texan questioned, “No offense, partner, but you look like yer gonna drop.”

The Chemist sighed again, in a long, drawn out way, the way someone did when bone deep exhaustion finally caught up to them. The way animals do when they've given all they can, and now simply must lie down and wait for the inevitable.

“It's not like I have much of a choice. I mean, what else am I supposed to do?” They asked.

“Well,” The RED Merc scratched at his chin, contemplating if what he was about to do was a good idea, “Ah don't know if you know this, but we're in good ‘ole Texas, and Colorado really ain't too far from where we're stationed. If ‘ya want, ah could drive ‘ya on over there.”

The BLU raised their head off the wall, eyes widening in surprise.

“You- you'd do that? For me? Why?” 

Engineer shrugged. “Ah feel bad fer ‘ya. ‘Sides, if you die, then they're gonna replace you with someone new, and ah rather prefer the enemy ah know to the enemy ah don't.”

The two mercenaries stared at one another for a long moment, the only sound being the cricket song coming from outside. Finally, the Chemist let out a dry, wheezing laugh, their teeth bared in a vicious grin.

“Good God I must be insane, trusting a RED.” They chuckled, “You know what? Sure, I'll take you up on that offer, cowboy.”

They reached forward and playfully tugged down the brim of Engineer's hat, causing him to lightly bat their hand away.

“Cream gravy! Alright, let's mosey on out then. Ah wanna be back before mah team starts wonderin’ where ah went.” He said, starting off in the direction of his truck, which was parked faithfully outside.

The Chemist plodded along behind him, and there were a few times where he had to glance back to make sure that they hadn't fallen behind too much. When they finally did make it to the truck, Engineer let them climb into the passenger seat while he nipped over to the trunk. Flipping it open, he pulled out an old, well loved blanket. It was black and white and gray striped, something he'd gotten for his childhood dog, Bucket. Bucket had been a fat, lazy beagle who did nothing but lounge around and bark at guests, but the man had loved him more than anything.

Bucket had passed away some time ago, but he'd never stopped taking the blanket along with him. Now, it would finally get to see some use again.

“Here,” he passed the blanket to the shivering Merc, “It ain't much, but it should help keep ‘ya from freezin’ over ‘till the heat kicks on.”

“T- Thanks.” The Chemist replied, gingerly taking the offered fabric. They thumbed the worn fabric, setting it across their lap.

“No problem.” Engineer replied, shutting the door to his side. 

For a moment, it almost sounded like one of the back doors had shut as well, and he looked back over his shoulder, eyes squinting in the low light. His gaze lingered for a moment, but when nothing revealed itself, he slowly turned back around and started up the truck.

“Ah’ve got a map in ‘m glove box. Pull it out and let's find that little town of yers.”

The Chemist nodded, and Engineer put the truck into drive.

It was going to be a long drive.

A couple of hours into their trek, the RED Engineer noticed that his passenger was starting to droop more than usual. Worse than that, he could hear their stomach growling like an ornery gator every few minutes.

Wordlessly, he eyed up the nearby fast food places before pulling off the road they'd been driving on. The Chemist didn't even seem to notice, too preoccupied with just staying somewhat awake.

“You up for a snack, Darl’?” He asked, gently nudging the BLU.

“Mnhm.” They mumbled back, “C’n I have m’ cheeseburger yet?”

“Sure, we can do a McDonald's run.” Engineer replied, turning into the nearest drive through.

He quickly placed an order for both his guest and himself, paying and grabbing the food before finding a spot to park.

“Here ‘ya go. One genuine American cheeseburger.” The Texan said, handing the Chemist their food.

The Chemist stared at the offered meal, gently cradling the wrapped burger in their hands, as though it were some sort of priceless treasure.

“Engie, I could genuinely suck your dick right now.” They said softly, before sinking their teeth into the cheeseburger, not even bothering to take off the wrapper.

The RED Merc’s face turned the same shade as his uniform, and he pulled down his hat to hide his rosey cheeks.

“Don't- y’ cant just-” he stumbled, trying to make words come out of his mouth properly, “Jesus, don't eat the wrapper!”

“Sorieh, ah can't heawr you.” The Chemist replied through a mouthful of cheeseburger and cheeseburger wrapper, “Ahm too buwsy eaghting.”

“At least slow down.” He muttered, tucking into his own food.

And yes, he did take the wrapper off, thank you very much.

“Yes, please do. I have no desire to see you hork down that disgusting slop like a wild beast.”

Both BLU and RED mercenaries choked as a third voice piped up from the back, scaring them out of their wits. 

“SPY!” Engineer whirled around as the Chemist hacked up their mouthful of food, the BLU thankfully having the wherewithal to stick their head out of the window, “What the hell do you think you're doing here?! How did you even get in mah truck?!”

“I followed you and slipped into the back when you were rooting around for that rag.” Spy replied, indicating to the blanket, which had halfway slipped down onto the floor. “What are you doing here, labourer? Having some sort of illicit affair with zhe enemy?”

“If- If you actually thought that,” the Chemist coughed, pounding on their chest, “then you hiding out in the back is super creepy, dude.”

“Yeah, well bein’ a creep is about all this one knows.” Engineer grit out, nostrils flaring like an enraged bull, “But usually, he knows better than to try that with me.”

“I was simply curious as to why you were sneaking off with someone who is supposed to be dead.” The masked man said, producing a cigarette from one of his pockets, “Zhe Administrator is not going to be pleased when she finds out you have been acting rather… friendly with each other.”

“Yeah, well, what is she gonna do, kill me?” The Chemist snarked. “If she wanted me dead, she wouldn't have let Pauling go ‘n get me. I must be worth more to her alive than dead.”

“She ain't got no eyes here anyway.” Engineer added, “Trust me. Ah personally go over every inch of mah equipment and vehicles at least once a week, t’ check for any bugs or cameras. Mah Betsy is as clean as a whistle.”

Engineer moved like a striking cobra, his prosthetic hand closing around Spy's suit jacket. The Frenchman dropped his cigarette as he was jerked forward, a flicker of fear coming over his face.

“And you, spook, ain't gonna breathe a damn word to Her ‘bout anything that happens on this trip, ‘cause if you do,” he tightened his grip, the metal components straining slightly under the pressure, “ah’ll know, and you won't like what happens next.”

Spy rolled his eyes, but both the Chemist and the Engineer could see that the man was sufficiently intimidated.

“Very well, I shall be silent about your little ‘road trip.’” he sneered, “And zhe Chemist's generous offer.”

“Great.” Engineer said cheerily through gritted teeth, “Ah can tell this is gonna be real fun.”

“Yippee.” The Chemist added dully, before taking another bite of their burger.

“Wh- TAKE OFF THE DAMN WRAPPER!”

Travelling with the RED Engineer had been surprisingly nice. It was almost like being back with your own Engineer, what with the southern man being so kind and polite to you, despite you both being on opposing sides.

Travelling with the RED Spy was not nearly as pleasant.

Him and the Engineer bickered almost constantly, and when they weren't bickering, Spy started semi-flirting, semi-picking on you, which usually led to yet another round of bickering.

Truly, it was almost like being stuck in a car with two overgrown toddlers.

“Is he always this insufferable?” You hissed to Engineer after Spy started listing off all the ways your outfit was offending the very concept of clothing.

“No.” Engineer sighed, looking very much like he'd like to drive all three of you into a ditch, “He's purposefully bein’ more of an ass than usual ‘cause you're here. Usually, he's a lot more quiet.”

“I'd like to see that.” You groused, before refocusing on the map in your lap. Your previous consumed cheeseburger and fries felt uncomfortably heavy in your weakened stomach, but they did help to restore some of your lost energy.

“Okay, it looks like we need to take a left in about 6 miles. We'll be turning onto Canyon Rd.” You read aloud, “We'll be on that one for a while.”

“It's real nice to have someone along who can actually read a map.” Engineer chuckled, “Usually, it's either Scout, Solly, or Pyro who rides with me into town every time we need t’ get supplies, and none ‘a them are any help when it comes to navigatin.’”

“Heh, yeah, mine aren't real great at that either.” You smiled, thinking of all the times you'd heard the three of them bickering on missions.

“Are zhose three good for anything besides destroying zhings?” Spy asked, lounging in the back like a smug cat.

“Sure.” You replied, not looking up from the map, “My Scout's actually really good at impersonating other people, Soldier is a baking whiz when it comes to bread, and Pyro can sniff out backstabbing French bastards like nobody else.”

Spy definitely didn't start pouting as Engineer started cackling like a madman, his shoulders shaking with mirth. You grinned at the sound, your own quiet chuckles joining in.

“Hooo-wee! They gotcha there, slim!” he laughed, wiping at his eye.

Spy glared. “I'm glad you find zhe idea of me dying so amusing, toymaker.” 

“Oh, lighten up, would you.” You glanced back over your shoulder to look at the masked man, “Are you seriously going to tell me you guys don't joke about killing us?”

“I don't joke about killing,” Spy sniffed, “I just kill.”

Engineer snorted as you rolled your eyes, turning back to your map. “Uh huh. Sure. Whatever you say, frog legs. Turn left up here, Engie.”

“No insulting names for zhe cowpoke?” Spy arched his brow.

“Considering he's been nothing but nice to me? No. Maybe if you turn your attitude around, I'll think of something nicer to call you, too.”

“I have no desire to be as, ah, close as you two seem to be.”

You gripped the seat as you whipped around again, eyes widened in anger-tinged disbelief. “Holy shit are you still fixated on that? What, do you want me to offer to suck you off too?!”

Spy recoiled back a bit, stiffening up as the exposed skin of his upper cheeks turned a shade of pink usually reserved for flowers. However,

He didn’t say no.

“Oh, my God.” You said, raising your brows as a smirk pulled the corner of your mouth upwards, “Oh, my God.”

“Merde, no, zhat’s not what I-”

“Well,” You relaxed your grip on the seat and folded your arms, tilting your head slightly as you watched Spy squirm, looking every bit like the cat that got the cream, “you’d have to be very nice to me to get that sort of offer.”

“Je vais t'éviscérer comme un poisson si tu continues à parler!”

“Now, see, I don’t know what you just said, but it didn’t sound very nice.” You turned back around, barely holding in your laughter, “No blowjob offer for you. I guess you won’t have to share, Engie.”

“Well don’t that beat all?” Engineer replied playfully, “You sure yer team won’t mind, though?”

“The way I see it,” You said, readjusting the blanket the man had given you, “you have gone out of your way to bring me back to them, and you let me actually eat the cheeseburger you bought me. They can suck it up.”

“Sounds like you’ll be the one suckin’.” The Texan murmured under his breath, too quiet for you to hear.

“What was that?”

“Nothin!” Engineer replied, “Just talkin’ t’ m’self.”

“Is that a thing all engineers do?” You asked, “My Engie does that too, usually when he’s working on something.”

“Maybe. Mah Pa used to do it fer sure.” The RED Merc shrugged, “Wait, does yer Engineer let y’all into his workshop?”

“Well, he let’s me and Pyro in.” You said, recalling all the times you and the firebug had hung out in the space, “Sometimes Medic is allowed in, but everyone else gets the boot, unless he calls them in to help him with something.”

“Interesting.” Spy said, apparently having recovered from his embarrassment enough to speak, “Zhis one has barred us all from entering his sacred domain. Not even our Chemist get’s zhat privilege. You must mean quite a bit to him.”

“If y’all didn’t go ‘round putin’ yer grubby mitts all over everything, maybe I would let y’ in.” Engineer smacked the steering wheel, frustration in his tone, “Honestly, it’s like herdin’ cats when I let y’all anywhere near mah stuff! ‘Sides, don’tcha remember what happened the last time I let someone play around with mah equipment, Spy?”

“Oui.” Spy shuddered, “I don’t zhink we will ever fully get zhe smell of bread yeast out of zhat base.”

“I’m sorry- bread yeast?” You shot the two RED members a confused look, “What does bread have to do with you not letting anyone near your stuff?”

“It’s a long story, but I suppose we got the time.” Engineer cleared his throat, “It all started one afternoon. We’d just got done killin’ yer team and makin’ off with yer Intelligence…”

Engineer and Spy’s wild tale of love, RED victory, and bread monsters kept you entertained for the next few hours or so, the three of you eventually getting sidetracked by various other topics. By the time the sun started to rise over the Colorado horizon, the conversation had switched to being about everyone’s favourite foods.

“Look, there ain’t nothin’ better fer breakfast than a nice cup’ a coffee, bacon ‘n eggs with a side of buttered toast, biscuits, and sausage gravy ‘n grits.” Engineer said, voice full of confidence.

“I think I would actually explode if I ate all of that.” You stuck out your tongue, feeling ill at just the thought of eating so much food. If this man ate like that every morning, then it was no wonder that he sported such a plump figure in comparison to most of his other teammates.

Not that you were complaining.

“I agree, mon petit saphir.” Spy said, curling his lip. “Zhat is a disgusting amount of food for zhe very first meal of zhe day.”

“Ooh, whatever that name was, it sounded a lot nicer.” You said teasingly. “See? I knew you could do it!”

“Well would ‘ya look at that? You actually got him to simmer down.” Engineer grinned, ducking when Spy swiped irritably at his head, “Maybe you should come join up with RED. We could probably stash you away somewhere, hand y’ over to Spy when we need him to settle.”

You laughed, imagining yourself with a little service animal harness. “Tell you what, If my team decides to murder me for dying again right in front of ‘em, I’ll switch sides.” 

“Heh, partner, you’ve got yerself a deal.” Engineer stuck out his hand, and you gripped it, giving it the best shake your weak arms could manage. 

“It seems as zhough you’ll be making your decision sooner rather zhan later.” Spy leaned forward and pointed at an upcoming road sign, which read “Limon Welcomes You!”

“Oh SHIT we’re here!” You sat forward quickly, before wincing and holding your head, “Oh, woof, headrush. That was a bad idea.”

“Good Lord, this place has seen better days.” Engineer said, gazing at the many fallen tree branches and damaged buildings, “Where did you say y’all were stayin’ again?”

“We sheltered in an old garage near the outskirts of town.” You replied, wincing at the amount of damage you saw, “I hope they haven’t gone too far, but I wouldn’t blame them for wanting to get away as soon as possible.”

“I doubt zhey wanted to linger around your charred corpse.” You nodded grimly at Spy’s comment, not particularly looking forward to seeing it yourself, but needing to check if your team was still around.

Soon enough, the three of you pulled up to the abandoned mechanic shop. The building looked even worse than when you had last seen it, and the lack of nearby vehicles did not make you feel particularly hopeful that you would find your team here. Still, your temporary RED companion pulled over and hopped out of his truck, putting a steadying hand on your shoulder when he saw you struggling to maintain your balance. Spending so many hours sitting down did not help your already weak legs to support your weight. Stepping inside the building proper, you were careful to avoid the downed utility pole and various cables. Only a few feet away from the door lay an unmoving mass with a familiar colour scheme.

Seeing your own dead body never got any less unsettling. Usually, it was blown into unrecognizable pieces, or shot so full of bullet holes that it resembled red and blue swiss cheese, but this time it was wholly intact, save for the skin that had burned and blackened from the intense heat of the electricity that had rocketed through your body. The stench of burnt clothes, hair, skin, and the early stages of rot permeated the still air, and you quickly tugged your respirator on in disgust. 

“Eugh, thank God I ate earlier, because I think I just lost my appetite.” You scrunched your nose, pulled down your goggles over your eyes, and began gathering chemicals from the various pockets and vials on your person. “Step outside, gentlemen, I’ll have this gone in a moment.”

The two RED’s quickly nodded and left, eager to get away from the smell and knowing exactly how dangerous your materials could be.

After a few minutes and a decent amount of hydrogen fluoride and antimony pentafluoride later, you emerged from the workshop’s interior to see Engineer kneeling on the ground, looking at some tire tracks that you hadn’t noticed before.

“Looks like they turned themselves ‘round and went back the way they came. They’re probably takin’ one’a the nearby backroads.”

“Think you can catch up to them?” You asked, praying that you wouldn’t have to return to your new base without your team. You wouldn’t be able to make it by yourself, and you doubted that the rest of the RED team would be as kind and hospitable as their Engineer had been.

The Texan gave you a sharp grin as he pushed himself up, dusting off his overalls.

“Do sheep wear sweaters? Hop in, and ah’ll show ‘ya just how fast ol’ Betsy can be.”

If you asked Florence if she knew her mercenaries well, you’d probably end up with a bullet in your skull, because you were not supposed to know about her mercenaries. Well, technically, they were Reliable Excavation & Demolition and Builders League United’s mercenaries, and, really, the Administrator’s above even them, but she was the one who scouted them out, checked in on them, interacted with them, gave them their assignments, and helped cover up their fuck ups. 

So, yeah, they were her mercenaries. And you weren’t supposed to know about them, so now you’re lying in a shallow grave after getting very well acquainted with her hacksaw.

But if she pondered your question after the fact, then she’d say that, yeah, she did. She’d spent almost all of her very limited free time around them for the last few years, after all, and she kept an eye on them through the various hidden cameras almost as much as her boss did. She knew both teams equally well, easily picking out each of their many similarities, as well as all their little quirks and differences. For example, she knew that the RED Scout had far more freckles than the BLU one. She knew that the BLU Soldier was actually slightly more tame than his counterpart, and that he wore earplugs more often than not, though he is dedicated to never ever letting anyone find out. She knew that both Pyro’s were afraid of the dark, and she knew the exact brand of cigarettes the Spies liked to order.

She knew that both teams were full of loud, borderline rabid, bat-shit insane lunatics that enjoyed the thrill of killing almost as much as she did, maybe even more. She knew, from experience, just how difficult it was to get most of them to quiet down.

Which is what made the situation she was in so damn eerie.

She was back in Spy’s car, having taken the now available passenger seat. Her eyes kept flicking to the neatly folded blanket in Spy’s lap, its minky blue fabric still damp from the rain. The car was silent, save for the occasional muffled wheeze from Pyro, who had just about cried themself hoarse. Medic was sitting next to the arsonist, hands folded as he stared out the window. To a regular onlooker, he likely would have appeared chillingly nonchalant or uncaring. However, as has been established, Florence Pauling personally knew the men she hired to kill each other, and so she was able to see the little cracks in the man’s facade; the way his lips twitched occasionally, like they almost started to wobble before he caught himself, the slow, controlled breaths he was taking, the way his eyes were wet behind his glasses.

Spy was much the same; a perfect picture of poise and aloofness, unless you knew where to look. His suit had been left lightly rumpled, his expensive leather gloves creaked when his hands shifted, showing just how hard he was gripping the wheel, and his mouth was set in an unnaturally tense line. Occasionally, one of his hands would release their death grip on the steering wheel and slip down to feel the blanket in his lap, gently rolling the fabric between his thumb and forefinger.

None of them spoke. 

What was there to say? What could any of them possibly say to make this situation better? 

What could she say? ‘Sorry for your loss, let me fax you those application forms Medic shredded?’ ‘I know you’re mourning, but we need to hurry up and get back so you can all go back to killing the RED team, which still has their Chemist?’ 

No, silence was the better option here by far.

The purple-clad woman leaned back in her seat, head resting against the window as she committed to memory the sound of a tired yet happy voice saying her name, and the feeling of gloved hands pushing her back towards safety. It was better to think of that, rather than the sight of the BLU Chemist’s body spasming wildly before collapsing to the ground, their smoking body giving a few last jerking, dying nerve reactions. 

As she stared out into the vast, dusty nothingness of the New Mexico landscape, something odd began to appear in the corner of her vision. At first, she thought it was a mirage, a strange flash of red in an otherwise sky blue and sand yellow landscape. 

But then it didn’t go away. 

In fact, it actually began to get bigger, becoming clearer and more defined as whatever it was drew closer. On instinct, she reached for the radio and tuned it to a specific frequency, drawing confused looks from her fellow passengers.

“Guys, I don’t want to alarm you, but something’s coming at us. Fast.” she said, leaning in close to the speaker.

“What zhe hell?” Spy said from her left, taking his eyes off the road to squint towards the horizon.

Pyro and Medic peered outside as well, squeezing in close so they could both get a look at the strange thing that was approaching.

“Sniper, can you get eyes on that thing?” Engineer asked over the radio.

Yeah mate. Just gimme a sec.” came the marksman’s reply.

Turning around in her seat, the raven could see Sniper’s van through the rear window. The man was in the passenger seat now, holding up his rifle and peering through the scope. After a moment, he jerked back, a look of shock on his face. He ducked his head back down to look again, as though he wasn’t sure he’d seen something right. In the driver’s seat, Heavy, who had taken the wheel, gave his teammate a confused and slightly concerned look.

Sniper lowered his rifle after another few moments passed, sliding back into his seat as he shouted something to Heavy, who’s confusion visibly deepened. The Russian did a double take when the marksman said something else, and he quickly said something back to the Australian, who shook his head and pointed out towards the still encroaching… whatever it was.

“Sniper wants team to slow down.” Heavy relayed, his tone making it clear that he wasn’t onboard with the idea. “Says that he… believes he saw leetle Chemist.”

“Oh joy,” Spy snarled, baring his teeth in clear disdain as he spoke into the radio, “our Sniper has finally lost it. I knew too much time spent in zhat deathtrap of his would eventually get to him.”

“Ah hate ‘t say it, but ah agree with Spy. We all- we all saw what happened to ‘em. Even if they survived comin’ back again, they'd have died of exposure, thirst, or starvation by now.” Engineer added glumly, “‘Sides, how in the Sam Hill would they get all the way out here? Snipes, ah think you should maybe go lie down for a bit while we deal with whatever's chasin’ us.”

“What is that?” Pauling asked in a low whisper, rolling down her window to get a better view.

Tuning out the sound of fully grown men bickering behind her, she focused on the anomaly. It was a bright, almost familiar shade of red, and it was kicking up quite a bit of dust as it moved across the desert. Pushing herself slightly out of the window, she picked up on the faint sound of… an engine?

Wait a damn minute.

Wait a Goddamn fucking minute.

Faster than a striking rattlesnake on cocaine, Pauling whipped her phone out and began dialing, holding it up to her ear. After a few rings, a man answered in a thick, smug-sounding Southern drawl.

“Why hello Miss Pauling! To what do ah owe the pleasure?”

“Engie, you fucking asshole!” Florence screeched, getting a confused, offended yell from the BLU Engineer, who could still hear what was being said over their shared transmission, “Did you seriously find the BLU Chemist and not tell me?! Do you know how mad the Administrator was going to be at me?!”

She could hear the RED Spy's telltale snorting cackles in the background of the call, while his BLU counterpart looked the farthest thing from amused.

“Qu'est-ce que c'est? Il vaut mieux que ce ne soit pas une mauvaise blague, sinon je jure devant Dieu que je tâcherai de rouge le sable autour de moi.” he growled as he began to slow down, shooting a deadly glare at what was now obviously a RED vehicle, likely their Engineer's truck.

“Woah now lil’ missy, we didn't mean any harm by it. You were outta range back at the base, and ah just figured it'd be easier to just deliver ‘em right to ‘ya.” The RED chuckled, “Iffen y'all are lookin’ t’ shoot us as soon as we come near, though, then we can always keep ‘em. They make pretty good company, and ‘ah know Spy likes ‘em well enough to help vouch for ‘em to the rest of the team.”

“Shoot you, what are you-” the young woman turned around, spotting several members of BLU pointing their weapons at the approaching REDs, “Scout, Soldier, Sniper! Put your guns away- Engie DROP IT!” 

The other Texan had been gearing up to toss down a mini sentry, but paused at his boss’s shout. Disgruntled, he acquiesced, dropping the beeping little robot back down onto the seat.

“Now that's a might bit better. Chem, you wanna take over communications?” The RED Engineer said, before sounds of rustling fabric and a quiet ‘Thank you!’ came over the line.

“Hey, P.” Pauling could almost hear the smile in the other's voice, something that was rather impressive, given the explosion of noise that came over the radio at the sound, “Guess who's two for two on kicking Death's ass?”

“Hello, Chemist.” She replied softly, smiling back, “Are you alright?”

“Oh yeah, I'm fine!” The mercenary replied quickly, sounding tired, but cheerful, “These two have been great company. Well, Engie has, at least- Spy I'm kidding- and guess what? I finally got my cheeseburger!”

“Zhose are not vhat you should be eating!” Medic chastised from the back, “Zhey are nothing but empty calories! 

“Shut up! I was hungry, and Sniper didn’t let me have mine!”

“Chem,” Pauling interrupted, not wanting to be caught in the middle of another argument, “I’m happy you’re alive, really, I am, but how did you get here?”

“Oh, I Respawned at the new base. I guess the system kicked on because the other team was already there.” the Chemist explained, “I tried calling you, but it didn’t go through, so Engie offered to take me so I didn’t, you know, curl up and die.”

“I… wow, that was really nice of him.”

“Yeah, it was. I seriously owe him for this. I’ll have to buy him a nice dinner some time, or, uh,” they snickered, clearly trying to muffle their laughter, “do something for him.”

Florence got the feeling that she was missing something here.

Judging by the intense glares and scowls Medic, Spy, and likely Pyro were directing towards the truck, which was now close enough for her to pick out details, she knew she wasn’t the only one who picked up on the Chemist’s friendly tone.

“Whatever it is you two end up doing, just remember that, if you want me to not have to rat you out, the Administrator cannot know about it, which means I can’t know about it.” the purple-clad woman stressed.

“I would certainly like to know what zhat cow-boy analphabète believes our Chemist shall be doing for him.” Spy muttered lowly, finally bringing the car to a stop as the RED Engineer’s truck parked on the dusty scrubland a few feet away from them.

“No fighting guys. We don’t need anyone else having to risk not coming back.” Florence warned.

Like a pack of stalking wolves, the nine BLU mercenaries leapt out of their respective vehicles and formed an almost defensive group, most of them having only heard bits and pieces of the phone call, but understanding that they were not here to fight. They walked with an air of tenseness, hands flexing as they resisted the urge to reach for their weapons, clearly feeling uneasy in this unprecedented situation.

Still, there was a clear feeling of nervous excitement. The emotional whiplash of the past few hours had left their emotions raw and more sensitive than usual. All of them stopped when the passenger door of the dusty red truck opened with a soft ‘click!’, the wearily smiling face of their teammate popping up over the metal as they shuffled carefully towards the road.

“CHEM!” Scout yelled, unable to hold himself back anymore. A fond smile made its way onto Pauling’s face as she watched the young Bostonian dash over and scoop the other mercenary up, spinning them around for a moment before gently setting them back down on their feet.

Like deadly, man-slaughtering ducklings, the rest of BLU followed after, warmly welcoming their missing friend back into the fold. Medic was on the Chemist in an instant, examining them while asking more questions than was probably necessary. Soldier gave them what was likely meant to be a gentle pat on the back, but which ended up nearly sending poor Y/N to the ground. 

Meanwhile, Pauling, Spy, and Engineer moved to greet the RED team members, who were stepping out of the vehicle themselves. The two men at Pauling’s side kept their professional appearances well, but she knew they’d like nothing more than to give into their instincts and go for their counterparts’ throats.

“Hey guys,” Florence started, hoping to make this conversation as smooth and bloodshed-free as possible, “thank you so much for bringing the Chemist back. I’ll arrange for your team to get a bonus or something for this, I promise.”

“Aw shucks,” the RED Engineer replied, tipping his hat, “it weren’t no trouble. Ahm sure y’all woulda done the same if y’ were in our shoes.”

“But of course.” the BLU Spy responded, “We’re mercenaries, not monsters.”

“What you are is lucky. Your Chemist should have never survived zhe first time, let alone a second.” the opposite colour Frenchman said, producing a cigarette to light, “Tell me, has your team figured out why Respawn went down?”

The BLU Engineer frowned. “Can’t say we have. I reckon y’all haven’t either, then?”

“Unfortunately not. It's got our team all twisted up with worry, ‘specially our Chemist. The stress has been makin’ her feel just plum awful these past few days.” the crimson-clad Texan sighed, pushing up his goggles to pinch the area between his eyes, “To be honest wit ‘ya, ah’d somewhat hoped that travelin’ with yer one might’a given me some answers, or at least an idea of what went wrong, but ah couldn’t find one single tell. If yer feelin’ amicable enough, ah’d like to work with ya t’ find the problem, so we can all stop bein’ so damn nervous.”

“Hmm.” the BLU Engineer hummed, resting a hand on his chin before glancing over at his boss, “Would that be alright, Miss Pauling?”

Florence adjusted her glasses and nodded. “Usually it wouldn’t, but under these circumstances, I’m sure the Administrator will understand.”

Suddenly, she jumped, remembering something.

“Oh, shit! Guys, we actually need to get going! I need to give the RED Chemist a contract and, like, a thousand other things that have been piling up since I’ve been gone.” She said apologetically, before turning to the RED team members, “Do you two mind if I ride back with you?”

“‘Course not.”

“It’s always a pleasure to have you around, mademoiselle.”

“Okay, great!” the raven said, smoothing down her skirt. She looked over at her companions, tilting her head slightly, “You’ll be fine getting back, right?”

They nodded, and started walking back over to rejoin their teammates. They explained that their employer wouldn’t be coming back with them, and, to her surprise, Chemist pulled away from the rest of the BLUs, walking as fast as they could over to her.

“Hey, I just wanted to ask if you were alright before you left.” The goggle-wearing chemist said, their worry clear in their voice as they laid a hand on her shoulder, “You were pretty close to that powerline too, and I wasn’t sure if you’d gotten injured or not.”

“I’m fine, Chem.” Florence reassured, giving her friend a smile, “My clothes are going to smell like burned cloth and skin for a bit, but that’s it. You got me out of the way in time. Thank you, for that, by the way.”

The Chemist inclined their head, smiling back before turning their attention to the two RED Mercs. “You two get her back safe, understand? I’d hate to have to kill you permanently after all this.” they joked, pointing a ‘stern’ finger at them.

The RED Engineer raised his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t worry, Darl’, she’ll get there right as rain.”

He stepped forward, took the white cowboy hat off his head, and plopped it down onto the Chemist’s, tugging it down gently to secure it.

A few feet away, the other Engineer’s mechanical hand nearly crushed his gun as he shot daggers at his counterpart. 

“Y’ can give me that back when y’all finally show up at the base.” he smirked, “And, iffen yer still up for it, ah think I’ll take ‘ya up on that offer of yours from earlier.”

The Chemist turned a very interesting shade of pink as they tipped the brim of the hat up slightly, revealing that their pupils were blown wide.

“Mnhm, sounds good.” they replied softly, before spinning on their heels and making a beeline for their teammates. 

“I-” Florence started, before cutting herself off, 

“You know what? It’s better if I don’t know what that’s all about.”

You watched as the RED Engineer, Spy, and Miss Pauling drove off, waving to them as best you could.

“Well, ain’t you ‘n them real close.” Engineer said in a tight voice. While it was quite hard to tell where the man was looking most of the time, you got the distinct feeling that he was staring at your new accessory.

“I had to listen to them argue for, like, half the trip.” You replied, “If you come out of that having not murdered them or killed yourself, then it's because you learned to like them.”

“Kinda sounded like you didn’t just like ‘em.” Scout pouted, crossing his arms, “What the hell did youse three get up to?”

“Well let’s see.” You raised your hand, ticking off your fingers as you recounted your joyous road trip shenanigans, “I got the ever loving shit scared out of me by the RED Spy, melted my own corpse, got a cheeseburger so absolutely scrumptious I offered to suck off the RED Engineer,”

“You did what now?!” your Engineer yelped.

“I listened to two fully grown men bicker like toddlers, got regaled with a tale of bread monsters, got my outfit called every French insult under the sun, and passed out from, like, severe malnutrition, probably.” You finished.

“Uh, can we walk that back a couple’a steps, mate?” Sniper asked, flushing pink.

“What, you mean the bread monster? Yeah, no, I didn’t believe it at first either, but Spy swears-”

“Not the bloody bread monster, ya daft tit!” Demo groaned, slapping a hand onto his face, “Why the bleedin’ hell are ya offerin’ t’ give our enemy a gobble?!

“Dear GOD, have they brainwashed you?!” Soldier gasped suddenly, “I swear, I will hunt down each and every one of those communist RED bastards if they so much as touched-”

“Woah, woah, woah!” You rushed to clear up the misconception, “Easy, Sol! No one did anything to me, I promise. I’m still one hundred percent me.”

“Zhen vhy…?” Medic questioned, coughing into his gloves as he trailed off.

“It started as just a joke, honestly. I wasn’t seriously thinking about acting on it at first, but when their Spy accidentally revealed that he was jealous, I started thinking about it a little bit more.” You shrugged, “Plus, well… he’s hot! And he’s nice! And he’s clearly into the idea, so… why not?”

“Why not? Why not?” Spy growled, “Because you are ours! You wear zhe same uniform and kill zhe same men as us! You are a member of BLU, and your standards should be higher zhan zhe first, non, not even zhe first, man who shows even zhe slightest interest in you! Il n’y a aucune raison de se prostituer à ce gros, analphabète Texan!”

You threw your hands up into the air, letting out your own growl of annoyance.

“Look, unless one of you is going to help me take care of my needs when I’m better, I’m walking my ass over to that pretty little base they have!” You stated firmly, crossing your arms and tilting your chin up in a petty, almost defiant way. “Maybe I’ll even proposition the rest of ‘em, I don’t know!”

“Oh my freakin’ GOD!” Scout yelled, “We are literally right here! I don’t know a guy on this team that wouldn’t fuck you if you just asked!”

There was a moment of silence after that sentence, the Bostonian’s words echoing slightly in the empty desert scrubland. The ten of you all stood there, turning red from something that wasn’t the harsh New Mexico sun.

Heavy made a sound first, awkwardly clearing his throat. 

“Scout is- what is word- tactless, but he is also… not wrong.”

“Er, yeah,” Sniper scratched at the back of his neck, “the big guy's got it right. It's just we, uh…”

“Mh muph mmnmnh mhmh.” Pyro finished, talking animatedly with their hands.

“The arsonist is correct.” Spy agreed, still looking a bit flustered under his mask, “This is far from something that is easily brought up.” 

You blinked slowly at your team, absorbing the information. Now, technically, you'd heard this all before, right before you'd died, but hearing it again solidified it in your mind as being real. 

“Well shit.” You swore, planting your hands on your hips, “We all could have been a lot happier ages ago, huh?”

The gathered mercenaries made various sounds of awkward agreement.

“Okay, we definitely need to talk about this, and I mean a real conversation, not all of us standing around like idiots, cooking our brains in the sun while we all blush over the fact that you'd all like a piece of me.” You said, “But I think I'd rather talk in the comfort of our base, wouldn't you all agree?”

Your teammates nodded in agreement, dispersing into their chosen groups as they started back towards your vehicles.

“Yo, Chem, you ridin’ with us?” Scout asked hopefully, hooking his arm beneath yours instinctively as you wobbled slightly. He looked as though he was still feeling a bit hot under the collar, but was doing his very best to keep your conversation casual. 

“Sorry, Scout, but I think I’m gonna pass out soon if I don’t lay down.” you admitted. “I promise I’ll spend some time with you when we get back. Maybe I could help you pack when I’m feeling a bit better?”

“Don’t even worry ‘bout it. You should focus on gettin’ bettah first.” Scout replied, leading you towards Sniper’s campervan, “‘Sides, I already packed up most of my crap, and I think Pyro handled your stuff, so you can just take it easy. Pretty sure the Doc is gonna make you stay in the Medbay, anyway.”

“Scout is correct, mein Chemiker.” Medic piped up, matching your slow, careful stride as he came up beside you, “Now don’t give me zhat face; it vill only be for a few days. I just want to ensure that jou are okay after going through Respawn again in jour state.”

Your expression, which had been one of pouty, light annoyance at being forced into mandatory bedrest in the Medbay, softened a bit. You could hear the genuine concern in the German’s voice, and you knew he had good reason to be. You yourself were worried that something might have gotten messed up, and you knew you were due for another round of supplement shots.

Still, it was going to suck to not be in your own room, surrounded by your familiar comforts. You knew that you’d have a lot of pent up energy by the time you got out.

Huh, actually… you could think of a few fun ways to burn off any excess energy.

“Okay, Doc, I’ll come to my appointment, I promise.” you said, smiling, “But this time, I get to choose the operating room music. You’re not cutting me open to Lili Marlén again.”

“But jou said zhat jou enjoyed it last time! Lale Andersen has zhe voice of ein Engel.” Medic pouted.

“Yeah, but if you keep playing it while you're dissecting my spleen, I’m always going to associate it with getting picked apart like a biology student’s frog.” you explained, “I won’t pick anything too bad, swear on my good beakers!”

“Hmph, I vill hold you to zhat.” the doctor warned teasingly, “Zhere vill be no more ‘Sugar Pie Honey Bunch’ in my operating room.”

“Ugh, you’re so boring.” you teased right back, sticking your tongue out at the man as Scout handed you off to Sniper, who had a fond, lopsided smile on his face. “Hey there, Stretch. Mind helping me to the bed?”

“Not at all, mate.” Sniper replied, laying a warm, sturdy arm across your shoulders, “Not at all.”

Sure enough, after around two weeks of being kept in the Medbay upon your return, your prediction of being just about ready to explode with unreleased energy had proven to be true. Your organs had actually suffered a bit of damage this time around, which had necessitated a longer stay. On top of that, you had needed to move to the new base midway through your treatment, which hadn’t helped things. However, this also meant that Medic could focus on accelerating your healing, and by the time you pranced out of those swinging double doors, you were feeling like your old self again.

Scout and Soldier were waiting there for you, just as they had been on the day you’d failed to come back.

“Heyyyyy, there you are! Freakin’ finally.” Scout whooped, bringing you into a tight hug. You returned it, squeezing back with all your regained strength, “Oof! Yup, you’re bettah alright!”

“Sure am.” you grinned, before releasing the Bostonian to tackle Soldier, who grinned and crushed you to his chest.

“It’s good to have you back in fighting shape, private! Your presence has been missed on the battlefield.” he said, patting you in between your shoulder blades, “Also, I just missed you.”

“I missed you too, Solly.” you replied, knocking your forehead against his helmet gently, “Show me around the base? I saw a bit of it when I Respawned here, but I wasn’t exactly taking in all the finer details.”

“Of course!” Soldier set you down, taking the lead as you, him, and Scout headed off down the hall.

He gave you a tour of the base and the battleground, loudly and excitedly chattering about all the great places to set up ambushes and assaults that this new location provided. You nodded along, adding your own ideas occasionally as you took in your surroundings, inhaling a lungful of warm, apple-scented air for the first time without pain. In a few days, the RED Chemist would be returning from her contract, and you would be returning to the fray, but for now you got to revel in the relative peace of the time between battles.

Eventually, Soldier led you to the barracks, showing you to your room. It had been partially set up; your bed was made and your uniforms had been hung up in your closet, but your casual clothes and personal belongings had been left in their moving boxes. You smiled softly when you flipped open the first box and spotted Pyro’s drawings sitting on top. The firebug had added a few new ones, depicting a healthy you and them frolicking through a shimmering candyland, or petting beautiful unicorns. You snorted with laughter at one of the last ones, which showed you and Pyro sitting aside a golden, fire-breathing dragon, flying high above the base, the arsonist flipping off the RED Spy and Engineer, who were being roasted by the beast.

Speaking of…

“Hey, has anyone seen my hat?” you asked Soldier and Scout, who were peering into one of your, currently empty, terrariums. The two mercenaries glanced at each other.

“Uh, I think Engie took it.” Scout rubbed his chin, “Kept mutterin’ something about the ‘cowboy hat rule.’ He sounded real pissed about it too.”

You tilted your head and frowned. “Cowboy hat rule? What the hell is that?”

“Dunno.” Scout shrugged, “You’d have to ask Hardhat.”

“Maybe I will.” you said, putting the drawings down, “Where is he?”

“The grease monkey is in his workshop!” Soldier said helpfully, “I saw him go in there before I went to wait for you.”

“Perfect,” you smiled, “I’ll be back soon, fellas. Oh, actually, could you two do me a favour?”

The men nodded.

“Tell the others I’d finally like to have that conversation we talked about.” you winked, stepping out the door, “We’ll talk at dinner, yeah?”

Slipping out into the hallway proper, you left two very warm-cheeked mercenaries behind.

“What are the chances we actually score tonight, you think?” Scout asked, biting his lip slightly.

“If Engie doesn’t make ‘em mad?” Soldier grinned, tipping up his helmet slightly, “I’d say I like our odds.”

“God, he bettah not screw dis up.” Scout huffed, folding his arms, “I hope he’s smart enough to just give Chem that hat.”

“Ah ain’t givin’ you that hat.”

The Texan and the Chemist stood almost chest-to-chest, locked in a standoff. Engineer folded his arms and fixed his colleague with the firmest look he could muster, standing absolutely resolute in his decision.

Chemist set their jaw, squinting in annoyance.

“Engie,” they started, voice firm and tone indicating that they were done with this argument, “that hat was a temporary gift. I need to give it back. I don’t know why you’re being such an ass over this, but-”

“Because it ain’t a gift!” the man finally shouted, gritting his teeth.

Chemist reeled back as if they’d been struck, shocked at the man’s outburst. They blinked, then slowly shifted to a more passive stance.

“Okay, clearly I’m missing something here, and it’s making you upset.” they said, backing up a step to give Engineer some much needed space, “Mind filling me in? Does it have something to do with that ‘cowboy hat rule’ Scout mentioned?”

“It has everything to do with that.” Engineer sighed, deflating slightly as his anger returned to a very low simmer, “A cowboy’s hat is considered an extension of his body, a real special article of clothin’. If he puts it on someone’s head, or if someone takes it and puts it on, then that’s basically the same as sayin’ yer real interested in ‘em. The ‘rule’ is basically that if you wear the hat, y’gotta ride the cowboy.”

He folded his arms again, looking into Chemist’s wide eyes. “Him puttin’ that hat on ‘ya like he did and bein’ all flirtatious was almost like him brandin’ you; a real bold move to pull right in front of all of us. You bein’ so friendly ‘n receptive ‘bout it all was just salt in the wound, and now he’s been down right gloatin’ about it ever since we got here!”

Chemist winced, rubbing at the back of their neck. “Aw, jeeze, I’m- I’m sorry, Engie. I didn’t realize how much that might bother you. This has really been eating at you, huh?”

“It has.” he confessed, feeling slightly ashamed by just how much it bothered him, “Ah know yer a grown adult, and ah obviously can’t control what ‘ya do in yer free time, but as ahm sure you’ve figured out, we’re all rather fond of ‘ya, and I ain’t no exception. Seein’ you with him? And then having to work with ‘im these past few days?”

The man shook himself, scowling. “It’s like swallowin’ glass.”

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this worked up outside of battle.” the other mercenary said, before reaching out and taking Engineer’s hands into their own, causing the Texan to jolt slightly in surprise, “Look, I might joke around sometimes, but I am one hundred percent loyal to BLU and everyone who’s a part of it. That other Engineer might get me once, but you can have me as many times as you like.” 

Chemist winked, and Engineer’s eyes widened like saucers, his mouth turning dry as cotton as any words he might have intended to say died in his throat. The other BLU leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek, and Engineer closed his eyes, burning the sensation into his mind as he swallowed.

“And if you’re still worried,” they whispered into his ear, “you can always leave your mark on me.”

“Careful, Darl’,” he growled lowly, wrapping a hand around their waist, enjoying the feeling of muscle and fat, “you don’t know what yer askin’ for.”

“Oh, I think I do.” they grinned ferally, nipping at the Southerner’s neck. Engineer inhaled sharply and let out a curse, tightening his hold when he felt a warm tongue lave the area lovingly.

Suddenly, the contact was gone, Chemist pulling away with a satisfied grin and leaving the poor Texan stunned.

“You can hang onto the hat for now, but I really do need it back.” they tapped his nose, causing him to blink, “Now, we’re all gonna have that little chat at dinner tonight, so don’t be late.”

And with that, they sauntered right back out the door they'd come through earlier, leaving Engie to try and collect himself. Eventually, he managed to shake himself out of his stupor, a grin coming across his face.

“Well, this ought to be mighty interestin’.”

The conversation at dinner had been, to absolutely no one’s shock, awkward as all hell to begin with.

Once everyone had gotten a plate of food in front of them to stare at when things got too uncomfortable, you started laying out basic ground rules. You stressed, through your many stutters, the importance of boundaries, consent and communication, and you made it very clear that if anyone was at all uncomfortable with what you were proposing, then they were more than welcome to voice that without judgement. You were firm as you warned that if you caught wind of anyone teasing or pressuring another teammate about this was going to lose any and all privileges, as well as getting a face full of acid at any given time. 

“Any objections or questions so far?” you asked, taking a bite of your dinner, which was macaroni and cheese.

“If ve’re really going to to zhis, I vould like to propose regular STD tests und use of condoms.” Medic said after a few moments of silence passed in the room, folding his hands in front of him, “Zhis isn’t exactly a closed relationship ve’re talking about here, und I for one vould feel a lot better vith zhat reassurance, zhough I know jou’re all clean as of right now.”

Everyone made noises of agreement. No one wanted to take that risk.

“Do we have to do stuff with everyone? ‘Cause, uh, I definitely ain’t cool with that.” Scout asked, rubbing his arm in discomfort.

“No, of course not.” you reassured, laying a comforting hand over his. “You’re free to be with whoever you want, and you certainly aren’t going to be forced into a relationship.”

Scout relaxed, some of the tension leaving his body. Around the table, a few others seemed to relax as well.

“We will have to keep zhis a well-kept secret. If zhe Administrator finds out, zhen I suspect we will be punished in some cruel and unusual manner.” Spy added, resting his chin on one hand.

“Yeah, she’s real good at that.” Soldier mumbled, still sore over the fact that he’d be tricked and threatened into breaking off the best friendship he’d ever had, one that still hadn’t recovered.

“So no flirting, or anything else, on the battlefield or during work hours.” you nodded, “We’ll save it for contracts, ceasefires, and late night meet ups, I suppose.”

Sniper raised his hand slightly, swallowing his mouthful of food. “And how exactly are we plannin’ on deciding who gets to do what, and when?”

“Scheduling.” you replied, having pondered that very same question, “We’ll come up with a schedule. You guys can draw straws or wrestle or something. I’ll leave how the order gets decided up to you.”

“Battle’s comin’ up in a few days.” Demo said, taking a sip of his Scrumpy, “How’s about we use our performances to decide?”

“Heavy likes that idea,” the large Russian man nodded, “it means I will be first.”

“Hey, woah, back it up, tons ‘a fun!” Scout protested, jabbing his fork in the other’s direction, “You musta hit yer head or somethin, cause everyone knows I’m gonna be the one comin’ out on top, as usual.”

“You? Do something aside from running your mouth and getting shot full of bullets? Please, don’t make me laugh.” Spy snarked, picking at his dinner while side-eying the Bostonian.

“Don’t get too cocky, Spook. God knows yer gonna end up on the hot end of the enemy Pyro’s flamethrower more often than not.” Sniper teased, “Meanwhile, I’ll be rackin’ up kills left ‘n right.”

“Hey Py, ah’ll share mah time if y’ team up with me.” Engineer offered, smirking when the arsonist mumbled in cheerful agreement, giving the Southerner a fistbump.

“Ooh, ve’re making alliances?” Medic perked up, “Heavy, team up with me, ja?”

“конечно, доктор.” 

“Oye, that ain’t fair!” Demo shouted, banging his fist down on the table, “Soldier, yer with me!”

“Affirmative!” the American saluted, “We are going to crush each and every one of your pansy asses!”

“This is bullshit!” Scout yipped, realizing that his teammates were absolutely willing to partner up if it meant having a better shot at first pick, “Yo, Snipes, we teamin’ up?”

“Bettah you then Spy.” the marksman leaned over the table and shook hands with the runner. “Alright, jackrabbit, let’s do this.”

“Feelin’ left out, Spy?” Engineer asked, reaching for his cup of sweet tea.

“Not at all.” came the Frenchman’s smooth reply, “I am confident enough in my abilities to not feel zhe need to rely on zhe help of another to win. Unlike you, toymaker, I am not willing to share my lovers.”

“Keep a good hold on that confidence ‘a yers.” the Texan chuckled, “You’ll need somethin’ t’ help repair yer shattered pride once you come dead last.”

You took another bite of your macaroni, enjoying the growing sense of… friendly competition. The next battle was going to be a bloodbath, and you absolutely could not wait to see it.

And, of course, you were very excited to see who came out as the victor.

The sound of gunfire and dying men was like music to your ears as you finally returned to the battlefield. Your limbs ached from the lack of use, and you could certainly feel the strain now, but you welcomed the pain, grinning into your mask as you lobbed another vial at a passing Scout, your smile widening as you snickered at his howls of pain.

Your team was dominating the battlefield today, each member striving to get the most amount of kills. The energy of the battle was even a little bit lighter than usual today, likely due to the fact that the mystery of the Respawn malfunction had finally been solved on the Sunday before the battle.

Apparently, according to Engineer, the issue had been caused by too many units being active at once, which all but confirmed your theory of other teams existing out in the world. It had nothing to do with you specifically, you’d simply been the unlucky bastard who had come through at the boiling point. The information had come as a huge relief, even if the answer had left you with quite a few questions. You would have to ask Miss Pauling about it the next time she came around the base, though you doubted you’d get any real answers. Something told you that, if the other teams had never been mentioned to any of you before, then you weren’t supposed to know about them.

Actually, maybe you should just keep your mouth shut this time. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction wouldn’t be enough to bring you back, if the Administrator decided to disable your Respawn capability.

Shaking your head, you dashed forward, side-stepping the sizzling corpse at your feet. Running across the dry Texas grass, you threw yourself against the side of the nearest building, a smaller, ramshackle barn at the edge of the treeline. From where you stood, you managed to catch a glimpse of Pyro, Soldier, and Engineer taking a new vantage point to set up a sentry, before the arsonist suddenly spun around, blasting a plume of flame at your helmeted friend. You winced, watching as the RED Spy’s illusion melted away, along with his skin.

Well, you supposed you wouldn’t be seeing too much of him today. That was a shame; the Frenchman could be surprisingly funny, when he wanted to be. You’d hoped to get a chance to tease him and see if you could make him blush again, or perhaps some part of you wanted to provide your own Spy with an easy kill.

Just as you started off towards your teammates, ready to help them secure the nearest point, you saw something whip over your head. Before you knew it, your arms were suddenly pinned at your sides, and you’d been tugged backwards, landing on your rump with a sharp yelp of pain. The white cowboy hat that you’d managed to get back from Engineer, which had been sitting snugly on your head, slipped down over your eyes as you were dragged back towards the trees, leaving you blind.

You panicked for a moment, struggling against the tight rope. However, you paused upon hearing a familiar voice, chills running up your spine, both from fear and from pleasure. A gloved hand plucked the hat off your head, the mechanical movement clicking softly in your ear. You tilted your head back, looking up at the man who was holding the lasso that had left you so defenseless.

“Hello there, Darl’.” The RED Engineer purred, leaning against the trunk of one of the apple trees, “Ready to make good on that offer?”

Annnnd that wraps up Respawn Malfunction! Again, big thanks to @pinkypiechar for reading along with me in the wee hours of the morning, keeping me motivated and catching any mistakes I made. You a real one pookie. <3

[pyro-tf2-but-trans]

After extensive research (scrolling down on my blog a few times) I noticed I have never headcanoned ages, so for my reemergence, here’s how old I think the mercs are and some other stuff :)

Scout

23 (im pretty sure this is canon)

Born April 8th

has a fuckass tooth gap, needed braces as a kid that he hated and refuses to wear his retainer now (medic does NOT approve)

terrible diet, he's only so thin because of his occupation and insane metabolism. He hasn't seen a vegetable since last time he visited his ma.

On that note, he's also TERRIBLE about drinking water and gets confused as to why he always has a headache.

boyfailure <3

decent cook, actually

as in the food he makes is edible, despite however it might look visually

grew up just outside of Boston

Keeps random shit on his walls, constantly needs more thumbtacks. Posters, post its, stickers, pictures, signs... why is there a fucking SPOON taped next to his door this is ridiculous.

Sometimes he catches himself sucking his thumb at his big age, the loser

when he was a kid he got bullied for not looking like his siblings like at all

Soldier

38

born July 3rd (WHY COULDN'T YOU HOLD HIM IN A LITTLE LONGER, MOM.)

world war autism

both as in intensity and special interest

First got into US military type stuff hearing about the Vietnam war as a kid, it fascinated him and made him absolutely determined to help

grew up in Minnesota, ironically HATES the cold

typa guy to make himself run laps and junk if he realized he was being rude to women or something

probably ace, yes I know he has children shut up

Pyro

probably the youngest on the team, maybe 25?

born December 20th

facial dysmorphia :(

they have burn scars all over their body from an old memory they've since pushed deep into the back of their head

they can handle not wearing their suit if they absolutely have to, but avoid mirrors lest they stare into it for a long time not quite recognizing the person looking back at them

medic and engie are really the only ones that have seen them outside of the suit more than once

sorry that got sad lol

anyway they hate being infantilized, not only for being the youngest but also for being delusional

it doesn't happen as often as you'd think, at least. But sometimes medic will baby talk them when they're getting a checkup or scout will say something ignorant. They can ignore it but it gets annoying.

they enjoy chocolate ice cream

a fan of the cold in general

pretty handy, actually. They built their flamethrowers and a good few of their melee weapons, engie taught them a lot.

cutting this short cause I've been yapping about pyro for too long

Demoman

36

born January 31st

has only actually been to Scotland like twice, he was born in the us with his mum, just grew up with her long enough to gain the accent anyway

doesn't know a lick of Gaelic, sorry. Obviously words like "bonnie" and "Gob" slip out, but that's just basic Scottish vocabulary lmao

he has a collection of eye patches, he thinks his missing eye is kinda cool when he isn't annoyed about his lack of depth perception

he uses bombs specifically because of his lack of depth perception, actually, since as long as he hits within the vicinity of his target he usually wins

he's a fan of the outdoors, hangs around sniper sometimes

crazy smart, specifically a chemistry nerd (obviously) but he can answer crazy specific questions on anything. this also means he's very good at converting measurements, if you're ever baking or something lol

that last part specifically helps whenever the European dweebs say something metric and the Americans need a translator.

"yeah that's 55 kilometers away" "..." "that's about 34 miles, lad" "oooohhh"

Heavy

54, the eldest

born August 16th

hes generally pretty good at English, but certain words annoy him

like colorful? jump

likes working out with soldier, specifically lifting. The most wholesome gym bros.

helps short people reach things on tall shelves

not a whole lot I haven't already said about him lol

Engineer

42

born June 10th

horrific blue eye stare

get brown eye contacts I'm scared

scout clings to him almost as much as pyro does, actually.

he doesn't mind all that much, at least

speaks Spanish pretty fluently, though he has a very obvious accent and has yet to master rolling his Rs, he's trying his best at least <3

he's a fan of fall

used to be the worlds most annoying angsty teenager, if you can believe it

grew out of it, obviously, but he still has a crap ton of old vinyl records of all the rock bands he used to listen to in secret in a box somewhere

(if you're wondering, his parents were NOT fans)

he has four siblings! he's the second eldest, two sisters and two brothers

knows a bit of medical stuff from medic, its how he put the healing factor into the dispenser

Medic

46

born March 19th

never went to medical school, but he did quite a bit of studying in both human anatomy and biology

so yeah he never had a medical license in the first place lol

he has a collection of bones and other bits (organs, wet specimens, etc etc)

human? animal? yes

the med bay smells like birds, its not sanitary

he's a good medic despite all of these, though! just double check that you have all your guts in order before and after an operation! scout still has a bird in his chest, after all.

off topic but he also has really thick hair that sheds a lot, like if he lays down somewhere you can find a bunch of black hairs like little snakes all over the place

^hes just like me for real!

like weirdly beefy? that medigun is heavier than it looks, and the backpack is even heavier

hed be a fan of squid game in a modern au

Sniper

30

born February 23rd

weirdly cagey about his birthday?? like he'll tell you if you ask but he'll be all like "what?? why do you need to know that??"

his footsteps don't make noise, he regularly startles people (scout) by just walking into a room and just standing there

sushi fan

like never gets sick, probably from being outside all the time his whole life but his immune system is made out of steel

medic finds this fascinating lol

blind as hell without his glasses

shaves with his knife just because he thinks its cool lmao

he has a scar on his cheek because of this though he lies and says its because he almost got hit by an enemy sniper

loser hides under his hat when he's embarrased

kisses him with tongue

Spy

50

born ??? (he says a different date every time someone asks)

THIS BITCH ISNT EVEN FRENCH!!!!!

grew up in like Nevada and puts on the whole french thing to be more anonymous

fuck is a petite chou fleur?? your little cauliflower?? come on now

#spyhater

no but I do think he is a spy, and a very good one at that (he managed to convince everyone he's french, after all)

he was supposed to be on a way more advanced team but got misplaced but he was useful on the team so he stayed there (and he felt guilty about leaving his son yet again)

needed braces as a kid, wears his retainer religiously

he's visibly uncomfortable with having his mask off, but not in the same way pyro is. He hates the idea of being seen more than they hate seeing themselves.

If he doesn't like you he won't make it obvious, but he'll just. stare at you for an uncomfortable amount of time. not even in a death glare way, more like he's calculating how many ways he could make you vanish into thin air

sniper thinks he's neat