I understand your pain. Trust me, I do. I've seen people go from the darkest moments in their lives to living a happy, fulfilling life. You can do it too. I believe in you. You are not a burden. You will never be a burden.
Fandoms: TF2 (Spy is my beloved (I wanna be buddies with Sniper and Scout)), K-pop (Stray Kids, Itzy, kiss of life, katseye (music, I don’t approve all of their doings)), Descendants and Zombies (Disney), Love and deep space (Rafayel is my malewife), The Umbrella Academy ( Season 4 isn't real, Five is my mood and husband)
Like:
• Take care of people who are dear to me, helping
• Drawing
• Writing
• Listening to music
• Deep talks
• Comforting silence
• Quietness
• Making people who are dear to me happy and laugh
• Green tea
• Cats
• The smell of caramel, cinnamon, vanilla, lavender and sea salt.
• Cinnamon roll
• Field flowers
• White chocolate (especially bubbly)
• Sleeping
• Philosophy
• Psychology
• My family (especially my little sister, my grandmother from my mother's side and my cousin)
Dislike:
• Conflicts
• Aggressive people
• Loud noises
• Betrayals
• Crowds
• Rude people
• Cold shoulder without a reason
• Bullies
• Ignorance
• Straightforward people who doesn't think about consequences and how they can hurt people without a filter of what they are saying
• Using person's weak spots against them to hurt them deeply
Random facts about me:
• I'm the oldest child
• I'm Bisexual and Demisexual
• INFJ 2w1
• December Sagittarius
• Study at the Linguistics University
• Used to play violin for two years
• Started to learn Chinese, but cause it was really exhausting and took a lot of time so I stopped, but I'm studying French on my own now.
• Really loyal and value loyalty from others
• I'm a really empathetic person, I feel emotions of other people really deeply
• Hardworking perfectionist
• Ambidextrous (Can use both hands equally)
• Can do a lot of things at the same time
• Kind and understanding, I try to understand why people act the way they do, even if it hurts.
• Enjoy analyzing people (not in a creepy way) and myself.
• If I feel that you're still important for me I'm ready to give a second chance. I'm still kind and care for you means that I still treasure you. Cause if you aren't important for me anymore, I dissappear suddenly without a word, you wouldn't even understand it.
• My love languages - Physical touch and Words of Affirmation
My motto: "Always pray to have eyes that see the best in people, a heart that forgives the worst and a mind that forgets the bad."
I hope it was interesting and helped you to know me a bit, if you still have questions you are welcome to ask, I'll be really happy to answer them and just talk, if you need a shoulder to cry on - I'm here, you can write me. 🥹
(P.S. If you read this far — thank you. You’re awesome 🫂)
This story was heavily inspired by "Bad Girl" by AND ONE. The song's atmosphere fits these two far too well.
TW: Playful tension ahead. You've been warned. Proceed with caution. :)
Word Count: 2,677
Cold hands, warm hearts and a cherry smoke – unspoken art of staying.
Sniper had no idea what the hell was wrong with him.
Really.
He'd been fine. More than fine, if he was being honest. So why was he sitting alone in his van, staring blankly at the floor like the world had just ended?
It was ridiculous.
His teammates were out there fighting for their lives, waiting for him to do his damn job, and yet here he was feeling sorry for himself.
───
Mick let out what had to be his millionth sigh of the morning, absentmindedly stirring the coffee in front of him.
"Bushman, I swear to God, if you sigh one more time, je vais t'étrangler, putain."
RED Spy didn't even bother looking up as he prepared his own cup.
"Sorry, mate." Mundy rubbed the back of his neck. "Don't know what's wrong with me. Found this photo in my van and I..." The words died in his throat.
"And you what, bushman?" Spy finally glanced at him over his shoulder.
He took a sip from Scout's latest attempt at coffee and immediately grimaced. "Mon Dieu. This is horrible." The cup was abandoned without hesitation.
"It's nothin'." Mundy stood before the conversation could continue. "Just nothin'." Leaving his half-finished coffee behind, he headed for the door.
Spy watched him leave, cigarette already between his fingers.
Strange.
The sniper usually wasn't this quiet.
───
Mick barely remembered making it back to his van. One moment he'd been standing in the kitchen. The next, he was sitting on the floor with an old photograph in his hands.
His only photograph.
A faded picture from Australia. A little boy smiling at the camera. His parents standing beside him.
No war.
No contracts.
No rifles.
Just home.
For some reason, looking at it now felt almost unbearable.
The edges of the photograph were worn from years of handling. The paper was soft where his fingers had touched it countless times.
It was the only piece of his old life he still had. And nobody knew about it.
Slowly, Mick slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. The photo disappeared back into his vest pocket. His face vanished into his hands. He wasn't tired.
He was exhausted.
God, he missed home.
He missed Australia.
But most of all—
He missed his parents.
People rarely expected that from him. At first glance, Sniper didn't exactly seem like the sentimental type. He spent most of his life alone. He preferred the company of his rifle to people.
Yet somehow, despite years spent on the other side of the world, he still missed them. Still wondered how they were doing. Still remembered every goodbye.
Mick laughed bitterly under his breath. What happened? He'd spent years distracting himself. Years convincing himself that none of it mattered. So why now? Why was one stupid photograph suddenly enough to crack him open?
He wasn't the kind of man who cried.
But right now he wished the entire world would disappear and leave him alone in the safety of his van.
A sharp burst of arguing from his radio shattered the silence. Sniper flinched. "Bloody hell..." The device clipped to his belt crackled with overlapping voices and insults. "Stop screamin', ya pack of maggots," he growled, pressing the button. "Or I'll shoot every single one of ya myself. Whatcha need?"
"Bring ya ass over here or I'll drag ya here myself!"
Scout.
Of course it was Scout.
Mundy closed his eyes for a second. God help him, but that kid was a real pain in the ass sometimes.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm comin'."
He lowered the radio volume and pushed himself to his feet. The photograph remained safely tucked away inside his vest.
Unfortunately, the feeling it left behind didn't.
───
Sniper adjusted the scope with practiced ease, settling into position. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out.
The battlefield stretched out beneath him.
BLU Soldier. Perfect target. Easy shot.
His finger tightened slightly around the trigger.
Then his mind betrayed him.
For a split second, instead of the Soldier's helmet, he saw a faded photograph. His mother's smile. His father's hand resting on his shoulder. Home.
The shot rang out.
The bullet missed.
Only barely.
But it missed.
Soldier's head snapped toward the sound immediately. "Bloody hell." Mundy cursed under his breath.
That should've been an easy kill. A guaranteed one.
He shifted the rifle back into position. Focus. Just focus.
The radio on his belt exploded with noise. "SNIPER!" "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" "YA MISSED!"
"SHUT UP!" Mundy barked.
The voices quieted for approximately half a second. Then they started yelling again.
Wonderful. Just wonderful.
The Soldier was already moving now, searching for the sniper nest.
Mundy steadied his breathing.
The photograph. The coffee. The strange ache in his chest.
None of it mattered right now. He had a job to do.
The crosshairs settled over Soldier's forehead. This time the shot landed exactly where it belonged.
The body hit the ground. Finally. "About time," he muttered. A sudden rustle sounded somewhere behind him.
Mundy spun around instantly, rifle raised. Nothing. No movement. No enemy.
Just trees. Wind. Silence.
His jaw tightened. He could've sworn someone had been there. Watching. The feeling lingered for only a moment before another wave of screaming came through the radio.
Apparently his teammates had discovered a brand new reason to argue.
───
By evening the entire RED team was crowded around the table in the common room. Beer bottles. Empty plates. Loud voices. Nothing unusual.
The mission, however, had not gone particularly well.
And everyone knew why.
Mundy sat quietly with a half-empty glass in his hand, hoping nobody would bring it up. That hope lasted less than five minutes.
"You missed." Scout pointed at him immediately.
"There it is," Sniper sighed.
"You missed one shot and it cost us fifteen minutes of fighting for that position!"
"Jeremy—"
"No, Engie, let me finish!" Scout jabbed a finger toward the sniper. "We lost the point. We lost the position. We lost an Engineer because somebody couldn't hit one bloody target."
The room fell noticeably quieter. Mundy stared into his beer. He didn't answer.
That alone was enough to make Engineer nervous.
"Son," Engineer started carefully, "everybody has bad days."
"Bad days?" Scout nearly choked. "That's what we're callin' it now?"
"Jeremy."
"No! Seriously, what was his problem out there?" The youngest mercenary threw his hands into the air. "Personal stuff stays off the battlefield!"
The words hit harder than they should have. Much harder. Mundy's grip tightened around the glass. Maybe because Scout wasn't entirely wrong.
"Jeremy." Engineer sounded less patient now.
Still, Scout pushed forward. "We lost to those BLU idiots because of—"
"Enough."
The room froze.
Spy hadn't raised his voice.
He hadn't needed to.
The single word cut through the conversation like a knife.
Slowly, he lowered his cigarette. Cold blue eyes settled on Scout. "Tais-toi."
Scout immediately remembered that self-preservation was, in fact, a useful skill.
Silence followed. A long one.
Mundy let out a quiet breath. "Thanks, mate."
Spy only waved a hand dismissively. As if it was nothing. As if he hadn't just saved Scout from becoming the next victim of a mysterious smoking accident.
The sniper stood. The beer suddenly tasted bitter. "I'm headin' out."
Nobody stopped him. Not even Scout.
───
The night air was cool. Finally. After a day of shouting, gunfire, and headaches, the silence felt almost sacred.
Mundy lowered himself onto the grass beside his van. His glasses disappeared into his vest pocket. His hat followed shortly after.
For a while he simply sat there. Listening. Wind moving through the trees. Distant insects. The occasional voice drifting from the base.
Anything was better than his own thoughts.
Unfortunately, his thoughts refused to cooperate. The missed shot. The photograph. The argument. And one more thing.
That rustle.
That strange feeling someone had been standing behind him.
He'd asked RED Spy about it earlier. The Frenchman had looked at him like he'd suddenly grown a second head. Apparently he'd been nowhere near the sniper nest.
Which left only one explanation. Mundy was losing his mind. "Fantastic." He dropped backward onto the grass. The stars stared back.
For a moment he closed his eyes. The scent of rain-soaked earth lingered in the air.
Then another smell reached him. Smoke. Cherry tobacco. Something warm beneath it. Something familiar.
Mundy's eyes opened immediately. "...No way."
A pair of gloved hands suddenly wrapped around his shoulders. Mundy barely had time to react before a hand covered his mouth. "Tsk." A familiar voice brushed against his ear. "Quiet, bushman. You'll wake the entire forest."
The sniper immediately relaxed. "Bloody hell, Spook."
The hand disappeared.
Mundy leaned back against the other man's chest without even thinking about it. "You tryin' to give me a heart attack?"
"I was aiming for mild irritation." Spy sounded entirely too pleased with himself.
The Australian rolled his eyes. "Mission accomplished."
A soft chuckle rumbled somewhere behind him.
For a while neither of them spoke. The wind rustled through the trees. The smell of cherry tobacco lingered in the air.
Comfortable silence settled between them. One of the few things both men genuinely appreciated.
Eventually Spy spoke first. "You look terrible."
"Cheers, mate."
"I mean it."
Mundy snorted. "So do you."
"That is impossible." The response came so quickly that Sniper actually laughed.
A real laugh.
Not a forced one.
Not the bitter thing he'd been doing all day.
Spy noticed. Of course he noticed. The Frenchman always noticed.
The assassin moved around and lowered himself onto the grass beside him. The mask concealed most of his expression, but not the concern in his eyes.
"Now." Spy brushed a speck of dirt from his sleeve. "Would you care to explain what has been haunting you all day?"
"Nothin'."
"Bushman."
"Spook."
The Frenchman sighed dramatically. "One day I shall ask you a simple question and receive a simple answer."
"Keep dreamin'."
The corner of Spy's mouth twitched. For a second the familiar banter returned. Then it disappeared again. The silence stretched.
Mundy looked away.
Spy watched him carefully. The sniper's shoulders seemed lower than usual. His eyes looked tired. Not physically tired. Something worse. The kind of exhaustion sleep couldn't fix. The realization made the assassin frown.
"Did someone die?"
"No."
"Are you injured?"
"No."
"Did one of your teammates finally succeed in driving you insane?"
"Close."
That earned another small smile. Progress.
Spy leaned back on his hands. "Then tell me."
The Australian swallowed. The words felt stupid. Embarrassing. Childish, even. But keeping them inside wasn't helping either. "I found an old photograph."
The Frenchman blinked. That wasn't what he'd expected. "A photograph."
"Yeah." The sniper picked at a blade of grass. "My parents."
The joke forming on Spy's tongue died immediately. "Oh." That explained a lot. More than he wanted to admit.
Mundy stared out at the dark field. "I haven't seen 'em in years." The words came quietly. Almost reluctantly.
"I know."
"I know they're fine." A pause. "I think." Another pause. "I just..." His voice cracked slightly. The sniper immediately looked annoyed with himself. "Forget it."
Spy didn't move. Didn't joke. Didn't interrupt. For once he simply waited.
Mundy let out a slow breath. "I miss 'em."
The confession hung in the air. Simple. Honest. Painfully so.
Spy stared. Of all the things he expected to hear tonight, that had not been one of them. Not because it was strange. Because it was human. And sometimes he forgot how human Mick Mundy actually was.
The sniper laughed once. Humorless. "Sounds stupid when I say it out loud."
"No."
The response came immediately.
Mundy looked up.
Spy was still watching him. Quietly. Carefully.
"No, bushman." The assassin reached over and nudged his shoulder. "It doesn't."
For the first time that evening, the tight knot in Mick's chest loosened slightly. Only slightly. But enough. Enough to breathe. Enough to stay. Enough to let the silence return.
And this time neither of them minded it.
For a while neither of them spoke. The forest remained quiet. The wind moved lazily through the trees. Somewhere far away, someone was probably getting blown up. A normal evening.
Mundy stared at the grass beneath his boots. Spy pretended not to watch him. Neither of them was particularly convincing.
Finally the sniper spoke. "Scout was right, y'know."
The Frenchman sighed immediately. "God help me."
"No, listen."
"I am already regretting this conversation."
Mundy ignored him. "I screwed up today."
"One missed shot."
"It cost us the point."
"It happens."
"Not to me."
The answer came too quickly. Too sharply.
And suddenly Spy understood. This wasn't about the photograph anymore. Not entirely.
The missed shot had simply given every ugly thought in Mick's head a target.
The assassin leaned back slightly. "You are impossible."
"Cheers."
"I mean it."
Mundy huffed.
Spy shook his head. "You miss one shot and suddenly you behave as though the world is ending."
"Easy for you to say."
"Of course it is."
The sniper finally looked at him.
The Frenchman met his gaze without hesitation. "You know what I see?"
"What?"
"A stubborn Australian with terrible social skills."
"Oi."
"An alarming amount of emotional repression."
"Spy."
"And a sniper who remains painfully good at his job."
The protest died before it could leave Mundy's mouth.
Spy continued. "You had one bad day." The assassin shrugged. "I've seen you survive worse."
The Australian looked away. His throat suddenly felt tight. Again. Damn it.
"Bushman."
Mundy swallowed. "Yeah?" The voice came out rougher than intended.
The Frenchman hesitated. Only for a second. Then he reached forward and took one of the sniper's hands.
The Australian froze.
Cold. The man's hands were freezing. Even in summer.
"Mon Dieu." Spy frowned. "How are you alive?"
Mundy laughed weakly. "There he is."
"There who is?"
"The dramatic Frenchman."
Spy rolled his eyes. "Be quiet."
But he didn't let go. Instead his thumb brushed across Mick's knuckles. Slowly. Carefully.
The gesture felt oddly intimate. Far more intimate than either of them wanted to acknowledge.
The sniper's ears immediately started turning red.
Spy noticed. Naturally. "You are blushing."
"Am not."
"You are."
"Shut up."
The Frenchman smiled. A small one. Rare. Genuine. And dangerous.
Because suddenly neither of them was talking about parents. Or missed shots. Or bad days.
The silence changed. Mundy could feel it. So could Spy.
Neither seemed particularly eager to address it.
For the first time in years, the assassin found himself struggling to find the right words. A ridiculous situation. Then again—
Mick Mundy had always been a ridiculous man. The sniper looked down at their joined hands. "So..."
"So?"
"You really don't think I'm a disaster?"
The question came out quieter than intended. The smile disappeared from Spy's face.
"Oh, bushman." The response was almost a sigh. Almost. The assassin lifted their hands slightly. Just enough to press a brief kiss against Mick's knuckles. Nothing dramatic.Nothing theatrical. Just one small gesture. One moment. One truth. "No."
Mundy forgot how to breathe.
Spy immediately looked far too pleased with himself. "See?"
The sniper stared. "Spook."
"Yes?"
"What was that?"
The Frenchman smirked. The kind of smirk that should probably be classified as a weapon. "French medicine."
"You're an idiot."
"And yet you keep coming back."
The Australian laughed despite himself. The knot in his chest loosened for the first time all day. The ache remained. But it felt lighter now. Manageable.
Spy stood first, dusting grass from his suit. "Come."
"Where?"
"We are returning before your team sends a search party."
"They won't."
"They absolutely will."
Mundy snorted. The Frenchman offered him a hand. The sniper looked at it. Then at him. Then took it.
Neither let go immediately. Neither commented on it. And somehow that made it worse. Or better. Possibly both.
As they walked back toward the distant lights of the RED base, the summer breeze followed quietly behind them.
For once, neither man seemed in a hurry to break the silence. And for once—
This is a bit of a doozy so you're totally free to ignore it if you want, but thoughts on the mercs and their interests in bondage and/or bdsm? Ropes, gags, chains, blindfolds, stuff like that.
I’ve touched on dom/sub dynamics in a few different posts so for this one I’ll stick to bondage
NSFW under the cut
All tied up
Scout: someone please gag him!!! I think he would like being tied up because being immobilized is not something he usually experiences if that makes sense. Like he is constantly on the move and even if someone grabs him he’s very good at squirming away so being in a position where he’s completely unable to escape is 🥵. Idk how good he’d be at tying you up though bc I feel like he has a hard time with knots. Couldn’t even tie his shoes until he was like 12
Soldier: someone gag this one too. No need for a blindfold, his helmet basically does that for him. He would be good at tying you up bc he learned lots of knots in the army (before they kicked him out)
Pyro: likes being tied up! The pressure is nice. Definitely likes being suspended from the ceiling lol they would have so much fun swinging around. Also good at tying you up. I feel like they could get really into complicated beautiful shibari stuff
Demo: claims he wouldn’t mind being tied up but then complains that he can’t touch you. Actually knows a thing or two about knots so he can tie you up pretty effectively, but then complains that you can’t touch him lmao. I think the ideal for him would be some sort of harness where the hands are still free
Heavy: good luck tying him up. He will simply break free. Or so he says. In reality if you ask nicely he will let you tie him up but he will insist that you make the knots tighter. Doesn’t really want to tie you up because it just seems like a waste of time. If he wanted to immobilize you he could easily do so with just his hands
Engie: Another guy I think would be good at tying you up. Definitely knows a lot of cool knots and gets very engrossed in the whole process. Honestly I’m torn on whether he would like being tied up or not. I have this idea that he’s a little claustrophobic and being restricted like that might trigger it
Medic: Hell yeah. Big fan of medical restraints obviously. Would really love strapping you down to his operating table or vise versa. I also think he would really like being blindfolded. Like knowing that you could be anywhere and do anything to him and he wouldn’t see it coming makes him all giggly
Sniper: I think if you tied him up he’d genuinely panic like a cat that got put in its crate to go to the vet. He’d start chewing the ropes and shit. I think a collar or something would work best for him (I’m barking. Or I guess he’s barking). If you wanna be tied up he’s plenty willing to do it but I don’t think it’s something he’d think of on his own
Spy: I’ve said it before but his ass loves beautiful and intricate shibari. Anything pretty looking is up his alley. He doesn’t even care about the restraint aspect that’s just a cool bonus to him
...Spy loosened his tie, tossing it onto one of the armchairs before glancing over at his colleague.
Sniper was in the middle of practicing close combat with his Kukri — or at least attempting to — which immediately earned an irritated sigh from the Frenchman.
– Bushman, qu'est-ce que tu fous?
– Mate, you'd be shocked, but I didn’t understand a bloody thing ya just said.
Mick answered with a smug grin.
Spy rolled his eyes and stepped closer.
–Your posture is awful. Who taught you how to hold a knife?
He moved behind the sniper, one hand pressing lightly against his lower back while the other adjusted the angle of his wrist.
– And this? – Spy scoffed softly. – You call this a knife? Mon dieu… this is an insult to the weapon.
Leaning over Mundy’s shoulder, the assassin plucked the Kukri from his hand and tossed it carelessly onto the armchair beside his tie before slipping one of his own knives into the sniper’s palm.
– Now, – he murmured near Mick’s ear, – we can practice properly.
Sniper swallowed sharply.
He could swear he felt a shiver run down his spine...
Spoiler for fem!Speeding bullet one-shot - "Crisismas. No one goes away forever".
Guys, names for our dear girls - Jamine (Jam/Jammy for short) and Micka (Mick for short)
...Micka was sitting on the sofa with a small smile, chuckling at two kids fighting over the tiara. They were adorable. Sniper blew away a dark strand of hair which started to loose it's color and started to get more grey. Seeing this kids the woman started to remember younger days which they enjoyed with Jamine together. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't even see Jammy entering the room before a familiar tune of Tom Jones started playing from an old gramophone in the corner of the room right across the couch on which older woman was relaxing right now.
– Seriously darl'? I can promise ya that I know this tune by heart right now. I guess some things never change.
Sniper chuckled, taking a small sip from her wine glass which she soon placed on the coffee table.
– Oh please wanker. You don't hate it no matter how hard you're trying to act like it,
Jammy chuckled back, reminding other woman of the teasing taunts which they had when they were younger...
