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intheshadowsbehindyou · 2 months

Note

Heyyy love you’re work! I strive to be a good writer like yourself one day! I was thinking how would the mercs react to a goth person like myself:) it’s okay if you don’t wanna do this! Have a love day!

I think to sum it up, all of them are completely clueless and stupid but could care less.

The TF2 Mercs reacting to a reader who is goth

WARNING: stupid idiots

Scout:

- Huh… A little interested occasionally, looking up and down you while he thinks you’re not looking. Not really much of a reaction other than the typical awkward glances people give goths to admire them for a spilt second.

- Has no fucking clue what kind of style that is. It isn’t his preference for sure but it looks good on you and that’s all that matters. Bullies you for something completely unrelated to the fact you’re goth probably.

- “Hey! Nice fuckin’ shirt chucklehead! Where’d you get that one? Grandma’s couch?” He says when he sees you in a somewhat ‘conforming’ outfit for once. He’s gotten so used to you wearing your usual, that he doesn’t hesitate to pick on you for not being edgy enough. It’s a pride issue for him. Normally Scout would wear stuff shamelessly and the fact you aren’t yourself right now is giving him vibes that you might have grown insecure in some way. He genuinely thinks this’ll help you. Backwards elementary school logic.

- He can’t show appreciation without being a massive fucking dickhead. It’s a certified scout L moment. At least his heart is in the right place I guess?

————————————————————————-

Solider:

- Ingeniously freaks the fuck out because he thinks you’re one of Merasmus’ weird ghost apparitions. Nearly grabs you and beats the shit out of you in fear because he owes that wizard around $200 after a grenade-down-the-toilet incident and he doesn’t want to pay. Engineer and Pyro have to pull him off you. I am literally so sorry.

- “MOTHER OF JUDAH, PRIVATE! YOU LOOK LIKE A MORTUARY ASSISTANT BATHED IN BLEACH!” He announces. You have no idea if that was a compliment or not. It’s hard to tell. Soldier then quickly assumes you’re a weird offshoot of the hippie culture and you’re here to sell him weed. Aaahh there it is. Blissful stupid ignorance.

- After promptly explaining what you are, he nods slowly. Slapping you on the back heartily. “ALRIGHT PRIVATE! You’re clear. Didn’t know there was such thing as a goth.. Hippies sure are getting creative.” Idiot. Complete moron. Still thinks you’re a weird looking hippie. Just one who won’t sell him weed nor harbor the evil tendencies of one. What are these evil tendencies he speaks of? He can’t answer you.

——————————————————————-

Demoman:

- Ignores you completely. You’re just another person to him with their own preferences in attire. This guy still gets stares in the supermarket for being a massive black dude. He knows what it’s like to stand out, explosively. Get it?

- Well.. At first he ignores you. But if you insist on wearing your style on the battlefield he’ll be a little impressed to say the least. Demoman likes confidence. He whistles to get your attention from the backlines and raises a drink to you. “Keep at it! Show ‘em with your damned fangs! Maul those wee willy fucks straight to the—“ He gets hit by a train mid taunt. You stare blankly at the sight. Deadass no clue how to respond. You’re in awe at his lack of self preservation for one thing.

- Demoman is in the kitchen that night drinking god knows what brand of alcohol this time. He sees you and goes “AAAYY! There’s that crazy son of a betch wit’ the victorian thing goin on. Cheers to you.” He compliments. It’s not a heckle. It’s genuine admiration for your shamelessness. Being weird in that way is the easiest way to get on his good side.

——————————————————————-

Engineer:

- No response. Much like Demoman’s lack of response. Looks at you for maybe two seconds then looks away to avert any suspicions he’s trying to be rude. Calls you stupid nicknames like ‘ghost getter’ and “Weirdest display of caltholicsm he’s ever seen.’ …. Wait a second that last one wasn’t a nickname.

- You’ll rarely get any comments about the matter to him. He’s too busy with other stuff to make fun of something so particular. Especially something that doesn’t concern him. (Not to say he doesn’t love insulting people’s looks from time to time. But you’re a teammate! You’re on his side!) If you have a counterpart on the enemy team then by god he won’t hold back on the roasts. Everybody gets fuckin’ spat upon regardless of who they are. He makes fun of everybody equally.

- Asks you if his creations are nifty. For some reason he mistakes you with Steampunk full on old dad style because he’s “heard about ‘em darn tootin kids and their crazy fashion in the newspapers.” And thinks he’s somehow relating to you. That you have a common interest. You have to suppress your laugh here. Same energy as pokey-man. Cornflake’s confused but he has the spirit. The whole culture explained to him is when he starts fucking assuming you’re catholic by the way.

———————————————————-

Heavy:

- Concerned at first. “Who in your family is died..?” He asks after awkward silence on the bench. He has his eyebrow raised in intrigue. “Was it murder? Heavy will crush them for you.” He offers. He had good experiences with you beforehand so he has no reason not to offer such things. Heavy mistakes your attire for mourning attire.

- You sheepishly explain to this old dude why you were sporting full on black. Expecting a weird or strong response back. To your surprise he just shrugs and looks away again with a gruff “Hm.”

- He then looks at you again after a few more minutes and sluggishly asks you a barrage of typical old man questions when they don’t understand something dark and gritty. “So do you live in a big haunted mansion?” “Do you have some pet bats? Do you like scary music?” “What do you do as a hobby when you’re this?” And other things in broken english. Each answer seems to get through to him and make him either nod or shrug. He’s very cooperative and trying to understand. Seems to not like the idea of himself sporting such things and feels the need to mention that to you for some reason. Give this guy a makeover and he’ll begrudgingly cooperate.

——————————————————————

Pyro:

- Pyro gasps childishly when he sees you. Each little spot of black or dark hue on you is showing up the direct opposite in their point of view. You have rainbow hair, rainbow everything. They think you’re a candy princess/prince/monarch that’s come on a white stallion. They’re giddy with excitement and jump up and down. Clapping their hands.

- You’re throughly confused. But you figured it was because Pyro had never seen someone wear something like this before. “It’s goth, Pyro. You like it?” You ask. Pyro glomps you. Straight up fucking hug tackles you and spins you around like an unfortunate house cat who’s just been spotted in the street by a stranger.

- You’ve become the rainbow unicorn candy ruler of all imagination and happiness and you don’t know how or why but you accept your fate. Pyro has made you a throne out of candy wrappers and you feel guilty often if you don’t use it. You got to admit a lot of unnecessary work went into that thing. Same with the crown he provided you. (It’s an actual crown made of diamonds and you don’t wanna know where they got it.)

—————————————————————————

Sniper:

- You swear you just saw a shocked blush crawl across his face. But he looked away before you could take a good look behind those sunglasses of his. Sniper’s unironically attracted to the aesthetic on other people and he secretly thinks it’s a fine piece of art but isn’t willing to admit it. He always had a thing for edginess and overall darkness. Sniper listens pretty frequently to early rock on his camper’s radio and doesn’t shy away from the occasional greaser jacket.

- “Nice look, mate..” He says on one of his good days. He plays off as indifferent and nonchalant but you can tell he’s hiding his slight interest in being your friend. Every little attempt to ignore you reeks of ‘come get me.’ Sniper’s social ineptitude is just sad at this point. Eventually you just shake your head and smile lovingly and accept his stupid efforts. Your suspicions are eventually proven correct when he accepts a drink with you.

- Hyperfixates on you like you’re some sort of fucking anime character. Can’t get the way you express yourself out of his head. You’re the most colorful thing in this godforsaken desert and that says a lot because you wear black.

—————————————————————————

Medic:

- No. No. no. Anything but him. ANYTHING BUT HIM. DEAR GOD PLEASE!!

- Prepare to get bombarded by a tsunami of questions that extend into two hours. Medic cannot control his curiosity and at one point asks you multiple times if you’re a demon or something because of how excited he is. The others rarely see him act like a puppy this much. His evil autism is activated. Turn tail and run. He’s sort of bouncing on his heels. It kinda reminds you of Pyro.

- “Oohohohoho! What an extraordinary specimen! Your oddities will surely aid in my understanding of how psychology works! Here! Sign this paper that says you acknowledge any drugs I pump into you aren’t supported by the FDA!” He hands you a clipboard and bounces again wildly. His happiness is rather contagious and you blindly sign it because you’re too focused on his child like energy and how adorable it is. He’s like a teenage girl who’s seen her fucking idol for the first time. “You see our aesthetics and personal preferences for color appear quite differently from person to person and depending on how you grew up—!” He goes on a psychology rant.

—————————————————————————-

Spy:

- He’s judging you. It’s as clear as day. He’s walking around you and examining your attire with his hands behind his back. As if you were some prized show breed who was being accessed for the finals. He lifts an arm up, tsks when he sees the seams in your clothing and disappointedly glares at you. Then just straight up walks away. By far one of the weirdest responses you’ve ever gotten. But then again should you be surprised? Spy is a drama queen and all you needed to do was take one good look at him to know that.

- Next thing you know, you have an entire box full to the brim of more gothic clothes off to the side of your bed when you wake up the next day. There wasn’t any letter nor indication of who it was. Which rather indirectly told you who it was. All the clothing was super, super expensive and straight up unreachable in some way. You find it especially alarming how it’s basically an entire box of things you personally expressed wanting to the other guys but couldn’t obtain due to the price. You swore Spy wasn’t there during that time.

- Ugh.. Of course. It’s all clear to you now. He hated the state of your current clothing and to save his poor snobbish eyes he bought you an entire wardrobe of it, he even bothered making outfits folded nearly together and they made sense. Which made you hate him more.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #mod spy #medic x reader #spy x reader #demoman x reader #heavy x reader #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #sniper x reader #tf2 fanfiction

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intheshadowsbehindyou · 5 months

Note

Okay, so this request got inspired by your post of how the Mercs react to Y/N telling them they have PTSD. Not sure how the situations go but what about a hurt/comfort Mercs x Y/N when they unknowingly, or somehow, triggered Y/N’s trauma?

Y/N knows they didn’t mean it but it’s scares them because Y/N doesn’t breakdown like THAT. Y/N tells them it’s okay, although they are triggered they find comfort with the Mercs because they make them feel safe. Mercs just being there for them, listening, and like asks Y/N to let them know if they need anything.

(It’s not often I see these kinds of requests with x reader/y/n stuff, but your post did make me smile a bit as someone with PTSD)

I understand your point of view. Thank you, by the way. I feel very alone in my struggles and it’s nice to hear i’m not.

TF2 Mercs Scare Y/N With PTSD On Accident

Scout:

- Oh.. Fuck. Immediately goes into panic mode because he’s a very empathetic person. You can see it on his face as he struggles to hold it together. He knows freaking out will only make this worse. (He’s less stupid than you think.) Watching you cower and breathe heavily is breaking his heart. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned that name.

- “Hey, whoa whoa, whoa, hey hey, relax. It— It was a different person! I was talking about someone different!” He pauses, trying to deduct a possible solution. The fact you’re telling him it’s fine is making him angry at himself. Why would he recklessly slip up like that in front of somebody so important?! He wants you to beat him up. “No, No. You need to like — beat the shit out of me for that. Don’t ever settle for less in a person. Like, actually, beat the shit out of me.”

- This is definitely causing some stares. Scout rarely at all takes accountability for his actions because of how on the defense he is. Seeing this side of him is uncanny. Scout takes you by the shoulders and pulls you into a big hug. Your face immediately meeting his chest. When he was a child, his mother would give him physical affection to subdue his panic attacks. This is the first thing that came to mind.

- “Easy, easy. Alright? That stupid shit won’t ever happen to you again. Not while I’m here.” He whispers in your ear. Running his fingers through your hair. Somehow, he comes rightly by his mother. He even forces himself to steady his breathing on behalf of you. He knows you’ll calm down eventually.

——————————————————————————-

Soldier:

- All it took was one disagreement. One. Single. Sideye from Soldier and you suddenly got transported into the past unwarranted. Your breathing became shallow and you felt like passing out. The impending doom was indescribable. At first you wanted to lash out and attack him for this. But Soldier quickly tilted his helmet up in alarm upon seeing your unexpected reaction. You had to kneel down.

- “Private?” He asked. His voice was more higher pitched than usual. The sight of somebody he loved breaking into pieces like janga blocks all so suddenly was shocking. He was briefly scolded and slapped to death by Medic for triggering your PTSD before, and you didn’t want that for him again. “It’s fine— I’ts fine—“ You said. “No, it fucking isn’t.” He answers.

- “It isn’t fine that you’re feeling this way. I’m going to go into your ear and fix that damn hippo campus or whatever, so help me god.” He said, his eyes full of despair as he knelt down beside you to hesitantly place a hand on your back and rub you. His answer was so unbelievably stupid you almost snapped out of it.

- “I’m sorry for glaring.” He said, sort of laughing at his own pettiness and shaking his head. He truly felt like gutting himself. As i’ve mentioned, Soldier knows full well what PTSD is. The world war did numbers on his comrades’ mental health. He’s seen people completely crumble under the weight of tragedy. “Sometimes it’s just the little things, isn’t it? One moment you’re in the present, and the next moment you stand on the hills of the battlefield overlooking the bloodshed, and you wonder: where the hell did we go wrong?”

- You sort of calm down at his attempt to soothe you. Crawling onto his lap and shoving your face into his uniform. Soldier allowed you to do this. A distant and exhausted look in his eye as he defeatedly fell back against the wall. “Did you feel that way in the war?” You mutter to him. Wondering where his knowledge came from.

- Soldier was still holding his rocket launcher in the other hand. He turned it to the side to examine it for a second. “Eh…” He muttered back. Noting the blood on the handle that was spilt earlier on the frontlines. “I’m just one of those war dogs whose mental strength rivals Zeno of citium himself, I guess.” He said sarcastically.

____________________________________________

Demoman:

- Immediately tries to distract you from the horrible things you begin to relive. Shoves you into your quarters and locks the door. Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t have liked this, but he’s made it clear to give you your space. You sit on the edge of your bed, unsettled, whilst he peaks out the blinds of your window.

- “Datse’ sum wee ass birds sittin ow on the tree out there. Look at em, bloody fat roosters dey are.” He says, as you look away at the ground. He notices your lack of attention and sighs. Taking an abundance of alcohol into his mouth. “Hey look, ye wanna know sumthin?” He points his flask at you. “Lemme tell you sumthin about explosives.”

- “Once a landmine explodes, kablooey. Thatse it. No goin’ back. But yer brain ain’t like that.” He tells you, pointing at your head. Frustratingly, you roll your eyes “Why’d you bring me in here, Demoman? And — thanks but my fucking wounds are unfixable.” Your tone sounds more annoyed than you’d like it to be. But you couldn’t help it right now, you felt like your body was attacking itself.

- “NAH. You ain’t. y’know why?” He knocked on his own head with his flask. “See this thing er’? this thing can mend itself. Unlike an arm or leg. OR AN EYE.” He made sure to put emphasis on that last part for some reason as he spoke it to the ceiling. Tavish still kept his respectful distance as he paced around the room. “Isn’t that just my luck? Enough about dat, tho. Look at ye! Just look at ye! You’re here. Despite those aforementioned metaphorical landmines goin off! Isn’t that crazy? There’s so much space in between what happened and whatse to come. Dont be impatient with yerself. I’ll follow you through this dense forest. Okay? You go there and then you’re there, and once you’re there, you’re there and then you’re there. Y’know? I’ll get you there.” He’s clearly drunk but this somehow helped. You watch him clear his throat and unsteadily sit down in a chair. Sitting in silence with you.

—————————————————————————

Engineer:

- Engineer is an adult. He has (mostly) mastered the art of keeping calm on behalf of a panicking person’s sake. “Hey now…” You hear that thick, creamy drawl behind you. What had triggered you was a loud noise in the server room followed by the crashing of metal echoing off the walls. Engineer happened to be nearby. “That was all me, sorry for the scare pardner.” He tilts his hard hat in respect. He must’ve heard your yelp.

- As you sat cowering against those old computers, tears flooding down your cheeks, Engineer approached you like he would an injured stray kitten. Slowly kneeling down, a refusal to make any sudden movements. His wrench in the other hand had a dent in the adjustable jaw. “Was tryin’ to tinker with somethin’ and some shit fell onto the grating. Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you.” He said. Tilting your chin up to admire your face. Even as you were caked in tears and sweat, he still found profound beauty in this.

- He was making an effort to lie. The wrench had traces of dark red blood on it. Your eyes peaked over his shoulder and you caught a glimpse of an enemy spy’s shoes just behind the mess of computers. Engineer was a good liar. If it weren’t for the dead spy beyond him then you would’ve believed his comforting lie. It wasn’t the spy you were scared of though.. The noise did it all. “Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you.” He whispered again. “It’s alllllll in the past.”

- voooooOoshh. Yeah, figures :/

- “Would you excuse me for a sec, darlin?” He planted a kiss on your forehead, whipping around as he stood up and bitch slapped that same enemy spy with his wrench. Watching him slam against the machinery and lie bleeding on the ground. “Dead ringer, seriously?” He asked. “je te déteste.” (I fucking hate you.) The enemy spy choked out. You felt slightly better afterwards. Knowing Engineer would be able to protect you before anything could truly occur.

—————————————————————————

Heavy:

- Offers to beat the shit out of anybody who triggers your ptsd. TO DEATH. He comes pretty close to doing so a bunch of times. Scout had unintentionally done this and he couldn’t walk for a week afterwards. Heavy was pretty certain he crushed some of his spine. So imagine his dismay when your vacant eyes couldn’t leave a poster on his wall. He knew that stare anywhere — in fact — he had that disconnected stare before.

- Heavy snapped you out of your momentary dissociation by ripping the poster down and crumbling it up. “Heavy did not like that book anyway…” He said, frowning as he threw it away in the trash bin next to his bed. “Come. Do not look at things that remind you. Not good for health.” He beckoned his large hand over to his bed and you laid down next to him. Instinctively cuddling into his chest to try and even out your breathing, But your agony was evident. He could feel your heart practically bursting out of your chest.

- “fetal position.” He instructed you. You did so, hugging your entire body. It was then he took you into his arms and applied light pressure. He had learnt to do this from a Russian psychology paper. Your pain was quickly dying down after this. Who knew being squished to death would help so much? The lingering feelings of dread would remove themselves from you in record time. Normally it would be hours or even days. Every time this happens, he’ll use pressure therapy to aid you.

- If you dislike that type of stuff, he’ll read you a children’s book. For some reason those always helped him. Maybe even take you into the main lobby area to sit down with the boys and listen to their conversation. The white noise of their stupid conversations is distracting, and the presence of friends is always comforting.

——————————————————————————

Pyro:

- :((((((((((((( Looks completely fucking devastated.

- They’re quite reasonable. Immediately asks you what triggered you, and how they can keep you away from it. They’re patient and observant. Especially if you’re incapable of answering them. Their senses will eventually find the object, smell, or word, etc that had caused this in the first place. Silence to Pyro is always louder than words. They make quick work of the issue.

- They tell everybody on the team about this. (Which takes a while by the way because nobody can fucking understand them.) And go into huge detail about why they shouldn’t have/say certain things around you. Nobody’s allowed to rudely question them or else somebody’s belongings are going up in flames.

- Speaking of setting people on fire.. People aren’t allowed to call you a faker either. This happens way too often. How stupid can people truly get? Said people go missing after a week or so and the Tuefort police can never find the body. Every time this happens, you know who to blame. For some reason you also find out later down the line that several power classes were working in cooperation with Pyro’s murders. Thanks guys.

- If present in their room, they’ll bring a bunch of their plushies over to you and cover you in blankets. Watching old kid’s movies with you to make you feel better. This especially works well if you sfw age regress to cope with ptsd. Will 100% be your caregiver.

—————————————————————————-

Sniper:

- God dammit fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck why didn’t he just shut his big mouth and die god dammit fuck fuck fuck he wants to die FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK NOOO WHY DID YOU GO SILENT

- It was the way he said something that got you. It sounded too familar to you-know-whatsit. You were in his sniper nest when this happened. He took his eye from the scope to see you on the floor holding your chest and trying in vain to control the breathing issues you were encountering. “SsShit!” He hissed angrily at himself, getting up and sitting next to you on the floor. He didn’t even make a move to touch you. He knew how horrible things could feel in moments like these. It wasn’t until you returned the favor by leaning your head against him did he put his arm around you.

- “Sniper, I feel like throwing up..” You say, nausea symptoms setting in. He didn’t have any medicine with him other than painkillers, so he made room for you to lay your head on his lap. Putting his hand on your head. “Easy now. This’ll pass.” He whispered. It was moreso his crazy low voice that began calming you down. Jesus christ he was trying so hard not to blame himself right now.

- He was right though. It was important to believe him. This’ll pass too. It always does. You weren’t in that horrid space right now and the nest was dead silent minus the chirping of song birds outside. He remained on guard the entire time you rested on him. His eyes looking at the door, then the hole he peeped his gun through, then the door again.

- He said nothing the entire time. What was there to say? Your past had been eroded. He had no excuses nor complaints. Not even a single question. Sniper was purposefully making himself soundless to aid your recovery process. Every so often when you twitched, and started breathing heavier than normal, he’d rub your scalp in response. This is how he comforts you during a flashback most of the time. Allowing you the bliss of silence and touch.

—————————————————————————-

Medic:

- HUH???? Wait a second.. fast breathing, wanting to self harm, panicking like you were about to die, and other familiar symptoms? Oh. He knew right away what this was. Time to make sure.

- You were screaming in the corner of his lab, cowering and on the verge of pissing yourself. It was awful. It was god awful. Probably the worst one you’ve had this year. Heart palpitations and all. Your vision was blurry and you couldn’t focus. Medic knelt down in front of you with an incredibly serious expression across his face. Lifting his finger up and watching you — or at least you trying — to follow it. Some other mercs were nearby watching this go down in slight horror. They had no clue what you struggled with or why you were acting like this. You felt like you were surrounded by a bunch of idiots once again who were too stupid to fathom your experiences.

- “What’s wrong with Y/N, Doc?” Soldier asked. He had the faintest idea of what it was but he didn’t want to assume. “Hm.” Medic answered bluntly in response. He didn’t even look at soldier as he dismissed everybody with the aggressive shooing of his hand. Waiting until everybody left to talk to you.

- He took you gently by the shoulders. “Y/N, look at me.” He instructed. You thrashed a bit and struggled to do so. It was hard to not feel intimidated by all this. “The year is 1971. You’re you. You’re here. The stuff that happened, it happened a long time ago.” He said. When it didn’t ground you enough he made you repeat your age, and the date.

- “It’ll happen again!” You exclaim, “It’s happening again!” You scream in retaliation. Medic shook his head calmly. “No, it is not happening again. You have a brain injury mien schatz—“ He was cut off by your terrified yelling. You clung to him for dear life and desperation and he clung back just as hard. He was kind of thankful nobody was here to witness this.

- He only pulls away to take a deep breath and you instinctively mimicked him, holding it for a few seconds as he counted and then let go. You synced up your breathing with his and after what seemed like forever, the repeated breathing exercises were slightly helping. He had his latex glove on your chest the hold time to make sure you were doing it. Weakness took over you and you threw yourself into another hug. Wanting to be carried by him.

——————————————————————————-

Spy:

- Spy has flashbacks too but they’re less aggressive than yours. He had trained himself to stay composed by suppressing it, and he’d rather not make the same mistake with you. For a spilt second, one could easily mistake his stoic posture as you cried there in his chair as complete indifference. But he felt things far from that. You had dumped all this stuff onto him out of nowhere upon entering his quarters because you were sick of being quiet. It boiled over then and there like a volcano.

- “Hmph.. So it seems once again someone has been failed by a worthless system. Pour l'amour de Dieu.” (For god’s sake.) He angrily snuffed out his cigarette in his ash tray. Crushing it for good measures. His righteous anger was filling the entire room with dread. Spy wasn’t pleasant when he was mad. You made your posture smaller in an attempt to look innocent. You did not want to face his wrath.

- “What is this?” He asked you curiously. “It is not you I am angry at. It is the inept incompetence of those around you.” He sat in his chair adjacent from you. He wanted better for you. So much better. After a moment of silence and Spy rubbing his temples he finally spoke. “I have learnt.. Many languages. In none of them do I have the words for just how angry I am that you suffer this way.” He admitted. Looking at his gloved hands. It was rare he was so vulnerable like this, so it immediately peaked your interest in-between sobs.

- “Perhaps words aren’t enough to describe how even you feel. Yes?” He asked. You were trying to nod in response but you couldn’t focus hard enough to do so. The pain was too much. There was a look in Spy’s eye that suggested he knew that. “Come sit on my lap, let me lull you to sleep.” He offered, holding his arms out.

#tw ptsd #cptsd #tf2 #team fortress 2 #medic x reader #spy x reader #demoman x reader #heavy x reader #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #sniper x reader #mod spy #pyro x reader

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