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intheshadowsbehindyou · 2 months

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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?

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.)

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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.

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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.

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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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