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kingqueensoobscene · 2 days ago

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Hii, can you do a Blu Scout (Lil Pootis) x FEM Reader Shy and insecure reader (outside of his line of work as a mercenary)? (❛◡❛)✿

I would really like to see that interaction

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK HALF A YEAR. I don’t know what happened :3

I made this more fem centric and it’s SUPER long. Not all my requests will be like that, however I did this cuz I felt bad :3

LIL POOTIS!BLU SCOUT X INSECURE!READER

-The Blu base is tucked away from any towns within even a couple mile radius, which is much more isolated than the Red base. Civilian life was kept out of the chaos of the gravel wars, far from the city. So he can’t meet with you as much as he would like, which does not help with your insecurities. Since Lil Pootis takes place in the early 1970s, I feel like he would make it a habit to try and call you on the telephone often. He could spend a couple hours on the shared phone in the common room. It annoys the hell out of Sniper, but Scout couldn’t care less.

-Scout is bad at noticing how someone else feels or at the very least, how to help you when it comes to emotions. You have to tell him how you feel upfront. He does his best to try and make you feel better. Asking you about what is wrong and trying his best to reassure you. If you tell him how you truly feel or how you feel like you don’t deserve him, he gets really shocked. His heart sinks a little when you tell him that you have always felt like this. He tried to play it off by doing something really clingy. Like a long smooch on the forehead with a “mwah!” before he lets go. That’s another one of his love languages; doing a really cheesy, exaggerated gestures (like flicking your cheek and then kissing your lips when you turn your head, which he misses half the time) and then laughing at how dumb that was. It’s his way of saying “Hey, I don’t think you’re stupid because I do stupider stuff all the time”.

-However if you start crying, Scout does not know what to do. Seeing you cry over your insecurities shows him how badly they have been affecting you and how he was kind of negligent in seeing that. He just awkwardly rubs the back of your head as you cried into your hands. Then slowly guide you to his collarbone. He would just hold you in his arms until you calmed yourself or you got tuckered out. Scout is not overly affectionate, most of the time you initiate physical touch, but he is trying to help you. He isn’t the best at reassuring others, but he will deny any of your claims that you are not pretty.

- He is a guy who likes his alone time, so you being one of the few people outside of his family and the other mercenaries he likes being around alone speaks volumes. He is always making an excuse for you two to just do something, no matter what it is. It’s a subtle reminder that you got nothing to worry about since he wants you stick around. Though, you two live quite a distance from each other. When there was free time during the night or if he had the day off the next morning, he drove down to your home and kept you company.

-Most of the time, you two don’t really have any “dates”. Scout comes over, you cuddle or relax with him. Make dinner (he can make an amazing soup. I know he doesn’t look like it, but he can. He’s just gotta be in the mood to cook.) and watch a movie. Or you take a night drive together while listening to your favorite music. Whether he knows how much of a reserved person you are or not, this works out perfectly for you as you get to stay in with him in a more intimate setting and he gets to do something somewhat domestic with you. When he is in a good spot financially, he wants to move in with you. He’s 30, so he would like to do that sooner rather than later.

-As I have said before, he likes being alone with you, no matter the circumstance. He can be intimidating when he needs to be (which scares the shit out of the Red Scout whenever he encounters him). But all of that dissolves when he is around his family or you. They might not always get along, but Spy cares about his son and is the reason he has a good job in the first place. Scout likes to have a beer or two with his dad. He loosens up and starts to go on about what he did that day or what he has been into lately. Cracking jokes at Sniper when he is super high or trying (and failing) to shotgun a beer to show off. Tension lessens and he seems so much happier.

-However, if you are shy even with him, Scout would love the fact that you are the more silent type. He prefers someone who will be with him while he quietly reads or watches TV. Usually being in his lonesome while he did mundane things, he likes when you keep him company because you quietly decompress as well. A thing he will never admit he likes is when you are snug against his chest while he is doing something and you fall asleep. As random as it sounds, his dad used to lull him to sleep by coddling him to his chest when he was a baby, so Scout loves the sounds of breathing to fall asleep to.

-While most of your hangouts wouldn’t be considered dates, you two have an actual, planned date night once every couple of weeks when your schedules match. Sometimes you go into town, sometimes you complain about life while having drinks together. This time, Scout wanted you to come over to the base, despite how much he complains about how there’s really nothing to do there. Your relationship was pretty serious, so he figured it was a good time to introduce you into his personal life. Plus, he wanted his co-workers, which included his dad, to meet that cute girl/guy he was talking to for hours on end. Politely, you agreed, despite how you felt about meeting new people.

The sleek black shell of the AMC Sedan reflected against the deep winter sky. The naugahyde was permanently infused with the smell of Marlboros. The snare of the heater rose up from your feet to your chest. Jerry Lee Lewis sang loud under the soft volume he kept it at. You looked off into the barren fields of white, trying to distract yourself with other thoughts. Specks of white flew in and out of the black field beyond the lone road, swirling and spinning. If you were just nervous at the thought of meeting the team, it only got worse once you realized they were professional(?) killers. Scout has bragged about his job; about how he was good at running and shooting or how he messes with the Red Soldier (who wants Scout’s head on a stick). Hell, you didn’t really know what his job was and what it was for! Just that they were fighting in some war and they were not allowed to call each other by their real names. Which is why you could only refer to him as “Scout”. How could you not be a little intimidated? What got to you the most was that you would be meeting his father. You had not the slightest clue as to how this might go and you weren’t really told much about him. What if he was against your relationship? What if he didn’t like you? Those thoughts were shaken as you felt a pinch through your jacket. You yelped out an “ow!” and looked at the culprit. Scout chuckled. When he noticed you were not laughing with him, he asked what was wrong. It was not hard to notice your silence when you were more talkative with him than anyone else. You brushed it off, giving him a small smile. There was a pause before he cut down and asked if you rather he take you back to town or your home. Reassurance fell from your lips as soon as he finished his sentence. You did want to go, but you also feared what could happen. The denial kept its face high. But like any other Scout, he was way more annoying than you were. And he was determined to pester you until finally, you told him. You were nervous, no doubt. Awkward grimaces hid from each other when you turned away from him again. Now he just felt bad for pressuring an answer out of you. It was his turn to reassure you and he told you that you didn’t have to stay for long or at all, if you did not want to. His words made you feel better. And you told him that. Scout would be there, it’s not like you were going into this alone. He drove on.

Through the windshield, you saw two concrete structures erected from underneath the ground on each side of a half circle building. Other tall structures stuck out like stalagmites within the walls of the base. Words above the double doors read:

BLU

Out of the car door, out of the warmth, you felt the blistering winds. You managed to shut the car door without slamming it too hard, despite the pressure from the wind. Scout trudged through the inches of pale and shouted for you to come along. The iron door painted a monotonously somber gray and Scout pushed it open. The walls were a monotone, light blue, while paneling on the bottom was an aegean. You tapped your shoes against the black carpet. Snow crumbled off. You looked up at the end of the hallway. Two other hallways spilt at the center wall. The yellow posters to the right had two displays, one of a soldier launching himself into the air from the use of a rocket launcher. In black, bolded print that said:

BETTER DEAD THAN RED! ENLIST NOW.

The other was a poster was of rules for the “BLU TEAM”. Some were reasonable, some were unorthodox. When you looked back, Scout nodded at you to come along. Your eyes were fixated on your shoes that squeaked along the concrete flooring. And Scout noticed.

Every hallway looked the same, save for the occasional alarm bell. The only thing that looked different so far was the open door on your right. It was dark with some lighting shining through. As you passed, you squinted and saw televisions stacked in rows, screens above a control panel. A silhouette stood straight center of the grid of cameras and, as if he knew you were looking, he turned around. Arms crossed with a stern face. Desperately, you looked at everything else, but him.

The man came out from the shadows and into the fluorescent lights. A grey vest over his baby blue clothes. His scowl seemed glued permanently on. Asking Scout why he brought a civilian to the fort in a thick, Scottish accent. You made sure to be an arms length from Scout, who knows what would happen if someone assumed you were an intruder. Scout smirked slightly and asked why wouldn’t he bring his girl/boy to meet the others?

In a heartbeat, the corners of the man’s lips widened. The blend of strict and laidback in this man gave you whiplash. An immediate handshake physically shook you out of your shock. He smiled and said to call him the Demoman. No real name or nothing. It was still kind of strange to call someone by a title rather than name ever since you and Scout actually started talking. But regardless, you gave a small smile back. Then, his gaze went back to Scout’s and he said he didn’t care. In fact, Demoman seemed kind of happy to have another person at the base other than the rest of the team.

Scout’s hand slid along the wall until you reached the push door back into the cold. He looked back at you and asked if you were ok. You nodded.

You followed beside him as you trudged through the cleared out path. Along the way, you passed broken piles and brutalistic structures along the way, soaked in snow. Some of the windows were boarded up. The path lead to a monotone building with a depleting wooden roof slanted down into the ground. Scout pulled at the similarly colored door, but to no avail. He let out a grunt when he pulled at it again and it opened this time, taking off some frost with it. You hurried in and carefully walked down the stairs.

The area below the surface seemed more lively than the last building with miscellaneously placed plants and more flyers posted around. Horribly made scribbles of trees and birds were along the wall to your immediate right. The quality of the sketches were the same as a child with a fresh pack of crayons. You passed by rooms of different kinds; a washroom, storage, what looked to be a training room. What was Scout’s job exactly?

You kept your mouth shut. It was probably better you didn’t ask questions. But then again, you were already here. Before you could even ask, time passed quicker than you thought. You weren’t in the hallway anymore and Scout was setting his stuff down on his bed and talking to someone in a new room. Weed was pungent, filling the space that was already occupied by a bunk bed on either side of the back end of the room, a tv and two bean bags. A tv faced both of them, scribbled paper taped on the wall. The same kind of drawings you saw scribbled on the wall. Scout’s hand touched your shoulder as if to beckon you over. A brown joint was lit at the lips of the tan male in front of you. His attire was a blue button up and some dark pants. He looked older, combining the fact that he had a 5 o’clock shadow and some gray in his hair. His bunk wall held an Australian flag and a rifle was on his bed. Despite his nature, he seemed friendly enough.

After you were introduced, the man said in a deep-toned voice, how it was nice to finally meet you.

This must’ve been the Sniper that Scout told you about. That sentiment slightly relaxed you. You stood next to Scout, introducing yourself properly. He gave you a smile, shaking your hand more firm and less aggressive than Demoman did. Suddenly, a masked figure swung upside down from the bed above, muffling a “boo!”. You yelped and stepped back. This person adorned a gas mask along with what looked like a hazmat suit and a hat. The tan male laughed. You take back everything you said.

Scout ran a hand down his face, looking exasperated, before punching Sniper’s arm. The person, still facing you upside down, waved at you. Looking at you through reflective, black plastic over their eyes. Hesitantly, you waved back. Their faded beanie was slowly falling off their head. You caught it before handing it back to them. They mumbled what sounded like a “Thank you!”. Meanwhile, Scout was still annoyed at Sniper for making “Pyro” scare his date like that. You smiled at the assumed man in the mask. They tilted their head. Sniper laughed off an apology and said he heard that you were a timid one, so he couldn’t help himself.

A squeak came from behind you. Puzzled, you looked to Pyro. Their gloved hand pointed to the top of Scout’s bunk. It was an empty space with no blankets or sheet on the mattress. Just a lone, chubby, yellow bird. It squeaked again. Pyro exclaimed shaking his arms at Scout. Subtly, Scout rolled his eyes and went around to the front of the bunk to climb the steel ladder. That’s when you got a good look at his space. Hung up with some baseball posters and his old jersey from when he played back home with old friends, some books and papers scattered on the floor around the bed and crate he used for a night stand. Then you saw the photos: His childhood pictures, ones with his teammates and some of you. You smiled. It’s normal to keep photos of your partner, you had some of Scout at your place, however it was still a sweet sentiment. The marked date was a week or so ago, so Scout was just starting to make it more official to the others. Then there was the photos of his mom and who you assumed was his dad. A black mask over his face. Holding baby Scout next to his mother. Your worries that went away just came right back. A small squawk came again from the chubby bird. Scout held him out in front of you.

You declined his offer to hold the bird, however, you gave Blootis, as you come to find out his name was, a small tug at the cheek. A soft knock at the door caught everyone’s attention. A rather tall, but stout man was at the door. He took off his yellow earmuffs, but he kept his had on. He had a soft smile on his face. Blootis jumped down, waddling over. The small bird jumped up onto the man’s shoulder. Scout scoffed at how Blootis made an effort to climb up onto Heavy, but not him.

Scout rubbed his eyes before asking where his dad was. They were at the fire pit outside the infirmary, according to Sniper.

Scout lightened up even more. He said he had an idea before grabbing something from the inside of his nightstand. Chocolate bars, a box of graham crackers and a tied bag of marshmallows. On the side next to his bed were two pokers. He smiled as he walked past you, urging you to follow.

After asking if you could hold some of the ingredients, you both made your way to the Medical hall. Walking back up to the surface and following Scout to another concrete block. He said they should be in the back end of the building, which you couldn’t walk outside to due to the snow piles. He pushed the door open with one hand for you to shuffle in. After you stomped your boots against the ground, Scout quickly walked past you with a dopey smile on his face. Down the pale corridors into another palleted, blue room. A large, silver sign above mustard yellow, plastic chairs indicated you were in the medical hall. It smelled like dust and window cleaner. Two doors were adjacent to each other and the right side door was the push exit.

A slow, drawn creaking pulled your eyes back to the infirmary door and you were met with a set of grey eyes through clean lenses. His stare was deep. They almost looked like cataracts if it weren’t for his dark pupils. A tousle of jet black hair popped out of his slicked-back hair. His white coat clung to his broad frame. Everything about him screamed wrong. But Scout only smiled wide and asked “Doc” how he was doing.

The man gave the smallest smile you had ever seen. You were still a little uncertain. Everyone here was off so far, yet charming in their own way. The doctor greeted him back. Then another person gurgled out a “Hey Scout!”.

Out walked a slightly shorter, beefier man, drinking water with a Red Cross on it. He wiped his chin with the sleeve of his disheveled jacket. A black ammo belt tied around his waist. The kitchen pot on his head moved slightly when he did, revealing his narrowed eyes. As stiff as a board, he pointed at you. Demanding an answer as to who you were, marching forward until his finger hit your chest. Your feet nearly slipped when you tried to back away. Words barely came out of your dry throat, trying to swallow back some courage. Scout sighed before saying to “Soldier” that you were his date. Soldier stopped, finger still on your chest and looking between you and your boyfriend.

The bulky man laughed. Pretty boy got a date, he said. The doctor continued his stare. Scout rolled his eyes. Brushing off the insult and asked if Engie and his dad were still out there. Medic’s nod was slow, but it was enough for confirmation. You smiled back at the Medic. Not at Soldier though.

Silhouetted by the soft glow of the flickering fire, the backs of two men faced you. The larger man laid his head on the shoulder of the more bony figure. Turning to look at you, Scout handed you the bag of marshmallows and the fire pokers. Treading lightly, leaving quiet imprints in the snow as you gingerly follow after him, trying to be silent as well. Once he got close enough, he stopped. And stood behind them.

Then he gripped the bonier man’s shoulders and yelled. The man yelped, looking up only to see his son. His stepdad jolted up instantly. Scout wrapped his arms around his dad and snorted at the two of them. You could make out some French being spoken between them before laughter. The man with a blue hoodie and overalls on put his hand over his chest and sighed in relief. All was calm for a moment. Then the man in the overalls noticed you behind Scout. His eyes squinted at you, wiping his forehead. You nodded over to your boyfriend as to say “I’m with him”.

Then he smiled. You must be Scout’s new partner. Gingerly, you shook his hand. A round face and gentle blue eyes met you. Radiating against the endless winter surrounding. You said your name. He said his before encouraging you to sit down. Circling to the log on a the other side and setting down the weight in your hands. Your hands felt the warmth from the flickering wood. That’s when you realized you probably should’ve sat next to Del. On your left was the man you were so scared to meet. A balaclava adorned the man’s sharply chiseled face. The deep navy of the fabric was softened by the firelight. Save for the smile on his face, the mask left a feeling of condescension that made your throat dry. The log shifted and Scout was right next to you, giddy like a schoolgirl. His brown eyes glittered. His face was a tint of pink across his freckles, and you don’t think it came from just the cold alone. He quickly opened the bag of marshmallows up and stuck two on the poker.

After telling Scout how you would like your marshmallow roasted, you looked back at his father. The Spy. That was his job. He was an agent of God only knows and yet, he still had a loving family. His suit, though roughened up, looked as if it was expensive. His hands adorned gloves made of leather. He slipped off one of them. Callouses roughened his palm and the tips of his slim, tan fingers. His handshake was firm. On the other hand, your hold was sweaty and tight.

You heard a chuckle.

Your gaze tore from your hands to his eyes. He put his other hand over yours. Relax. He said he could tell you were nervous.

His transparency was enough to coax you a little. And you had to admit to him, you were. You pulled your hands away.

For a moment, it was just bantering between Scout and Engie and the cackling of the fire. Then, Spy spoke again.

When he heard about you, he thought it was kind of funny Scout was dating someone who was quieter than he is. But, he was happy his son found someone. I mean, bringing you to the base was all he talked about for the past week!

You shared a laugh.

Spy sighed. Then said if you were worried about him, don’t. He already liked you.

You felt two pats on your back before his hands slid off again. You smiled at him.

Scout yelled for you.

Your s’more was done!

#tf2 scout #team fortress 2 #team fortress scout #scout x reader #tf2 scout x reader #blu scout #lil pootis #scout #lil pootis x reader #lil pootis blu scout

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kingqueensoobscene · 19 days ago

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I don’t know if your still taking Emesis Blue requests, but would love to see a story with that Mutated Scout thing. Maybe like a Yandere one where it’s stalking the reader while there exploring the slaughter house. Something spooky idk 😋

Sure thing Anon! Sorry about the really long, long, loooonnng wait.

warnings: mild gore, swearing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Only One Left

The slaughterhouse greets you with silence—dense, oppressive, the kind that hums in your bones. Each step falls heavy, sneakers tapping against stained concrete, a sharp contrast to the stillness. Only your breath and the occasional groan of warped steel accompany you.

You can’t recall how the trail led here. Only that a letter—plain, forgettable—slid under your door that morning. A promise whispered between its lines: answers. Fool’s bait. And now, this place. A ruin reeking of iron and old death. Blood hangs in the air like fog, sweet and rot-thick.

Your grip tightens around the flashlight. Its beam barely pierces the dark, but it’s all you’ve got. The door behind you creaks—then slams shut. A shiver races up your spine.

Alone. At least, that’s what you pretend.

“This is bullshit,” slips from your lips, too soft to be brave.

That’s the lie you wrap around yourself like a coat.

You press forward through a corridor of rusted meat hooks and shattered tile, their surfaces slick with things you don’t name. Then—movement. Skittering. Not small. Not distant. Sharp and fast like claws on tile.

A cry cuts through the dark. Nasal. Grating. Wounded. Human—but not quite.

You hesitate, and the silence rushes back in like water filling a grave. No breeze. No light, except that sickly cone of yellow in your hand. Walls slick with ancient blood breathe around you. The floor squelches underfoot. The walls weep something dark. You try not to look too closely.

You're not meant to be here. But something called you anyway.

A story, maybe. A whisper passed between frightened lips: They went in. None came out. And now—here you are, walking their bones.

Hooks swing lazily on dead air. One locker door yawns open nearby, streaked with something brown and flaking. A mirror inside—shattered—offers back a warped reflection: a face drawn tight with dread. Tired. Pale. Not quite yours anymore.

You don’t linger.

Past another hallway, words scrawled across peeling paint: "YoU LOVEd ME" The letters drip, their meaning crawling under your skin. The words twitch at the edges of your mind. You try to place them, but they slip from your grasp like dreams on waking.

Someone’s eyes are on you. You feel them. You spin—nothing. But it’s colder now. The dark feels heavier.

You quicken your pace.

Then— A voice.

Thick and wrong, warped like sound dragged through water. It seeps from the vents, low and intimate, like something exhaling against your ear.

“I watched you sleep… You smiled once. At me... I think.” “They screamed. You didn’t. You saw me.” “That’s why you’re mine.”

A broken laugh trails the words, sharp with glee. Something scrapes along

Then the voice returns, closer now. Slow and sticky.

“I remember how you smelled when you were scared.”

Pause.

“You looked at me like you knew me. Maybe you did.”

Instinct overrides reason. Muscles scream as you sprint, breath ripping from your throat. Thoughts stutter—fragment before they form.

Just move. Run.

A door—corroded, half-eaten by rust—appears in your path. You slam it shut, throw the lock, and press your back to it as your lungs claw for air.

Silence.

Then... the scrape returns. Slow. Heavy. Deliberate.

You step back.

Something presses from the other side. Metal bends inward. A claw—blackened, twitching—sneaks through the seam, trembling with glee. Hungry.

Memory fractures like glass behind your eyes. Not memories that belong to you—but ones that wear your face.

A heavy door appears at the corridor’s end. You throw yourself through, slam it shut, and twist the lock. Your hands shake. Your throat burns.

BANG. The frame jumps.

BANG. The hinges scream.

Then— The door gives way.

Something presses from the other side. Metal bends inward. A claw—blackened, twitching—sneaks through the seam, trembling with glee. Hungry.

Memory fractures like glass behind your eyes. Not memories that belong to you—but ones that wear your face.

And he enters.

Its shadow trembles, showing that it’s excited to be near you again.

Tall. Bent. A thing once shaped like a man. Now too much—too stretched. Skin peels in thin sheets from muscle that twitches in anticipation. Teeth too numerous. Eyes too bright. His grin spreads far enough to hurt.

A crooked figure spills through—limbs too long, twitching in spasms. Flesh sloughs from bone, revealing muscle slick and twitching beneath. His grin—jagged, forced—cuts deep into cheeks. The eyes, pale and glossy, fixate on you with childlike wonder. And something else. Possession.

His ribs stretch against thin skin like prison bars barely holding something in.

He steps closer. His voice comes softly. Almost gentle.

“I saved this place for us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I know that the monster Scout can't talk. But I felt that I needed to add something to make him easier story wise to write. I hope that's okay!

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