TF2 One Shots (Requests Closed)

Masks (Medic x Reader smut)

Not really requested by anyone, I just wanted to do this. But I promise all the remaining requests will be finished up. This is smut, but it does have plot so if the nasty isn't your cup of tea, you can read until the plot finishes and I'll warn before smut starts. You're a pyro in this who's afraid of taking the mask and suit off. Enjoy!

"Well everything seems to be in order height and weight wise," Medic said, pushing his glasses up. "I did subtract a couple hundred pounds from your weight measurement on account of your suit and equipment though," he added, chuckling softly.

You didn't have the heart to do your normal giggle alongside the Medic. Dimly, from your seat on his examination table, you stared up at the man who was your friend, but now seemed terrifying in his natural element of his infirmary.

Medic set his clipboard on the table and came closer. "Now ____"

You cut him off by holding up a gloved hand. Examinations were bad on their own, but the added anxiety of showing your face made you tremble. You didn't even want Medic to finish his sentence; the request to reveal yourself put into words would just cause more fear. You started with the easiest thing, the boots. It was hard to do with your entire body shaking in nervousness, but you raised their right foot up and began to fumble with the laces.

"Do you need any help?" Medic asked, a sympathetic look on his face. The German took no pleasure in causing you fear but he didn't know what to do to alleviate your anxiety. He'd talked to you beforehand and made sure you knew that whatever was under the mask- and in their pants- would remain confidential. He gave you a warm smile to sooth you and came a bit closer.

You shook your head at the offer, wanting to be touched as little as possible. Your hands moved down the boot, eventually undoing the laces and sliding it off to reveal a foot clad in a thick black sock. Putting off showing skin as long as possible, you left the sock and moved to the other foot, beginning to mess with the laces. Medic watched but occasionally looked away, focusing on his birds or one of the walls, not wanting to seem like he was staring at his friend.

You worked slowly, eventually managing to slip the other boot off. You then slowly got the sock off, foot shaking badly. The other sock came off, showing patches of scars on the top of the right foot. This was to be expected, you were in a warzone after all.

Medic couldn't help but sigh in relief. There had been rumors that Mann Co. hired something... not entirely human. But this skin suggested a person, like the doctor had envisioned. Though he had an "ideal" picture in his head, whatever was under that mask wouldn't break the friendship, and crush, that he'd formed. He'd promised that to both himself and you.

Next came the gloves. You slipped them off and set them on top of their boots revealing the same skin tone, the same scars.

Arsonist's hands, hands that'd gently stroked the doctor's doves. He remembered how at first he'd feared the you would do something horrible with those hands like pluck each feather off of his precious friends. Now he fully trusted you alone with the avians.
Hands that had gripped a flamethrower, hands that had clicked the lock into place on a barn to keep the victim inside as it burned, hands that cupped fire with the protection of gloves. Hands torn apart from war.

The equipment was next. In hindsight, you should've taken it off before Medic weighed you, but you were so distracted about the whole thing that they didn't even think about it. Subtract a couple hundred pounds. It was difficult to take it off, the loss of weight making you feel more exposed, but it also was a relief on your back, which you straightened and cracked. The straps, tank that was usually on you back, and the incendiary grenades were placed gently on the floor. Now for the hard part.