The Circus

Author’s Note: Don’t ask me how did a bunch of fans from the real world got into TF2. Just enjoy the chaos! 😂

The mercenaries had spent years believing they were nothing more than dangerous weirdos and professional killers.

If civilians ever saw them, they'd expect screaming. Running. Panic.

Instead, they would discover there were people who had voluntarily painted fan art of them, written thousands of stories about them, memorized every one of their voice lines, sewn plushies in their likeness, and were apparently willing to sprint across an active battlefield just to hug them.

That realization would prove far more psychologically devastating than any rocket or sticky bomb.

They knew how to handle bullets.

They had absolutely no idea how to handle being treated like celebrities.

It started during what should have been a completely ordinary mission. Which only made everything worse, because the mercenaries had absolutely zero context for what was about to happen.

"CHARGE!!" the RED Soldier roared, firing another rocket toward the enemy.

"CRY SOME MORE!" BLU Heavy bellowed with a booming laugh as Sasha continued chewing through ammunition.

Explosions shook the dusty Badlands. Bullets whizzed overhead. Pyro was enthusiastically setting something—and probably someone—on fire. Business as usual.

Then the battle was interrupted by a strange sound.

Scout paused halfway through reloading and squinted toward the horizon. "...D’ya guys hear screamin'?"

Medic stopped in the middle of healing Heavy, his eyes widening in alarm. "...Vas my latest experiment leaked to zhe public?!"

The sound grew louder.

Not battle cries. Not explosions. But high-pitched, excited, almost hysterical shrieking.

"OH MY GOD IT'S HIM!!"

"SCOUT!!"

"MEDIC MY HUSBAND!!"

"ENGINEER LOOK AT ME!!"

"SNIPER!! SNIPER!! SNIPER!!"

"...SPY JUST INSULT ME ONCE!!"

"I SEE PYRO!!"

Every mercenary slowly turned toward the horizon.

A massive cloud of dust was racing across the Badlands.

At first, they assumed it was buffalo. Then maybe a stampede of cattle. But as the cloud drew closer...

"...Are those people?" Engineer muttered when he saw hundreds if not thousands of girls.

They had seemingly appeared out of nowhere and were now charging across the battlefield at full speed with enough momentum to flatten anything unfortunate enough to stand in their way.

The firing gradually stopped as both RED and BLU alike simply lowered their weapons to stare.

The mercenaries exchanged bewildered looks. Except Soldier.

Soldier immediately assumed they're reinforcements. "AT LAST! My loyal army!"

No one had the heart to tell him otherwise.

Then a sizable chunk of the charging crowd suddenly peeled away from the main stampede. Like a school of fish changing direction, hundreds of fangirls pivoted in perfect unison.

Their collective cry echoed across the desert. "SCOOOOOOOOUUUUUUTTTTTT!!"

"...No..." Scout’s jaw slowly fell open as he realized every single one of them was sprinting directly toward him—the biggest, cockiest grin imaginable spread across his face. 

"No way. I KNEW IT!" He burst into laughter. "I KNEW I was da total package!"

Soldier blinked. "...What is happening?"

Scout ignored him completely.

"Oh, don't be jealous, grandpa." He adjusted his cap with exaggerated swagger before slicking back his hair. "Some guys just got it. I've been waitin' for dis moment my whole freakin' life!"

The girls were getting closer. Much closer.

Some were already crying. Several were jumping up and down. One girl actually fainted before she even reached him.

Scout practically vibrated with excitement.

"Oh yeah..." He puffed out his chest. "Dhis is it."

He threw both arms wide open, closed his eyes, and flashed the biggest smile of his life.

"C'mere, ladies!" He laughed triumphantly. "I got enough Scout for everybo—" WHAM!!

The first row slammed into him with the force of a runaway freight train.

Scout vanished. Instantly.

Completely swallowed by a tidal wave of screaming fangirls.

Medic stared in stunned silence. "...Did zhey..."

Heavy nodded gravely. "They flattened tiny man."

From somewhere beneath what had rapidly become a mountain of ecstatic fangirls, one of Scout's hands weakly emerged from the pile.

"MMPH! I CAN'T BREATHE!" His arm disappeared again. "I TAKE IT BACK! ONE AT A TIME!"

The shriek was immediately drowned out by hundreds of even louder shrieks.

Another wave of fangirls crashed into the pile with an even louder WHUMP!

Scout disappeared several feet deeper. "No, wait—! My ARM! WHO'S CRYIN' ON MY FACE?! I CAN'T FEEL MY LEGS!"

Spy calmly pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and watched the chaos unfold with detached amusement. "I have never witnessed karma arrive so quickly."

Engineer adjusted his goggles. "Boy wanted attention. He certainly got it."

Meanwhile, the girls talked over one another at machine-gun speed.

"HE'S SO CUTE!!"

"LOOK AT HIS FRECKLES!! SFM COULD NEVER BE THIS DETAILED!!"

"I TOUCHED HIS HAT!!"

"TAKE A SELFIE!!"

"I GOT HIS SHOE!!"

It was exactly the kind of confidence-to-immediate-regret timing that Scout specialized in.

He had spent his entire life insisting he was irresistible. So the one time it actually turned out to be true—it was far, far more than he had bargained for.

Scout's muffled voice emerged from somewhere deep within the pile. "GUYS!! HELP—"

Nobody moved.

Soldier folded his arms. "You wished for this, maggot."

Heavy nodded solemnly. "Heavy thinks Scout is living dream."

Medic adjusted his glasses. "I estimate another fifteen minutes before oxygen deprivation becomes concerning."

For about five glorious seconds, everyone is laughing at Scout.

Scout is still somewhere beneath the mountain of fangirls. "YA GUYS ARE DA WORST FRIENDS EVER!"

Demoman is doubled over, wheezing with laughter. "Hahahaha! Look at ye!"

Soldier points dramatically toward the squirming pile. "Observe, maggots! This is what happens when vanity consumes—"

A deafening chorus interrupts him. "SOLDIER!!"

Soldier blinks, then he grins proudly.

"Ah! My army has arrived!"He clasps his hands behind his back, standing as straight as a parade commander. "AT EASE, MAGGOTS!"

The girls reach him. WHUMP!!

Soldier vanishes beneath a dogpile so quickly that his boots are the last thing anyone sees.

"MOTHER OF—" His helmet rockets twenty feet into the air.

One fangirl catches it before it lands. "HE CALLED US HIS ARMY!!"

Another hugs him even tighter. "I'M BEING PROMOTED!"

Soldier's muffled scream echoes from somewhere underneath. "I DID NOT AUTHORIZE THIS MUCH AFFECTION!"

The laughter abruptly dies.

Every mercenary who had been enjoying Scout's suffering slowly looked back toward the ever-growing stampede.

The girls weren't stopping.

The realization spread through both teams at exactly the same time. The instant karma that had belonged solely to Scout suddenly became collective karma.

Another chorus erupted.

"HEAVY!!"

Heavy slowly turned. "...Da?"

"IT'S THE BIG MAN!!"

"HE LOOKS SO HUGGABLE IN PERSON!!"

The stampede hit him as dozens of girls launched themselves at him all at once.

Heavy barely moved. For about half a second.

Then thirty girls latched onto one arm.

Twenty more grabbed the other.

Someone climbed onto his back.

Another wrapped herself around his waist.

One somehow reached his shoulders.

A tiny girl squeezed him as tightly as she could. "HE'S SO BIG!!"

Heavy looked down at himself. "...Heavy has become backpack."

For another few seconds, his incredible strength held.

Then his massive boots began sliding backward through the dirt. The combined weight of what felt like an entire convention's worth of fangirls finally overwhelmed even him.

Heavy's eyes widened. "...Uh-oh."

He slowly tipped backward like a giant redwood. "AHHHHHH—!"

BOOM!! The ground shook.

"HELP HEAVY!" The biggest man on the battlefield disappeared beneath an enormous squealing pile of humanity. "Little women...! Very strong!"

The rest of the mercenaries immediately stopped laughing.

Because now, the stampede was dividing into groups.

One girl pointed excitedly. "ENGIE!!"

Engineer looked up. "...Oh naw."

One girl hugged him. Then another. Then another.

Within seconds, nearly forty girls had surrounded him.

Engineer disappeared beneath a sea of cameras and enthusiastic hugs. "Nope! Seriously—NOPE!"

Across the battlefield, another group spotted Demoman. "THERE'S DEMO!!"

Demoman barely had time to blink. "Aw, bloody hell—"

He vanished beneath another avalanche of fangirls.

"Remarkable..." Medic watched with scientific fascination. "Zhey appear to exhibit herd behavior. Perhaps I should document—"

"MEDIC!!"

Medic froze.

For the first time in years, he understood what it felt like to be on the wrong side of the operating table.

"...Nein." He hastily turned around. Too late.

He was immediately swallowed by hugs.

Someone burst into tears upon seeing him. Another shoved a stack of beautifully drawn fan art into his hands.

"PLEASE SIGN IT!!"

"YOUR VOICE IS SO PRETTY!"

"I LOVE YOUR LAUGH!"

Medic's brain completely blue-screened. "No! Zhey're calling me 'babygirl!' Vhat does zhat even mean?!"

Meanwhile, Spy had quietly begun walking away. Very, very quickly.

One girl gasped. "SPYYYYY!!"

Spy froze. "...Non! Non! Non!"

He immediately activated his Cloak and vanished.

One of the girls pointed toward a trail of dusty footprints. "LOOK FOR THE FOOTPRINTS!!"

Another snapped her fingers. "I SEE HIM!"

Every head turned in perfect synchronization.

Spy slowly looked over his shoulder as his cloak began to flicker.

"...Mon Dieu."

It expired.

He was visible for approximately half a second before several dozen fangirls tackled him simultaneously.

Spy had survived countless assassination attempts.

He had infiltrated enemy fortresses.

He had stared death in the face.

Yet nothing had prepared him for this.

Several yards away, Sniper slowly began backing away.

"Oh... crikey..." He watched the invisible Spy somehow get found anyway. "They can smell feahr."

He turned to run. Big mistake.

Every fangirl nearby noticed.

"HE'S SHY!!"

"THAT MAKES HIM CUTER!!"

"HIS ACCENT IS SO HOT IN REAL LIFE!!"

Sniper's soul left his body. "...Oh no."

He managed exactly three steps before disappearing beneath another squealing dogpile.

Only one mercenary remained untouched.

Pyro looked around at the sudden silence. "Mmph?"

Every remaining fangirl slowly turned toward the last standing mercenary—their eyes sparkling.

Pyro's goggles reflected hundreds of rapidly approaching smiling faces.

"...MMPH." Pyro turned and ran. "MMPPHHHHH!!!"

Meanwhile, deep inside the Administrator's control room, an alarm panel suddenly flashed bright red which read: UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL HAVE ENTERED THE COMBAT ZONE.

The Administrator stared at the screen. "...Curious."

Miss Pauling didn't hesitate. "I'm on my way."

She grabbed her pistol, called for backup over the radio, and hurried toward the Badlands.

Her mind raced through every possibility.

Foreign spies. Independent mercenaries. Another one of Gray Mann’s robot attacks. Maybe one of the teams had finally snapped and declared open war.

Because whatever it was, it had somehow caused eighteen professional killers to stop shooting at one another.

That alone was enough to worry her.

But when she got there, there was no gunfire. No explosions. No shouting.

Only the occasional quiet sniffle.

Miss Pauling slowed unmounted her scooter as she stepped deeper into the battlefield. "...Hello?"

She had arrived expecting a military disaster.

Instead, all eighteen mercenaries—RED and BLU alike—were sitting together in exhausted silence.

Nobody was fighting. Nobody was arguing. Nobody was even looking at each other.

Scout sat staring blankly into space. Soldier's helmet was somehow on backward. Pyro's gas mask was absolutely covered in lipstick marks. Heavy looked like he'd just witnessed the end of the world. Sniper simply sat in the dirt, staring into nothing with the unmistakable thousand-yard stare. 

Engineer was missing his hard hat entirely, and his once-pristine overalls looked like they'd survived a tornado. Medic's immaculate lab coat had been wrinkled beyond recognition, his glasses crooked and barely hanging onto his face. Spy's perfectly tailored suit was rumpled, his tie hung crooked. Someone had somehow managed to leave a lipstick mark on the brim of his balaclava.

Even Demoman—who normally laughed at absolutely everything—was quietly taking another long drink.

Miss Pauling blinked. "...What happened?"

Nobody answered.

She looked around the battlefield instead, seeing it was littered with... flowers? 

Bouquets. Letters. Handmade plushies. Polaroid photos. Sketchbooks. A cowboy hat with "Mrs. Sniper" stitched into the brim.

Several handmade signs lay scattered across the dirt which read: 

I LOVE YOU, SCOUT!!

MEDIC MY BELOVED!!

SNIPER PLEASE NOTICE ME!!

ENGINEER CAN WE BUILD A LIFE TOGETHER??

Spy silently removed a cigarette from his case, his hands trembled just enough to make lighting it noticeably difficult. 

"...Zey knew my favorite cigarette brand." He took a slow drag. "I have never met zhese women."

"...One of 'em said she'd been waitin' fifteen yeahrs fawr me. Fifteen yeahrs." Sniper frowned, his trauma briefly turning into confused suspicion, "...Oi 'aven't even been a snipah that long. How would they—"

BAM! Soldier slammed both fists into the ground.

"I DON'T UNDERSTAND! I DIDN'T EVEN RECRUIT THEM!" He pointed accusingly toward the empty horizon. "THEY JUST STARTED HUGGING ME!"

Miss Pauling slowly pinched the bridge of her nose. "So, none of you were injured?"

The mercenaries quietly exchanged glances.

Scout finally answered. "...Emotionally?"

Medic adjusted his crooked glasses. "...Profoundly."

"...I see." Miss Pauling nodded once. "...Why are all of you covered in lipstick?"

Every mercenary flinched— simultaneously. Even Soldier.

Nobody volunteered an explanation. Not even Spy.

For one shining moment, the mercenaries had achieved something the Gravel Wars never could. Complete unity.

Not because of diplomacy. Not because of mutual respect. Not because of a greater enemy.

But because every single one of them now understood that surviving a battlefield was infinitely easier than surviving hundreds of ecstatic fangirls who all decided, at exactly the same moment—I HAVE TO HUG HIM!!

RED Heavy slowly looked over at his BLU counterpart. "...You alive?"

The BLU Heavy stared into the distance. "...Barely."

Neither team corrected the other.

For once, RED and BLU were on exactly the same side.

Miss Pauling took one last look across the battlefield, then holstered her pistol. "I'll just tell the Administrator the invasion has been... resolved."

Scout’s hat was gone. His shirt had been stretched almost beyond recognition. His hair looked like  it'd lost a fight with a hurricane. Lipstick covered nearly every inch of his face. He had been hugged so enthusiastically that he could barely move.

And yet… 

A huge grin still spread across his bruised face.

"...Best day of my life." Then every muscle in his body collectively gave up and he immediately toppled forward.

THUD. Face-first into the dirt.

Nobody bothered to catch him.

From somewhere beneath the dust came one final, blissfully muffled declaration.

aka sniper getting flustered over his enchantingly attractive colleague

love wins, they win, I WIN. EVERYONE. WINS.

Go ahead gang make him strip!

Angelo A/N: ofc darling nonny/p!! My first time writing for this blog, so apologies if it's bad! It's also the second version, since the original version deleted itself unfortunately </3

I imagine Demoman as a controlling and clingy yandere, more under the cut!

CW: general yandere themes, manipulation, weaponized incompetence, nonconsensual drugging, toxic relationship dynamics (naturally), major character death, vague violence and gore, alcoholism (also naturally), social isolation, unaware reader, GN reader (use of "lad" though), somno? (it's not intended at all thus not descriptive but it might come off that way), lmk if I need to add more!

Edward A/N: PLEASE REQ US MORE TF2 STUFF I DON'T WANNA WORK ON MY DRAFTS THEY'RE SO BORINGG I'M BEGGING U SAVE ME

KILL AI AND REBLOG AND CREATE ART IN 2026