TF2 x Reader Oneshots

Spy X Sick!Reader

Dedicated to Astrid4242. So this story has been on my mind for like a week and I thought about finally putting it on paper. Thanks for all the votes and I hope y'all enjoy this shot loves!  :*

Tears cascaded down your blanched face like endless streams of running rivers, but it wasn't because of the insidious needles being pricked inside your wrists or the various drugs taking effect on your being; rather, it was because of a certain Frenchman you've caught getting all touchy with some woman throwing herself at him two days past.

"We're done ma'am," the nurse said softly through her mask, yet her tired, dark eyes remained indifferent to the wreck of a state you were in. After getting her equipment, she left briskly without another word and you realized that you were alone once more when the cold, plastic doors to your room clicked in place. The sound cut through the still air, and you sighed shakily, your hands fisting the blanket beside you.

I trusted him...

More tears sprung from your eyes and you closed your heavy lids, wanting to hide the pain through the wonderful mask of slumber. It seemed to work all the time, so it should work this time, right?

Shortly afterwards, you felt the warm, beckoning hands of drowsiness grabbing and dragging you into its amazing world, where everything was dark but anything was possible- healing was possible and it was finally within reach.

The door to your room burst open and the magic of sleepland shattered away; in its stead, the cruel head of reality reared itself out in the guise of the masked man whom you thought loved you faithfully.
It was the perfect wolf in sheep's clothing scenario and you knew you were stupid for ever believing he could change.

"(Y/N), I was so worried cherie," the Frenchman whispered quietly, his voice lined with a knowing tone.

"What are you doing here?" you spat lifelessly, staring at the valleys of creases that have littered your white blanket.

Spy could only tuck his thumbs under the neck of his faded crimson mask before he swiftly pulled it up and off his head, exposing the handsome face you've wished you've never fallen in love with. He then proceeded to part his lips, "I... I 'aven't 'eard from you for almost two days now," he whispered, "I was worried cherie."

"Wow, I'm glad you remembered me even if you've got that new chick," you sneered with a roll of the eyes, "tell me, what's her name this time?"

"(Y/N)," he croaked softly, "W-what are you talking about?" his voice was clearly laced with hurt and distress; two emotions people have suspected him of never having. His face was etched with confusion, but you knew better: It was just another one of his masks.

"Don't," you harshly clenched your teeth as beads of tears flung with a swift swipe of your head, "play dumb with me Spy; you may have fooled a lot of people but I know what I saw- I saw you with a woman and she was throwing herself at you, and you, being the womanizer you are, didn't even try to stop her!"

You hadn't realized that the tears had flown out or that you were being so loud until your vision blurred and the only sounds you heard were your strained vicious breathing.

"Did you really know what you saw, hm, (Y/N)?" Spy challenged with a lifted brow; his stance tall and straight, his jaw set tight. There was a fierce spark of emotion and confidence in his blue orbs that the Frenchman tried suppressing, almost as though he was holding himself back from firing at you.

His sudden burst of sureness somewhat fazed you and you swallowed the awful lump that had formed back down into your throat. Your tired eyes skated up and down his sophisticated form and your ears perked up once more the moment he freed his low, silky voice out in the cold atmosphere.