(okay, this isn't romantic. I was inspired to write something kind of creepy, and I shall do so if I wish to. Now, fanfic...START!)
A young boy was walking around after a battle won, and came upon a box.
"What's in there?" His Bostonian accent was prominent in his speaking as he bent down to examine the box.
The box seemed fancy enough to be owned by one of his teammates, a Frenchman with expensive tastes. When he opened it, it was empty.
"Well, might as well take it..." He picked it up and walked back to the base with a hop in his step, per usual.
Once he got back to the base, one of his teammates came up to him.
"Where did you steal the box from?" The Frenchman aforementioned had a voice dripping with suspicion as he took a look at the box.
"I didn't steal it! I found it after we won, Laurent." Laurent glared at the young boy.
"Do not call me that, James. You know I only go by my class name." James rolled his eyes.
"Me too, you freaking crouton." Laurent huffed and walked away. James walked into the common room, where everybody usually is.
"Hey guys, do any of you know whose this is?" The team doctor came up and examined the box.
"It seems like something Herr Spy might own...But I'm guessing you already asked him?" James nodded at the slightly insane German doctor, who shrugged at his response.
"Then, it seems like it belongs to you, if anyone does not claim it in the next five seconds."
They waited.
Nobody said anything.
"Then, all I will say is take good care of it. It seems old." James nodded and ran up to his room to put it somewhere safe.
"Do you really think he's gonna take good care of it? I mean, he's a kid..." The drunk Scotsman had a point. James was only 21, and way too energetic from all the soda he drank.
"Well, he found it, right? If he breaks it, it's his fault, and it doesn't really matter." Everyone nodded in agreement at this piece of wisdom from the short Texan engineer.
"Oh, who cares what happens to the box? It's time to eat! We won today, men, and we deserve some good food!" The six men in the room cheered at the militaristic Midwestern American's statement, and they all raced to the mess hall.
After dinner, everyone was tired and drunk. They all stumbled to their respective rooms, except for the Scottish demolitions expert, who passed out on the couch.
"Ah jeez, I gotta drag you to your room again?" James griped and whined as he dragged Tavish's unconscious form to his room. Once he was done, he went to bed himself, with the box resting on his bedside table.
The next morning, James wasn't as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as he usually was. He still talked a lot, but not as much. He still moved around a lot, but not as much.
"Scout? You feeling alright?" The tall Australian put a comforting hand on James' shoulder.
"I feel fine, Snipes. Jeez, I'm not a baby!" The Sniper huffed and smacked him before returning to his food.
"You twitchy hooligan..."
That day, in battle, Scout wasn't performing his best. He wasn't as fast, and he was low on the scoreboard. Afterwards, the hot-blooded American grabbed James by the collar.
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT IN BATTLE TODAY, SON?!" James shrugged.
"I dunno." The Soldier dropped the poor boy and grumbled, stalking off.
YOU ARE READING
TF2 X Reader OneShots (ReDux)
FanfictionFor some reason, my first book disappeared off the face of the internet. I swear, I didn't delete it, and I'm very unhappy. A lot of work went into it. But here's a do-over.
