TF2 Oneshots! [DISCONTINUED]

I'm A Pilot. (xPro!Spy)

This is requested by @sentrywriter! Hope you like it!

I watch as the skilled man flips and backstabs his victims, the overwhelming sense of retreating on my mind.

No, [Y/n], you're not running away this time. You're staying and you're gonna be strong. I think, nodding and smiling.

"So, ma'am, do 'ou zhink 'ou can do zhat?"

The Frenchman inquires, folding his butterfly knife closed, waiting for my answer.

"I'm a pilot, sir, I don't specialize in hand-to-hand combat."

I simply tell him, a nod being his response.

"No 'arm in trying, in my opinion."

He smirks and blows some cigarette smoke away from my face, the cloud sending me into a memory I find harmful to my emotions.

Jets and helicopters burst into flames, smoke clouds filling the skies.

"L/n! L/n! Do you copy!? Land, now!"

My commander instructed, the only jet left in the sky being mine. The fear paralyzed me, the orders going through on ear and out the other.

"God damn it! Land, L/n!"

He instructed again, not ready to lose his best pilot to the bombs.

The order rings through my head, the vision of my squadron imploding around me never leaving as I land the jet, troops on the beach taking me to a safer place.

"Uh, Madame L/n, are 'ou alright?"

The Frenchman pulls me out of my memory, my eyes glossed over and dull.

"Yes, sir."

I look at him and watch the smoke float to the ceiling and disappear.

"Do 'ou take me for a fool? What is wrong, mon ami?"

He pushes on, the only answer being me taking the cigarette out of his mouth and stomping it out.

"I don't like smoke."

I simply say, Alexandre nodding.

🚬🚬🚬

It's been weeks and [Red/Blu] Spy hasn't smoked a single cigarette. Or at least, in front of me.

He'd cloak himself the second I came around while he was smoking so skilled that I didn't believe he was there half the time.

He'd make his way through the base to smoke outside, almost banning cigarettes, or smoke in Pyro's defense, in front of me.

🚬🚬🚬

The [Red/Blu] Spy hung onto the edge of the bridge, waiting for the enemy Demo to go past him, then backstabs him and does a whole 360° and headshots the enemy Heavy, the bullet going into Medic's shoulder letting Spy have an advantage to get to him without anyone being healed temporarily.

He made his way to the enemy Medic and just before he backstabs him, gets whacked by the enemy Scout.

I unholster my desert eagle, headshotting the Scout before he could use BabyFace's Blaster on Alexandre.

He nods in my direction and cloaks, running away to continue his kill streak and get the Intel.

I narrowly dodge the enemy Medic's Syringes, cartwheeling onto enemy Engineer's shoulders, headshotting him as soon as he knew I was there.

Enemies surround my group of survivors, their guns pulled against us all.

I get up and stand in front of them, giving them time to run as I held off the enemy.

Another Scout is down by my hand, my kill streak increasing by a good four kills, my memories flooding my mind as my nose takes in the sent of gunpowder and fresh blood, my pupils dilating as I lose my grip on reality.

The enemy eventually pins me down, the others protecting themselves as I sacrifice myself to keep them alive to get to the escape.

I crack the enemy Heavy's neck, my irises darkening as I continue my rampage, the enemies seeing the resemblance of Pyro in me.

Even Spy never got this many kills at once. I was destroying everyone.

Sniper? Dead at my feet.

Medic? Decapitated.

Scout? Blown holes through him.

Pyro? Burnt to a crisp.

Soldier? Blown into pieces.

Heavy? Pumped full of lead.

Demo? Stabbed with bottle shards.

Engie? Sentry turned on him.

Spy? Backstabbed.

I laugh, the hunt for a new target starting to get desperate. The men kept inside their spawn, hiding from my rampage.

Spy had enough of my insanity, cloaking and running to find me.

The battlefield had turned into ash and blood covered sand, the weaponry of the men being broken, destroyed completely, or jammed on the ground.

The pitter patter of adrenaline in my heart began to pull me out of my memories, a little too late.

Spy had stabbed me in the neck, his legs secure on my waist and his left arm around my shoulder to keep himself up.

"I'm.. gonna... kill you.."

I look up at him with eyes full of pure hatred on the outside, the inside holding sorrow and guilt.

"'ou are not 'ourself, Pilot," He begins, digging his butterfly knife deeper into my neck. "It 'ad to be done."

As my vision blurred and clouded with black, the last thing I saw was the Frenchman lay me down gently and lay a tender kiss on my cheek.

Hope you liked it!