Red vs. Blue Oneshots

Temple x Reader

Biff has been trying to convince Temple to shoot him in the finger so he can go home and see his pregnant wife. The plan wasn't working.

After that, it was all a blur of black and aqua and orange and red.

A wet, sickening noise emerged when the Freelancer pulled the broken flag out of Biff's dying body.

Temple rushed to his friend's side and knelt down, tears streaming down his face. The orange soldier's body started to fall limp until it sagged against the wall completely.

The other Blues and Reds stood there in complete shock. This was not how they were expecting it to go down, but, as fate would have it, not everything goes according to plan.

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You stood in front of the base, sand wiggling into the tiny crevices of your armour and becoming itchier by the moment. The dry air was starting to affect your lungs, making you want to pry off your yellow armour even more by the second.

"Hey!" Yelled a voice. "Who the fuck are you?" A man in cobalt armour ran up to the top of his base. More Blues followed him up to the top of the base, and surprisingly, the Reds appeared on top as well.

"I'm (L/n), and who the Hell are you?" You shot back. A sniper rifle was pulled out by the one in cobalt, who seemingly was their leader.

"You have 3 seconds to leave, (L/n)!" He challenged. "3! 2! 1!" BANG!

A shot missed your head by a good few yards.

"Uh, that was a warning shot!" The leader declared. You scoffed mentally at him. Shaking your head you began to walk closer to the base, only to have more missed shots fired at you. Not a single one hit you.

You cocked your hip to the side and rested a hand on it. "Are you actually gonna hit me with that thing, or are you just gonna 'aim' and fail miserably?" You asked the leader. He grumbled something in coherent before jumping down from the rooftop, sending a wave of sand down and around him.

"Alright alright I'm down and I quit shooting at you," he stated. "Now why are you here?"

"Long answer or short?" He pulled out a Magnum. "Okay okay, no need for hostility. Sheesh!

"I'm here to take the spot of Biff." To say that he felt rage was an understatement. You could physically see the anger welling up inside of him even though you were still a few yard away.

"So, if I'm getting this right, which I think I am," he said through clenched teeth, "You're here to replace Biff?"

Shaking your head, you disagreed. "No. Not replace. No one can 'replace' Biff. Biff was his own person. I'm simply here to take his place."

You swore you could see his eyes roll under his helmet. It shocked you a little when he struck his hand out in front of it. Slowly, unsurely, you grabbed it.

"Call me Temple. Now, let me and my crew show you the base," Temple said.

"Base?" You asked. "What about it? Looks pretty simple to me," you pointed out.

"Oh, but that's only the top," Temple mentioned. "Just wait 'till you see the lower levels!"

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You remembered the day that you two had met crystal-clear. But now, you two were stuck in some space prison. All because of Freelancers. It was always those damned Freelancers!

First, they show up, acting like they own the place, kill Biff. Then, they reappear some years later, and act like nothing has ever happened. Oh, and just wait! It gets better! Now, they've decided to send you and the remaining Blues and Reds to space prison! Because of their own fucking mistake! If they had never killed Biff, no one would be in this fucking mess!

You and Temple sat in your prisoner cells. 'Fucking cells', you thought. 'Damn whoever invented them to Hell and worse.'

In all reality, your cell wasn't that bad. As much as it had shocked you, you and Temple shared a prison cell. This surprised you because they normally didn't put people of different genders together- males with males, females with females. Your theory was that the Freelancers had persuaded the people who ran this space prison to put you together. More fucking shit because of Freelancers.

Temple looked up from his book that he had snagged a few days back and smiled. Stopping your mental ranting about how fucking messed up the Freelancers were, you stood up and sat next to Temple.

"What were you thinking about darling?" He asked sweetly.

"How fucked up Freelancers were-slash-are. I'm hoping that damned gunmetal grey and school-bus yellow one, Washington, died," you whined angrily.

"Same. I think they said that he lived though," he replied.

"Damnit," you cussed. "So what were you reading?"

He picked the book up and checked the title. "Carrie," he said.

You nodded, having read that one. He smirked before reaching out to you.

"Fuck no!" You yapped.

You moved a foot over. Just out of his reach.

"Please?" He asked.

"What do I get out of it?" You inquired.

"Umm...not being so cold?" You though about it for a moment. Even though you were inside of a ship, you were still in space, and space was fuckin' cold as shit.

"Ugh, fine," you agreed, slowly.

Temple smirked triumphantly as you scooted closer to him. He pulled you into a tight hug against his side. Temple gave you a kiss on the forehead before wrapping his arm around you and pulling you into his lap.

Raising an eyebrow, you snuggles closer into his chest, enjoying the warmth he provided. You pressed your back flush against him, and he rested his head in the crook of your neck.

He sighed heavily.

"Hmm?" You hummed in question.

"Hey (Y/n)? You can me Mark you know," he said. "Right?"

You chuckled lightly. "Whatever you say, Mark." He smiled and wrapped his arms around you.

"Hey, remember when we met?" Temple asked.

"Oh yeah!" You exclaimed, remembering the day just like it was yesterday. "You still had horrible shooting skills with that sniper rifle of yours!"

"What? No no no, that's not true!" He joked.

"Again. Whatever you say Mark."

Outside of your cell, you heard a guard yell, "Hey! Give that book back!"