#I feel that Hanzo is a really light sleeper but when he's really comfortable with someone he sleeps like a LOG | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

utsuhan · 2 years

Note

💥 COLLISION, 💤 SLEEPING, 🥞 PANCAKE, 🎭 MASKS, 📏 RULER, 🌈 RAINBOW, 💓 BEATING HEART ( ahem ), 💚 GREEN HEART

headcanon meme here !

💥 COLLISON - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with?

is all an acceptable answer ? seriously speaking though, hanzo works through emotions in a very unhealthy way, and saying he has trouble dealing with them is the understatement of the century. if you were to have me at gunpoint though, i think the hardest emotion he’s confronted is guilt ! he has a lot in his past that he feels he needs to make up for: not just him nearly killing genji ( though of course, that is probably the biggest thing in his mind ) but his role in the clan’s downfall, disappointing his father, failing to honor his mother’s last wishes, just about everything else in his life that’s fallen apart. while emotions like grief or embarrassment are very quickly turned into anger, guilt makes him uncomfortable because he only has himself to pin the blame on.

💤 SLEEPING - do they fall asleep easily? what helps them sleep?

ABSOLUTELY NOT, hanzo is practically awake 24/7. he struggles with a general reluctance to sleep some nights and insomnia that tests his sanity others. if he feels safe and comfortable enough, he takes medicine to help him get to sleep. otherwise, he’s a very light sleeper who will startle awake after hearing a single footstep in the hallway. aside from his medication, nothing really helps him get to bed other than the company of trusted people. when he’s really restless, physical activity is his go to method of tiring himself out as much as he can: push ups, target practice, walks outside !

🥞 PANCAKE - what is their comfort breakfast?

hanzo grew up eating a fairly traditional japanese diet, and so he doesn’t really eat western breakfast foods ! he finds that a bowl of rice, egg, and soy sauce, along with miso soup and barley tea, is the best start to his day. he can definitely be persuaded to make a more typical american breakfast though. he likes pancakes and avocado toast.

🎭 MASKS - do they act differently around certain people? what's different between the way they act around friends, family, strangers, etc.?

yes, to a certain extent ! initial impressions of hanzo can range from quiet, cool, grumpy, or a snobby asshole. it’s very hard to get a read on him because his demeanor leads most to believe he isn’t a very expressive person in general. nothing could be further from the truth ! he is much softer with children and young adults than he is with people closer to his age, though he struggles with more precocious and sassy personalities. generally, you don’t really realize that you’re close to hanzo until he starts laughing at your jokes or participating in some light banter with you. his general demeanor of stern discipline and aloofness remains, but he’s far less inclined to just shut down whatever nonsense you’re going on about.

📏 RULER - is your oc well educated? where did they get their learning from?

absolutely ! hanzo was educated by several private tutors, the best that money could buy. a few actually taught his father in his youth and others were fresher faces that had made a name for themselves amongst the higher class. he did officially attend a private institution from the age of six to eighteen with other children, but his presence in lessons was sparse. he made few friends because he mostly kept to himself, and the majority of his learning happened within shimada castle.

🌈 RAINBOW - what advice would they give to their younger self?

this is hard, if only because hanzo tries not to dwell on the past too much. it gets very tough for him to reflect on the happier memories of his childhood / adolescence because it reminds him of how little he has left in the presence. he would probably tell his younger self to treasure the time he has with his family and with relatively little weighing on his mind. in his youth, feeling the pressures of expectations was certainly not a small struggle by any means, but current hanzo would take that over the guilt and remorse he has to live with any day.

💓 BEATING HEART - what gets their heart racing?

romantically ? plenty of things ! hanzo is so touch starved and repressed that even looking at him a certain way will elicit a reaction. the easiest way to get him flustered is touching him, no matter how innocuous the contact, or flirting with him. pet names, compliments, all are sure to get his face turning bright red.

💚 GREEN HEART - what things make them feel comforted? hugs, kisses, food?

hanzo likes being near the people he loves, even if he’s comfortable in solitude as well. hugs are definitely a big one too. his love language in terms of giving is acts of service, but his preference in receiving include physical touch and quality time ! his dragons are another big one, they comfort him in a way that not much else can, and they make sure he’s safe and feeling okay in his worst moments. as they are, to a certain extent, reflective of his current internal state, you can generally tell if your actions or general presence are helping or hurting him.

#弓 ` 𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣 ‚ study.#miqhtyfine #shakes this @ you #deep dive on h/anzo like :)#nothing i haven't talked about on d/isc tbh BUT STILL #it's 11 pm and this is more important to me than my schoolwork

4 notes · View notes

overdrivels · 7 years

Note

Could I request something with the good old-fashioned 'we have to share a bed because there's only one and no one told us beforehand' trope? With either Hanzo or McCree; you can decide which. (Like one of them and the reader get assigned to the same mission and have to stay a hotel or safehouse or something, idk.)

It’s Snow Problem

I am 9000% convinced that Hanzo would take the stupid floor if there wasn’t some really good reason behind it (like the floor was lava). So I mashed up two tropes: one bed + we’re going to freeze to death unless we share body heat.

The only reason why I never picked up this trope was because I would personally pick the floor. I’m very used to sleeping on hard surfaces, so the floor would be my preferred sleeping place unless there was, like I said before, lava.

“Da-damn, t-the–the he-h-heat’s n, not working eith-either?”

You literally could not stop your teeth from chattering or your fingers from trembling as you desperately messed around with the dial on the very, very outdated radiator. Didn’t this cabin have some sort of code to follow? You can’t be sure if the dial isn’t turning because it’s frozen or if you just couldn’t put enough strength into your frozen digits.

“There’s n-no hot water.”

Behind you, Hanzo steps out from the bathroom, barely able to contain the shaking in his voice. His heavy coat was positively encrusted with white, glittering ice decorated his hair, the dying rays of the sun catching them and lighting them up obnoxiously. It showed no sign of melting anytime soon. His face was red with windburn—you’re sure you didn’t look any better—and his breath hung around him like a ghostly veil.

It’d be a miracle if neither of you managed to catch a cold or worse.

You curse your luck and at Winston who sent you both here to Yukon on this mission to investigate rumors about Talon activity. Something about a hidden laboratory deep in the icy tundra of the Yukon. The two of you almost got caved in when you entered the space—it seemed to have been a final defense mechanism for Talon’s abandoned bases.

In hindsight, you really should’ve asked Mei to switch with you when she was assigned to go the Bahamas. Mei looked absolutely miserable when she was asked to go. You have no doubt she has the same thoughts as you at this moment. She never really did like showing off her skin.

It wasn’t as though you were both entirely unprepared–extra set of clothes, self-activating heat packs (courtesy of Genji), blankets, and other supplies that would’ve proven useful in the situation.

That is, if those supplies were drenched in the brief swim they took down some slushy body of water. In your defense, the footing was bad and in both your defenses, neither of you could afford to jump into the fast-moving waters. Luckily, Hanzo had managed to pin it to fallen tree with a well-aimed arrow. Retrieving it proved a little more harrowing than expected: you both nearly fell in when the tree partially gives out, leaving your pants and boots soaked. Luckily, the journey back to the cabin was a short one, saving you both from the possibility freezing your limbs. But not short enough to avoid the storm that is currently raging outside.

You cross the room to look out the window—it’s almost completely frosted over. The telltale ‘squish’ of your boots remind you of just how uncomfortable wet socks are and that they need to come off along with any other clothes that you have on.

“The-the generator’s out-outside. Sh-shit.”

It doesn’t look like the storm is going to let up anytime soon either. Going out there may be the equivalent of suicide. The lingering cold that roots itself firmly into your bones remind you of just how unforgiving the weather can be. The fireplace itself is empty, all the wood being outside. It’s probably all wet anyway.

“There’s no signal,” Hanzo announces, setting his communicator down on the table. You politely ignore how he nearly knocks it to the ground with the way his fingers shake.

“Looks-looks like we-we’ll have to wea-we-weather this one out. God damn it all.”

No electricity, no heat, no communications, no hot water–no people in sight of your tiny cabin window, it’s practically a repeat of the Omnic Crisis, just with less shit burning to the ground. If you both want to survive the night, there were some things you had to handle first. Namely, getting out of these clothes that are no longer doing anything to contain your body heat. A bulb of dread and anxiety drops into your stomach, swimming around for a brief moment.

You take a quick glance at Hanzo who seems preoccupied with checking his bow with whatever little light is left. In a few minutes, you’ll be lucky to see your hands in front of your own faces. It’s a small comfort that he won’t be able to see you (but your traitorous mind wonders what he would think if he did see). You shake your head to cast away those thoughts, droplets of cold water flinging everywhere. First thing’s first.

You take a breath for courage, and begin to tearing off your soaked gloves with your teeth, your other hand too clumsy to be of much help. You almost gag, the taste of melted snow and worn plastic fills your mouth.

Your attempts to undress must’ve attracted Hanzo’s attention. He sounds positively scandalized when he hisses, “What are you doing?”

“We need–we need to get out of these clothes.”

You could sense Hanzo opening his mouth to protest and immediately cut him off before he has a chance to lecture you on dignity. “You’ll fr-freeze, Hanzo. There’s no heat, no hot water, we’re—we’re soaked. Take whatever no-n-notions you have about modesty and shove–shove ‘em; we need to stay alive.” That’s what you’re doing at the moment, anyway.

At his skeptical silence, you add, “I’ll turn around, so no need to worry–I can’t see very well in the dark, anyway.” The wind rattles the windows as though adding to your point.

Little did you know, Hanzo had been specially trained to function in the dark without the need to enhancements or fancy goggles like a certain arachnid. Assassinations didn’t usually take place in broad daylight, after all. Every movement, every twitch of your muscles was easily captured in his eyes. It is beyond distracting, but he’d never let you know that.

Despite his silence, you know that Hanzo understands the sense you are making when you also hear the rustle of clothes behind you. Satisfied with his compliance (and that you won’t have to report to anyone that someone died because they refused to take of their clothes), you continued your own disrobing.

Each particle of clothing hit the hardwood floors with a loud, wet slap, and you can feel the floor jump at the impact, almost mocking you both. The tension is almost palpable, making the act of removing your clothes even more difficult with the extra water and snow caked onto it. With each piece of clothing you lose, you shiver violently at the air that assaults you. But you clench your teeth and press on. You have your own skin to save. The greatest relief comes when you take off your socks—there’s no worse feeling outside of pain that compares to the skin-crawling squish of wet socks—even though the wooden floors are cold as all hell.

“They–they should’ve sent M-M-Mei on this mission,” you say jokingly as you wring out your shirt. “She would’ve loved this. Probably would’ve been better prepared, too.”

You only receive icy silence, your attempt at a livening the atmosphere dies as it comes out of your mouth. Hanzo seems very single-minded in his unclothing. You slap an unsteady hand to your forehead. That thought was dirty. He’s your comrade-in-arms, not a pin-up. Calm down.

Normally, your thoughts didn’t travel down this route–sure, he is attractive, but not enough to distract you. Maybe the cold’s hindering your mental facilities. That must be it.

You strip down to your underwear and, to your infinite irritation, even those were soaked somehow. You’re going to put in a complaint with Winston about his new snow and water-proof gear. You tug at your underwear, grimacing at the wetness.

‘To hell with it’, you decided as you reluctantly pulled those off, too. You glanced quickly back at Hanzo as you did, hoping that he wouldn’t see.

It’s so dark you could barely even see him.

Actually, you don’t even see the archer anywhere. You whip your head around, trying to catch sight of his outline. Where did he–?

“Here.”

You’re hit by something soft and blissfully dry. It’s a large towel, musty from disuse, but welcome, nonetheless.

“Thank–thank you.”

He grunts, and there’s the sound of him putting on his own towel. You first wring your hair through it, the icy water dripping down your bare back is far from comfortable, before you wrap it around yourself in a very pathetic attempt to get warm. It barely does its job, and you feel a little less exposed to the elements. Now that you’re no longer in danger of freezing to death via an icy cage of fabric, there are other matters to attend to.

You cast a forlorn glance at the silhouette of the duffel bag, wondering if anything survived the brief dunk in the water. You decide it’s worth a shot, and try to open it. You hiss at the stinging cold. The bag is freezing still from having been dropped into the slushy water. Next time, you’re going to take a drone and you’re going to cold-proof it so it can carry your stuff. Brilliant.

You hold the towel closed as you rummage through the contents of the bag—wet clothes, wet bags, wet and ice-encrusted everything except—

“Yes!” You pull out a thick stick, and before Hanzo could even stop you, you twist and snap it, immediately flooding the room with a warm yellow light (and accidentally blinding yourself).

Hanzo hisses like a disgruntled cat, snatching the emergency light stick from your hands as you begin to rub your eyes free of the afterimages.

When you’re finally able to open them without seeing strange colors, you had to fight to keep your mouth closed. Hanzo is completely shirtless save a towel around his midsection, covering up his stomach and upper thighs. The muscles previously hidden by the thick layers of protective gear and winter wear now exposed to the nippy air. You drop your gaze so you’re not tempted to stare—you’ve seen other sculpted men before, but the fact that it’s Hanzo makes this different somehow. Though, something seems off about him.

You keep your gaze to the floor, his legs. You weren’t sure if your eyes were playing tricks on you, and rubbed your eyes to be sure. (It stung more than you would’ve liked.)

“You–you have legs? Human…legs?”

Behind him, what you thought were prostheses seemed to now be just empty casings, lying neatly on the ground. He glares at you but quickly turns away, arms crossed over his chest, the light making the dragons on his arm seem more ominous than usual. You’re not sure because the light itself isn’t strong enough for you to tell, but you could swear that there is a tinge of pink on his chest and cheeks.

However, his biting voice immediately drives your thoughts away from that. “Is that a problem?” The condensation from his mouth circles him like dragons. The imagery is almost frightful.

“N-no, no!” you stammer, “I just, I just thought that…y-you know what, never mind.”

You turn your back and kneel down, returning to rummaging through the contents of the wet bag, trying find something useful and to distract yourself from the awkwardness of a topic that shouldn’t be discussed. A series of shivers run down your spine at the contact. Damn, you really should’ve switched with Mei—but then she’d be stuck in this situation, and she’s not exactly comfortable with being nude, especially in the presence of others (but logically, she’d probably be the most unlikely person to be caught in this sort of situation in the first place).

You chance upon a medium size container and you immediately brighten when you realize what it is.

“Hey, Hanzo, look when I found!” You hold up the thermos, kept airtight and thus uncontaminated by the cold. Perhaps it’s a little too tight, and you struggle to get it open while using your elbows to squeeze the towel against your body.

“Allow me.”

Hanzo gently snatches it from your trembling fingers, kneeling down to meet you at eye level. You couldn’t help but watch as the light illuminates his muscles undulating as he attempts to do what you could not, and highlights the sharp angle of his face and his nose, the fullness of his lips—you had to look away. The cold must be making you delirious.

“Here.”

He’s already poured a cup for you. Even at this distance, he refused to look at you, eyes stubbornly averting your general direction. You pluck it from his hands with a quiet, “Thanks”. A close look at the contents revealed it to be more of a golden broth that the chef insisted you both take with you. The steam that rises from it is a wonderful reminder that the broth is very warm—perfect for this situation.

From the corner of your eye, you see Hanzo put his hands together and mutter a quick “いっただきます” before raising the steaming bowl to his lips and taking a hearty sip. You did the same and almost gagged at the taste.

It is somewhat metallic—strong hints of ginseng, ginger, and other flavors that you couldn’t quite place. It undoubtedly warms you, the stark contrast sends a harsh shiver down your body, skin raising with gooseflesh. Your teeth tingles from the heat, and your stomach feels a ton heavy like molten lava just made its home there. You didn’t really realize it before, but you seem to have been getting used to the cold.

You take another large, but difficult gulp; the broth leaves behind a bitter yet soothing aftertaste (you don’t think you’d drink it a second time outside of a life or death situation). You’re going to have a word with the chef when you get back to Gibraltar. You don’t know if Hanzo disliked the taste, but he didn’t comment, so neither did you. You weren’t exactly in the best position to complain about warm sustenance in the middle of a blizzard, after all.

You both ate in silence, the occasional slurp breaking it.

It probably wouldn’t be long before the other Overwatch agents noticed your disappearances—Winston had insisted on updates every six hours, and the last communications either of you had with the scientist was early this morning right before you and Hanzo went to scope the Talon lab. Since the communicator isn’t working, you wondered how long it’d take before anyone back at base realizes that you’re both stranded here.

Stupid technology, even after so many years of advancement, it still can’t send a signal in the middle of a snowstorm?

Hanzo gets up from his kneeling position, having finished his portion of soup. You’re still having some difficulty drinking it without holding your breath. Though, by the time you are done, Hanzo’s returned. He hands you some clothes hangers from the closet, now that you can both see in the dark to not stab yourself with one accidentally (unfortunate as it may be, it’s happened before).

“We should hang up our clothes so they may dry.”

You take a look at your sodden pile. “Oh, right, th-thank.” You set down your cup and take your chilly clothes into your arms and the offered hangers before stepping into the bathroom. As a side thought, you twist a knob on the sink and unsurprisingly, get nothing. You sigh. It was worth a shot.

You see that Hanzo was one step ahead of you, his clothes are already hanging neatly from the shower curtain. You wonder when he had the chance to do so without you hearing. You shake your head, it must’ve been when you were too preoccupied with stripping. Though, as you’re hanging your clothes, something else catches your eye.

A white, long rectangle of cloth hangs innocently off the railing, water dripping from it rhythmically. Wait, you recognized this. It was a…loincloth? You keep your mouth shut, teeth clenched to the point that they couldn’t even chatter. This is not a good point of conversation. Not at all. You’re sure that if you speak a word of this to anyone, you’d somehow receive an arrow to the head. Several, if Hanzo was angry enough.

So you quietly hang up your clothes, readjust your towel, and back out of the room. You sincerely hope that Hanzo does not realize you’ve seen his choice of undergarments (but to be fair, he hung them up first), you’re not sure you could ever erase the image from your mind.

Luckily for you, he doesn’t seem to even be thinking such things, instead, he’s standing there awkwardly, staring at the bed with open apprehension. Strange.

“What’s wrong?”

He continues looking at the bed, the corner of his mouth turned downward in distaste. You also squint at it like the answer would manifest itself if you stared hard enough. Was it monsters? Bed bugs?

You blink slowly at him, then at the bed.

It hits you like a freight train. It’s a problem neither of you realized when you first entered the cabin, too preoccupied with trying to get out of the storm and its non-existence comforts.

There’s only one bed.

It’s not that small, but it’s barely enough to fit the two of you, it seems. Inwardly, you groan. You’re sure that you’d never hear the end of this if any of the other Overwatch members find out.

“I will ta-take the floor,” Hanzo says briskly, already trying to establish his new place of rest by sitting down. You had to wince sympathetically when he gave a full body shiver—you could even see the goosebumps from where you stand. Not even his pride is going to be enough to keep him warm at night. His self-loathing and hate, perhaps, but again—thoughts you really shouldn’t entertain.

“You’ll freeze to death down there,” you protest, lifting up the covers. They were thick, and seem like they’d be great at keeping you warm. Unfortunately enough, there’s only one of them. “Not like there are any other blankets, either.”

He does not respond. You crawl into the bed first, biting back a gasp when your body meets the cold mattress. You position yourself as close to the wall as possible without actually touching it, leaving ample space for the archer.

When you turn, you see he still hasn’t moved from his spot, and you sigh. “Come on, Hanzo. It’s just for one night.” Hopefully. “There’s nothing for-for you to sleep on. Just—just get up here. I’ll just stay o-over on this side.”

You could feel his hesitation, so you turn again to face the wall laying down onto the pillow to give him so privacy (or the illusion of detachment)—the pillow, too, is freezing and your wet hair pressing against your skin made it even worse. You really couldn’t wait to get back to base. Maybe trade stories with Mei when she undoubtedly returns with sunburn.

“If you insist,” he says quietly, reluctantly. You take that as your cue to press yourself even further from ‘his’ side of the bed.

Slowly, you could hear Hanzo get up and take a few tentative steps toward the bed. You could hear his ribbon pulling free, and you could almost see his hair coming free of its confines, spilling over his shoulders stiffly. The mattress dips underneath his weight as he crawls in carefully, laying as far away as the blankets would allow. You have to hold onto your end tightly to keep them from slipping off and getting stolen by your new bedmate. You both lay there, back to back. If you even turn just little bit, your skin would be pressed against his own–you could imagine it just sticking to each other. Your back tingles at the proximity, and you try hard not to focus on the fact that you could feel his presence right behind you.

The chattering in your teeth is slowly subsiding, the warmth of two bodies underneath the covers chases away the cold that haunts you both. The metronome of your dripping clothes is the only thing that fills the silence accompanied by the howl of the wind. You could feel Hanzo’s breathing more than you could hear it—the blanket dips and rises with each breath.

When you finally regain some semblance of consciousness, you notice that it’s hot—almost too hot and you’re sweating all over, but at the same time, it was chilly. Your eyes could barely open, aching and somewhat swollen. It must’ve been the wind and ice yesterday, you reasoned. The next thing that comes is that you’re painfully aware of more skin to skin contact than you remember going to bed with.

You couldn’t move without feeling the sensation of peeling skin. The threat of a painful extraction is almost as cringe-worthy as what you image to be Hanzo’s reaction to waking up in this sort of position. At least by some miracle, both your towels are intact, left in the place you both had them when you went to sleep.

But to make matters worse rather than better, Hanzo fills the space between your chin and collarbone with his face, curling into a ball and pressing himself against you as though you two would suddenly click into place. One arm is curled around your back, and the other is trapped between both your bodies, drawing you impossibly close. It vaguely reminded you of a child seeking their parent’s comfort or, if your mind dares go into that territory, two lov—no, no. Don’t go there, thoughts.

However, your thoughts are quickly drowned out when Hanzo noses his way into your neck, his lips skim against your clavicle and you jump at the sensation. ‘It’s okay,’ you told yourself as your heart begins to race like mad. He is just sleeping. He doesn’t know what he’s doing; it’s an accident. As if to prove you wrong, he continues to press his lips there and mumble unintelligibly. You tried to squirm away, the ticklish sensation combined with the close proximity was too much to bear, biting down the need to start laughing or shoving him out of the bed.

Apparently displeased with your struggles, he tucks his chin in, and almost sprawls himself against you, pressing you down onto you back and lying on top. The sudden motion makes you hiss—you were right, the feeling of peeling skin really hurts. But you have little time to dwell on it when his weight is almost suffocating you. Your new position is arguably less ticklish, but no less awkward. You shift, trying to get comfortable, but his weight pins you down firmly.

“Oh, com’on, Hanzo,” you whisper. You’re surprised he still hasn’t woken up—what sort of ninja is he anyway?

You try another half-hearted struggle, but huff and give up when it doesn’t seem like you’re making any headway, too tired to bother. Might as well let the archer do his thing—there isn’t much you could do anyway outside of bucking his straight off the bed and giving him a very rude awakening (that may or may not result in him attacking you in a blind panic).

Vaguely, you notice it’s still dark, and the screams of the wind from hours before have now died down to become whispers. It seems like the storm has calmed down, sufficient for a signal to get through and for help to come. It’s too bad you’re stuck under a couple hundred pounds of sleeping muscle. You smile to yourself and look down blearily at the archer.

He seems so comfortable, hair splayed out messily around him, legs intertwined with yours so intimately that you’re sure that he’s going to die of embarrassment when he wakes up. You sigh, closing your eyes and willing yourself to go back to sleep. You could deal with this later. The beating of his heart against your chest, his steady breaths, and warmth makes that easy.

The next time you awaken, there’s the distinct sound of chatter, a lack of a body, and a hand to your forehead. It’s large and comfortable, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat that seems to have clogged your throat and nose.

“’nzo?”

You whine when the hand jerks back, exposing your forehead to the chilly morning (was it still morning?) air.

“—ne moment. You’re awake?”

You make a noise of affirmation in the back of your throat—it hurts and it feels like something’s stabbing the insides, you realize. You bury yourself deeper beneath the covers, feeling like you haven’t slept a wink. Your body aches, and your head hurts—it must be the result of having your hair still wet while you slept in such cold weather. That sounds logical.

A few more words were exchanged between Hanzo and whomever he was talking to before, it sounds somewhat heated and pressing, but you weren’t paying attention, sleep beckoning you like a siren’s call that you had no strength to resist.

“Stay awake. You’ve caught a cold,” Hanzo says softly but sternly when he notices you trying to doze off again.

Through your haze, you don’t really understand the severity of his words, but you nod anyway, if only to have him leave you alone so you may return to sleep sooner. You could hear him rummaging through bags, cursing firmly and searching more frantically when he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for.

You’re tempted to laugh at him, but right now, you’re just too tired to do much but try to follow his order. You blink at his back—it’s clothed. Maybe his shirt has dried? What about your own clothes then?

“Apologizes, but there is no medicine,” he says suddenly. Your leg jerks, your whole body jolting to temporary wakefulness. It looks like despite your best attempt, you ended up dozing off after all. “I have contacted the others, they will be here in several hours.”

“S’okay,” you mumble. You just wanted to sleep some more, and it’s too cold to do some comfortably. “Hey, Hanzo. Do me a favor?”

“Yes?”

“Get in here, it’s cold.”

For the record, I rather like the ginseng chicken soups my mother makes. It just doesn’t taste very good in the first few sips.

#anon #ask #this is 4k+ of words whyyy #I feel that Hanzo is a really light sleeper but when he's really comfortable with someone he sleeps like a LOG #I don't know why this is so long #I'm so sorry #hanzo x reader #reader #Goddamnit why did I even make this title a pun #please understand that I literally cannot keep track of myself when writing really long fics #I am now done with requests and now I need to sleep again #sorry it took so long #my writing

70 notes · View notes

overwatch-x-reader · 7 years

Note

How would hanzo, zenyatta, 76 react to their s/o screaming awake in the middle of the night? Only to find out the next day that their s/o has had severe ptsd for a very long time and the boys never even knew about it. (BTW I love your work it's really well written! 😁)

Interesting little idea here, if this is something you suffer with then my thoughts are with you. I’m not particularly familiar with PTSD so there aren’t any details of it in here, but I hope this is what you were looking for and apologies for the delay! Also, that comment is just lovely, thank you so very much!

Hanzo

His eyes snap open instantly

Not that he’s a particularly light sleeper

Just that at the first sign of distress from you and his body is in overdrive

He turns to you instantly, brow furrowed in anger and ready to kill whatever was hurting you

He softens when he realises this is an inward demon

His arms wrap around you hesitantly

Not wanting to scare you, but hoping to provide some sort of comfort

You nestle into him and he takes it as a sign

Wrapping tighter around you and tangling his legs with yours

Just making sure you knew you were protected

He stayed awake until you were snoring softly once more

In the morning, he asked you about it

In his usual blunt manner, of course

But also making sure you knew that you didn’t have to answer if you didn’t want to

You decided just to explain your PTSD to him

He listened attentively, refusing to speak until you had talked as much as you wished

Afterwards, he pulled you close again, keeping you in the safety of his embrace

He told you to talk to him next time, and you agreed

Zenyatta

He was sitting by the side of your bed, as he did every night

Having no need for sleep, he enjoyed watching over you instead

When you began screaming for seemingly no reason however, he was almost paralysed

Unsure of what exactly to do for a few seconds

Soon, his calmness returned and he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder

Whispering soothing words in your ear

At the same time, his mind was working furiously to work out the issue

For the rest of the night, he worked through all the possibilities logically

Whilst also checking on you every two seconds

By morning, he had worked out was what wrong

But he wanted you to feel able to tell him rather than him telling you

He explained his concern, hoping you’d feel able to tell him

You decided to, taking your time

When you’d finished, Zenyatta smiled and stroked your cheek

Telling you that you’d works through this together from now on

Soldier76

He’s a super heavy sleeper so he doesn’t wake up at first

Its only when you start truly screaming that he begins to wake, sleepily

When he realises what’s happening though, he’s quickly alert

Jumping out of bed and grabbing his gun to confront what he assumes is an attacker

Gets extremely confused when theres no one there

Eventually, the soldier instincts die down, and he realises this isn’t something he can fight

He actually has to fight back his own tears when he sees yours rolling steadily down your face

Carefully he climbs back into bed next to you

He doesn’t hold you, he’s too afraid to scare you again

Instead. he just takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles

Its all he can think of to console you

In the morning when he comes downstairs, he stays quiet

He doesn’t want to push you at all, it has to be your decision in his mind

But luckily for him, you’ve already decided you want to tell him

He keeps butting in by accident to ask questions but you can tell its only because he wants to know everything

Afterwards, he goes online straight away, looking up ways he can help you

Constantly scribbling on a little notepad, making your heart soar

#overwatch x reader #overwatch headcanons #hanzo x reader #zenyatta x reader #soldier76 x reader #jack morrison x reader #hanzo #zenyatta #soldier76 #hanzo shimada #jack morrison #ask #anonymous

502 notes · View notes

poutypanic · 7 years

Text

Dramatics

This fic is fluff and rated teen, you are in a poly! relationship with Jesse and Hanzo, and today they are both sick!

Link for AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10464945/chapters/24059352

Today, you received a cryptic text message, and it’s not shocking that it’s from Jesse.

***

Jesse: were dyin

***

That’s it, all the text says. Normally, there is a succession of about five other two-to-three worded text messages that would follow, but not this time. You stare at the text message for a whole five minutes waiting for some context to roll in. Taking their history into consideration. When no follow-up text message comes, you are a little worried. However, your fears are quickly calmed when another text message finally arrives.

*** Hanzo: No we’re not dying, it just feels that way.

Hanzo: We're sick.

Jesse: thats wut i said

Hanzo: It is not.

*** You can't help but sigh, and roll your eyes. You really should have known better, especially by now. However, you air a bit on the gullible side.

***

Jesse: com get sick with us

Jesse: and bring soup plz

Jesse: the spicy stuff

You: Um I’ll drop some soup off at the door?

Jesse: i thought u loved us

Hanzo: Stop!

You: I’m kidding

You: I’ll be by shortly

Hanzo: No. Don’t come here, it’s terrible.

*** You don't doubt that he’s right, but you’re already on your way. It’s a very rare occurrence for you to get sick, even when hanging around others who are. You’ve lived in households where every single person ended up sick. Yet, somehow, you managed to get by unscathed. So you throw caution to the wind, ask them what their symptoms are, and stop by a drug store to get the proper medications. Your last stop is the Thai restaurant that the three of you often get take out from. Here you get two orders of curry noodle soup. As well as some food for yourself, before heading on over.

When you get there, you don’t need to knock, and you let yourself in. Hanzo and Jesse had given you a key, months back, and the permission to come and go as you please. When you step inside, you have to turn on a light, because they don't have a single one on and the blinds are shut tight. Jesse is sprawled out on the couch with blankets, and what looks to be about four pillows. He blinks several times and groans at the sudden abundance of light.

Hanzo is laying on the floor, and with nothing but a box of tissues by his head. He’s got no pants, just a pair of silly looking boxers. Surprisingly, he does have a t-shirt on. One of his plethora of tees with personality. It says, “My Life Has No Porpoise” featuring a sad whale.

“I’m gonna burn that shirt Han.”

“Make sure I’m in it when you do.”

The retort doesn't even faze you. You’re used to Hanzo’s dark humor, “Are you comfortable down there? Do you want some pillows? Maybe a blanket?”

With an arm thrown over his eyes, he shakes his head, “This is the only thing that feels right.”

You let out a tight-lipped sigh, your way of communicating, “Whatever you say.” You place your pile of goods onto the kitchen counter, “Well you guys are gonna have to sit up if you want to eat. And no I’m not feeding you, babies.”

Hanzo coughs, “I would never ask such a thing.”

Jesse grumbles, “Please? My arms hurt.”

Hanzo picks up the box of tissues and throws it at him, “Stop.”

Jesse actually manages to catch it. Despite having his arms buried in blankets. He clutches it to his chest and sticks his tongue out at Hanzo. You place their food within arms reach, along with a separate plate with their medication. You look around at their surroundings looking for any signs that they have been making an effort to take care of themselves.

You shake your head, “I don’t see any water, no juice, no nothing. You guys never been sick before or what?”

“Sugar, I’m afraid we’re useless right now."

Hanzo coughs some more and it sounds like it hurts. It's the kind of cough that dries out a person's lungs, and makes their chest feel aflame. He manages to get out, "Usually one of us is healthy when the other gets sick."

"Uh-huh, and what were you guys gonna do if I couldn't come over?"

Hanzo shrugs, "Die?"

Jesse wheezes and coughs as he laughs, "Please, Han."

"I really don't know what I expected you to say," you pause. “How’d you guys get sick anyway?”

Hanzo has an idea, “We have to stop taking that filthy subway.”

Jesse cough-giggles, “But you love a filthy subway.”

Hanzo really wishes that he had something else to throw. They playfully stare each other down, while you are working on getting some windows open. As it’s a nice day out and some fresh air will do them good. As you're opening the last window some dust floats down and gets into your nose. This, unfortunately, causes you to sneeze. Both of the men audibly gasp.

Hanzo says, “Oh no.”

“Quit it! It's just one sneeze.”

Jesse tries and fails to sit up, “That’s how it starts, with one sneeze, then the next thing ya' know you're gonna be dyin’, just like us. How romantic.”

You place both of your hands on your hips, “So dramatic! It was from the dust!”

“Sure it was,” Hanzo says in-between coughs.

“Watch this,” you start to dance. Albeit like a dork, but you’re trying to get them to focus on something else, “See? If I didn’t feel well would I be able to do all that?”

Hanzo is done, “The only way you’d be able to do any of that, is if you were suffering from a severe case of fever-induced delirium.”

You cackle, “What are you talking about! Are those not the sweet moves that got me in here in the first place?”

Jesse is trying his hardest not to laugh, because it hurts too much to do so. But like most things he is trying to do right now, he fails and laughs anyway. He clutches his chest and groans. In an attempt to comfort himself, Jesse turns over onto his side and hugs his knees to his chest. Hanzo's face scrunches up and stays that way until finally, the sneeze that was tickling his nose makes it's way out. Hanzo pinches his nose and lurches up off the floor by an inch or two.

Jesse throws the box of tissues back at him, “Damn it, stop holdin’ ya’ nose shut!”

“Your brain is gonna come out of your ears if you keep doing that.”

Hanzo places his offending hand back onto his chest, “God I hope so.”

Now you’re done, “Wow, okay. The both of you need to shut up, eat, and take your damn medication. With at least three glasses of water!”

Jesse whines, “But Sugar, I don’t have the strength teh’ get up in tinkle right now.”

“You have to drink water! This is non-negotiable!”

Jesse tries to cower into the couch and grumbles, “Yes ma’am.”

It takes three hours and a whole lot of patience to them to do what you want. Eventually, the food is eaten, medication is taken, and the water has been drank. They’ve both knocked out and Jesse has completely disappeared into his mass of blankets. Hanzo, who is always a heavy sleeper, is dead to the world. But still, doesn't have a single blanket or pillow. You take this opportunity to slip a pillow under his head, and place a thin blanket over him. This isn’t how you had planned on spending your day today. Even with all of the nonsense, you’re not a bit upset about it. You’re happy to have people who need you. Even if they are currently being difficult, and dramatic children. When you are satisfied with the state of things, you get yourself a pillow and blanket. Then lie down in the space between the couch and Hanzo, and take a much-deserved nap.

#poly!hanzo/jesse #hanzo shimada #jesse mccree #jesse mccree x reader #hanzo shimada x reader #fluff #poutypanic writes

83 notes · View notes