#When McCree leaves us I cry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sporadically-writing · 2 years

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Since it Halloween season could you do head cannons with overwatch mcCree genji and mercy about there love who is a werewolf and they been trying to hide from them and when they transform the bones of sound like they’re breaking when asked about it they say that is used to the pain and they no cure for it and reader thought there lover would leave them because they didn’t think there love would wanna be with a monster

Sure! Always down for some spooky stuff! I know you said headcanons but these just came to me!

Cassidy

Cole had been walking home from the grocery store when it had happened. He had been gone for a handful of days and figured he’d do something nice on his way home. The only problem with this was by the time he had wrapped up and finally made his way to your shared home, it was dark. Well, not dark.

The full moon had seen to that.

Cole had always liked full moons when he was a kid, thought they were probably the nicest thing to look at. That changed a bit when he met you. Now it was second.

He had snuck inside the house, cursing himself when the screen door swung back a little too quickly, closing his eyes and wincing at the loud crashing sound.

Well, you were probably awake now thanks to that.

“Come on Cole, try a little harder” he had whispered to himself. He took at deep breath and walked in, making his way quickly to the kitchen. He set the groceries down and called, “Darlin’ I’m home!”

No response. Hm.

“Sweetheart? I’m sorry about the door! We can try fixin’ it tomorrow huh? I got ice cream!”

Nothing again.

Okay, now he was starting to get worried. Something was definitely wrong. Neither of you were heavy sleepers. He understood why he was like that, the amount of time he spent in the Deadlock Gang and then Blackwatch after, those walks of life don’t exactly lead to heavy sleeping. He never quite understood why you were the same though. He never asked you, figured you might not want to talk about. Especially after how jumpy you seemed to get every once and a while.

Cole checked every room in the house and could not find hide nor hair of you. This wasn’t good. He knew he hasn’t been home and he had planned on making his trip home a surprise, there was no reason that you had to be home right now and it would have been wild if you would have called to tell him where you were. Maybe that was it, maybe you were just out.

He had one place left to check though. He stepped outside, looking around the perimeter of the small farmhouse. Nothing.

He was all set to go back inside and bounce his knee sitting on the couch, when he heard it.

A cry of pain and the snap of something sounding like bone coming from the barn.

It wasn’t really a barn, more of a small glorified shed than anything else.

There was no mistaking it, that was your voice crying out in pain and Cole Cassidy would be damned to Hell and back if he didn’t do something about it. He rushed to the doors, using his robotic arm to rip the lock and chain off the door. Had someone locked you in there? It didn’t really matter who or what had done what to you in that moment. Whatever it was, Cole was going to put a stop to it.

He kicked the door down and was slightly surprised to see no one else in there with you. You were panting and chained up but otherwise there wasn’t a scratch on you.

“Darlin’?” Cole asked, rushing to your side.

“No! Wait!” You cried, shuffling away, hiding your face as quickly as you could. Oh god. Oh god, no. He wasn’t supposed to see you like this. Not yet. Not until you were ready to tell him.

Cole didn’t stop though, he stepped closer to you and stopped you with a hand on your cheek.

“Sweetheart, who did this to you? It’s gonna be okay, you’re safe now.”

You sighed. Damn it. Why did he have to be so sweet?

“I did this, love.”

“What?”

“It should be about done now, there’s a key under that rock over there, that’ll get me out of here. I’ll explain after.”

Cole gently lifted your head for a moment. He was planning on listening, he just wanted to see your face first. Everything about you was the same. That same wonderful face he had fallen in love with, except your eyes. Instead of their natural color, they were a fading shade of amber.

You frowned and he understood.

Once you were free, you gave him a hug, letting him know that you were okay and hopefully to make him feel a bit calmer about the situation.

“Soooooooo,” you began about as awkwardly as your probably could’ve, “I guess you’ve figured out by now... I’m a werewolf...”

“Darlin’ are you okay?”

“What?”

“Are you alright, honey?”

“I’m not crazy if that’s what you-”

“No!” he interrupted, “No. I don’t think you’re crazy. That wasn’t what I was trying to say. Are you alright, you sounded like you were in pain, sweetheart.”

“That’s cause I was.”

The blankness in your response broke his heart.

“Darlin’“ he whimpered.

“It’s okay. I’m used to it.” When he didn’t respond you continued, “And there isn’t a cure if that’s what you’re thinking next. I’ve tried just about everything. Half of them only made it worse.” You sighed again, “I tried to keep it a secret for so long. ‘Course I’d screw it up sooner or later...”

“Why would you hide this from me, pumpkin?”

“Because I didn’t want you to leave!” You said, tears beginning to well in your eyes, “Because I was scared that you would be just like everybody else. That... that you... wouldn’t see me anymore... just the monster.”

“Now you stop that right now.”

“What?”

Cole scooted closer and closed the distance between the two of you grabbing your shoulders, “You are NOT a monster, do you understand me? However you got this, it isn’t your fault. Wouldn’t see you anymore, how could I not? I think about you all the time, darlin.’ You are smart, strong and braver than I could ever hope to be. I love you more than anything in this world, okay? And nothing, not even a little lycanthropy is gonna stop that, you hear me?”

Tears of a different kind started to flow from your eyes and Cole panicked.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Does it still hurt? Did I touch something I shouldn't've? Did I say something wrong?”

You finally had to shut him up with a kiss. “No. You said everything right.”

Genji

Genji had known you for a while, you happened to be one of Zenyatta’s students alongside him. You had gotten there a little bit after he did and the two of you hit it off (once he was a little more friendly that is).

He never asked you what you were there for, figuring that was personal. If you wanted to share it with him you would.

He wouldn’t find out until years later.

It was a particularly cold night outside the temple in Nepal. It was late, or was it early? Regardless of the grayness of descriptors for the time of night/morning it was, Genji had woken up.

Zenyatta’s teachings, though helpful in healing the anger the Shimada had felt as a result of what his family had done to him, did not stop the nightmares from coming. They did, however, offer means of winding down after one. Genji had taken to taking walks after his nightmares, he found they cleared his head and given his armored body, the temperatures didn’t really effect him as they probably should.

He had taken a nice, soothing walk around the grounds, breathing easier in the cold night air and enjoying the beauty of the untouched snow at night. He was also entertaining himself with thoughts of you. You see, the two of you had been engaging in tentative little courtship for the past year. The two of you were close to something, you were just focused on healing yourselves first.

Genji, despite the nightmare that had woken him, was having a relatively nice night. That was, until he found some tracks in the snow.

They were strange, larger than any foot prints he had ever seen. They were also staggered strangely, as if the being they belonged to was in a great deal of pain. Genji quickly grabbed his weapons, just in case, and followed the prints where the led.

They led to the mouth of a cave, the tracks stopping as soon as they reached the covered rock floor. Whatever made the tracks was inside. He was debating whether or not he should go inside to investigate when he heard a scream.

It was your’s.

He rushed into action immediately, acting more on instinct than anything else, and charged into the cave.

He found you relatively quickly, you had not hidden yourself very well, assuming no one would follow you and, to be fair to yourself, dealing with quite a bit of pain.

“Y/N?” Genji asked, rushing toward you.

“No! Stay away from me!”

He paused but did not move away.

“You weren’t supposed to know.”

The transformation was mostly finished at this point, but there was no way Genji didn’t see at least enough to know the truth.

“I wasn’t supposed to know what?” he asked.

“That I’m cursed. That no matter how hard I try to heal, I will always be a beast.”

Genji sighed sadly, placing a hand softly on your shoulder. He pressed the button on the side of his mask and took it off, revealing his eyes. He looked serious.

He stared at you intensely and said, “Y/N, I’m a cyborg.”

Whatever tension you had tried to maintain, was broken instantly.

“What?” you asked, laughing slightly.

You were so caught up in your own miserable situation, coming off basically getting hit by a train with the amount of pain you usually went through, that you had never expected him to say that.

And the mischief in Genji’s eyes was enough to tell you that he also knew that.

Genji laughed as a smile you couldn’t see reached his eyes. “We all come here for our own reasons. All of us need to heal in one way or another. There is no time limit on how long it is supposed to take you. You will get there eventually, it will simply take time. And,” he added, “there is nothing wrong about your abilities. I think it’s cool! I wish I could turn into a dragon!”

“Alright,” you chuckled, “you’ve made your point.”

“Let’s get you out of the cold,” he said, noticing your shivers.

Mercy

For reasons unknown to Angela, you would never accept her as your doctor for checkups. You would always request Ana to check on you and patch you up. Angela didn’t have any reason to find this suspicious and she wasn’t even bothered by it really. She just figured you’d rather have Ana watch over you so she wouldn’t worry.

You always told her she worried too much. She couldn’t really help it though, she loved you and she wanted to make sure you were okay. You would do the same for her.

Things were a little shaky for the two of you sometimes. You had been a Blackwatch agent back in the day and despite all odds, the two of you found your way into a cozy little relationship. Angela always thought that it was Blackwatch’s worst kept secret that they really were a bunch of softies. Nothing wrong with that though. She loved it.

After the Swiss Base Incident, the two of you didn’t see each other for a long time. You both had tried to find each other when everything went haywire but you were both forced to evacuate before finding the other.

Now that the two of you had each other back, it was hard not to be at least a little worried about the other.

That translates into the field as well.

You both had been sent on the same mission along with a few other agents. The intel had been good on the outset. However, you found out that Murphy’s Law is constantly in effect no matter how well laid your plans are.

You and Angela had gotten yourselves separated from the rest of your team, and, just to make matters so much worse, you were nearly surrounded. The cherry on top too, you could hear your allies calling frantically for your help over the comms. One of them was down.

Weighing your options, you knew you really only had one card to play right now. Angela needed to get out of here and without a distraction, you knew that she couldn’t.

“Angela,” you told her, “You need to go.”

“What? What about you?!”

“I’ll be fine! Get to safety! I’ll meet up with you all when we’re done!”

“der Liebling, I’m not leaving you!”

You sighed out, looked back at her softly before you’re voice shifted. “Please, go!” The yell that came from you sounded much more like a growl by the time you were finished with it. Hair had already started growing on your arms.

Angela gasped but got the message and she escaped while you and the abilities gained by your painful transformation covered her.

Once you had changed back you met back with the team as promised. Your quick thinking saved the mission actually. You couldn’t bare to look Mercy in the eyes though. Regardless of how much she heard after she made her escape, she still knew the truth about you.

Angela was grateful, despite you not speaking with you at the moment, that you didn’t refuse her help this time. She checked you over, nursing what injuries were needed and then she left you be. You weren’t sure if you were grateful or not.

As soon as you were back on base and as soon as she had the opportunity however, Angela grabbed you (she is surprisingly strong for her size, must be handling unruly patients) and dragged you into a room, standing in front of the door.

“Are we going to talk about what happened?” The voice she used to ask the question was firm but not unkind. She wasn’t going to force you to tell her but she made it clear that she wanted an answer.

“I’ve been trying to keep it a secret for a reason, love.”

“Why?” she asked, sweeter, sadder, this time.

“Why?” you asked, incredulous, “Because I’m a monster? Because I’m something we tell children about to scare them into behaving? Because of what O’Deorain’s experiments made me? What more do you need?”

Angela was quiet for a long moment, you would almost describe it as surgical, the way she was handling the situation. She knew you well enough by now that your mood right now was very fragile and she did not want to make you feel any worse than you already did. Quite the opposite actually.

Angela sat down next to you, not touching you yet. She wasn’t afraid, she just wanted to make sure you weren’t.

“Would a monster come back after all this time to ensure they made a positive difference in the world? Would a monster be as loving to their friends as you are?” she paused for a beat before, “Would a monster have given me the chance to save someone else?”

You heart ached in a good way as you smiled at the doctor. You reached for her hand and brought it up to cup your cheek.

“Thank you love.”

“You’re not nearly as scary as you think you are, schatz.”

The two of you dissolved into laughter, you stopping only momentarily to kiss Angela’s cheek.

Happy Halloween!

#cole cassidy x reader #cassidy x reader #mccree x reader #jesse mccree x reader #genji x reader #genji shimada x reader #mercy x reader #angela ziegler x reader #overwatch x reader #overwatch 2 x reader #x reader #headcanons #overwatch headcanons #imagines #overwatch imagines #werewolf!reader #spooky prompt

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yeehanfrf · 1 year

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Week 1 Recs: One Shot, One Kill

The Week 1 Fic Rec Friday theme was "One Shot, One Kill," or fics that clock in under 10,000 words. Here are all the bite-sized fics recommended by the Yeehan community, organized by rating, then alphabetically by title.

General Audience

A Dragon's Treasure by SetsunaNoroi [5,958 words] Reccer comment: "It's a bit of comfort read; short, sweet, humourous, charming, and hits a lot of what I enjoy reading in a YH fic."

Hanzo can't help himself in developing feelings for Jesse McCree, but that doesn't mean he has to share them. With his sins, he is better off alone but still he can't help but want him. It should be fine as long as he just never says anything. Unfortunately his dragons have different ideas and keep trying to lay claim on the cowboy. Mostly McCree is just confused.

In Hot Pursuit by AsheRhyder [3,928 words] Reccer comment: "Loser man Cassidy fumbling the bag with Hanzo ft. Papa Reaps."

Cassidy can flirt, but he's never had someone actually take him up on the offers his silver tongue makes.

Hanzo is determined to win whatever game they're playing, especially when the prize is a flustered cowboy.

Gabriel and Jack just want to play cards.

To Grow Old Together (Is the Ultimate Declaration of Love) by PlanetaryRose [697 words] Reccer comment: "v short but v v sweet"

“I don’t just love you Jesse, I adore you, you are my heart but it is more than that. I want to spend the rest of my days with you, to grow old with you and have you forever by my side and in my arms.

You consume me in every way, mind, body, and soul. I would spend the rest of my days with you, dedicate my life to you.”

Teen and Up

Dreamlike by mataglap [4,063 words] Reccer comment: "4,063 words of achingly sweet fluff!"

Hanzo is used to bad dreams, and he never would have expected that a good dream would end up haunting him the most.

Finding Home, Building Home by coinin [1,975 words] Reccer comment: "rly sweet slice of yeehan, punches u in the face in under 2k words!"

It's taken a while, helped along by teammates, arguments about furniture, and quite a bit of cat hair, but Jesse's finally made a home.

Midway by robocryptid [2,329 words] Reccer comment: "2329 words that I go back to often because it hits a perfect balance between funny, sweet and romantic."

Cassidy and Hanzo go undercover at the fair to track a mark. Obviously they blend in best if everyone assumes they're a couple. It goes exactly how you think.

Silver Screen by DerpyMcButtface [1,990 words] Reccer comment: "Some people might hate me for recommending this one bc it’s SAD, but I really love the premise, and it’s VERY well written."

It's far, far in the future. The heroes are dead, old, or getting there fast. They're making movies now, about Overwatch, but not everyone's happy about that.

Mature

All the Love You Ever Get by SaltCore [3,387 words] Reccer comment: "3387 words to make you cry (mind the tags!)"

Some carry the last words they'll ever hear their soulmate say like a brand on their skin. Whether it's a blessing or a curse is for the philosophers to decide.

Hanzo, for his part, would rather fate had passed him by instead of leaving her mark.

Electric by mataglap [2,212 words] Reccer comment: "Caught up in a thunderstorm, gets spicy"

They get caught in a storm. Things get slightly out of control.

Fire from the Gods by Adolphus Longestaffe [1,372 words] Reccer comment: "very short but beautifully written"

Used to be every time he looked away you got afraid he didn’t love you no more. Now every time he breathes out you’re afraid he won’t breathe in again.

Shrimp Heaven Now by Liquid_Lyrium [5,916 words] Reccer comment: "utterly silly fun"

Hanzo is single-handedly trying to get them thrown out of every Red Lobster in town. McCree is just along for the ride.

Explicit

blisters by cosmicevil [3,141 words] Reccer comment: "A gut punch every time I read it"

Hanzo is going to figure it out.

Debriefing by MittenCrab [6,332 words] Reccer comment: "The scene from this fic haunts me (in a good way). I think about it quite a lot. 6332 words by MittenCrab. A lot of feelings. So many feelings."

“You did not debrief,” Hanzo says finally. It’s more a statement than a question.

[McCree’s mission goes badly when he crosses paths with Reaper - the man who was once everything to him. Wounded and frustrated, he meets Hanzo at one of their safe houses, where he discovers that debriefing can be a lot more fun than he’d previously imagined. (PWP)]

Familiar Habits by Philosophics [8,176 words]

After joining Overwatch, Hanzo finds it difficult to sleep some nights. It is nothing a hot cup of tea cannot fix, but he never expected that he would have company.

(or: hanzo is very thirsty, in more ways than one)

It Will Come Back by CorvidFightClub [3,434 words] Reccer comment: "3,434 words, it’s fuck or die with bonus werewolf :D"

McCree and Hanzo are captured by a gang somewhere in the American Midwest after a mission. The situation becomes more dire when Hanzo finds out the gang isn’t the only thing he has to worry about.

On the Mouth by super_duper [3,292 words] Reccer comment: "I always come back to this one bc it's such a perfect balance of virgin and manslut Hanzo"

Jesse and Hanzo have a thing. Jesse would like it to be more than a thing. Hanzo has a secret.

Slippage by robocryptid [1,389 words] Reccer comment: "some more angst with smut and questionable comfort in 1389 words"

Cassidy compartmentalizes. Hanzo knows it, because he does the same.

It’s supposed to be simple, and it’s anything but.

your good side by motorghost [2,053 words] Reccer comment: "this one by motorghost is so delicious!!!"

Hanzo feels himself changing because of Cole. There's lots of ways to thank him, but when you only have nightly webcam chats, your options are limited. Luckily Hanzo is more creative than Cole knows.

Thank you to everyone who sent in a recommendation! Keep an eye out for next week's theme: "Feel-Good Hour," for all your heartwarming fluff needs!

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a-b-overwatch · 9 months

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Hi there!!!! I absolutely love this blog this is one of my favorite prompts/AU's. Could I get Mccree in his rut and being v needy/annoying his transman omega who hasn't transitioned? (So like he/him pronouns but still has the bits) Hope this is ok!!

trans s/o LETSGOPOG

i’ll be using male terminology for the reader’s parts, if i do use it at all!

Under a cut as usual!

You hear his whine before you smell him.

It’s insistent, pitching up at just the end like how a sad puppy’s does. Deliberately, you flip to the next page of your book, barely giving him a glance. The gesture provokes a soft noise of despair, and you hear the mighty heave of someone getting out of a chair.

Soon enough, a shadow casts itself over you, blocking out the warm light overhead.

Your next inhale brings with it a mouthwatering scent - rich, buttery cocoa and smoky whiskey. Of course, underneath that is something electric, something addictive that makes something deep in your brain light up. Not one to give in so easily, you only scoot over just enough to leave a snug space between your back and the armrest. Your companion seizes the invitation instantly, slotting himself into his new spot and draping himself against your back.

“Darlin’…”

There’s a soft breathiness to his voice as he begs quietly against your ear, and you feel the warmth of his large, calloused hand slipping underneath your shirt. It’s hard not to shiver when you feel it wandering, gently caressing your stomach before dipping down to run along the waistband of your boxers - sorry, his boxers, but they’re pretty much yours now.

Something hard is pressing insistently against your back, but you choose not to acknowledge it. Instead, you let yourself enjoy the feeling of his warm, solid body against yours.

“Cole Cassidy. I’m reading,” you reply, tone chiding. You make a point to flip the page noisily, still not acknowledging what he was clearly struggling not to grind against you.

“I know, pumpkin. I’m sorry- it’s just-” he cuts off, and you feel the scratch of his beard against your neck as he buries his face in it and takes a deep sniff. The low, guttural groan he instantly lets out sends a flash of heat through you, and you bite your lip when you feel your body start to heat up in response. The space between your thighs begins to grow wet, and you grunt out a moan when he shoves his dick against your back.

“F-Fuck- smell so good, darlin’- can I- can I-”

Cassidy is drooling, you feel it soak into your shirt. Rolling your eyes, you take his hand and before he can respond, slide it into your boxers. The feeling of your slick on his fingers makes a guttural cry tumble from his lips, and he thrusts once, twice, before managing to bring himself back under control. You can feel how badly he’s trembling, feel precum leaking through his underwear and starting to soak into the back of your shirt. Still, you decide to tease him a little bit more, reaching back with a free hand to gently pet through his brown locks.

“Don’t you need to prep me first? Make sure I’m all stretched out so I can take your knot like your good omega?” Your tone is deceptively innocent, engineered to appeal to the instincts roiling inside your alpha.

Cassidy whines again, gasping out a soft swear as his prosthetic hand grasps at your thigh. The metal thrums warm against your skin, and with the way it trembles minutely tells you that Cassidy is struggling to stay mindful of his strength. You smirk. Cassidy always did try to be a gentleman in situations like these.

The smug expression drops from your face when you feel two thick fingers push into you, stretching you instantly. Your hands scramble for purchase at the sudden intrusion, heat pooling even lower in your gut. The reaction makes Cassidy pause, so you roll your hips against his hand - a signal for him to go ahead. Your alpha returns to his task, but not before reverently whispering his gratitude, warm lips pressing against the back of your neck. It’s clear that Cassidy’s desperate as he preps you, hand shaking as his fingers pump in and out.

Wet, obscene noises soon fill the intimate space between the both of you. With how slick everything feels, there’s no doubt that Cassidy’s hand and your boxers are soaked. Even without looking, Cassidy’s excitement is clear. Heavy pants blow hot puffs of air against your skin, and you hear him swallow before letting out a low, soft groan. Suddenly, his thumb moves to press against your dick, and you barely have time to react before he starts to rub little circles into the soft nub. Fuck, it feels good, way too good.

“Cass- stop-” you gasp out, reaching to still his arm. From where you’ve tipped your head back, you can see the devastated look on his face, but to his credit, his fingers stop moving, leaving you craving for more.

“’S sum’n wrong, darlin’? Why-” His words are slurred, clearly a sign of his rut starting to affect his mind. Before he can finish his question, you lean up to shush him with a kiss, smiling when you smell the way his scent sweetens.

Pulling back, you press a finger to his lips before dragging your hand down, hooking your thumb into the waistband of your boxers and tugging, giving Cassidy a full view of the very thing he wanted.

“Well? Don’t keep me waiting.”

#cassidy #overwatch #omegaverse #nsft #ftm reader #scenario #trans readers are very close to my heart i hope all my trans siblings r doing good!!

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logmosswrites · 3 years

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That Hum of Night

Fandom: Overwatch

Pairing: Hanzo Shimada x fem!reader x Jesse McCree

Words: 4k

Warning: NSFW! 18+ only. Definitely PWP, wet dreams, BDSM dynamics, Dom Hanzo and Jesse, Sub reader, dirty talk, humiliation/degredation (verbal and otherwise), praise kink, nipple play, dry humping, rope bondage, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, orgasm delay/denial, vibrator use, unsafe sex, creampie, oral sex/cunnilingus, come marking, aftercare. No y/n.

Author's note: cross posted to AO3.

There was nothing but heat. No up, no down, no world at all outside of the bodies pressed against yours. Your legs parted to make room for them, urging them closer still with every whimper and moan rolling off of your lips. You were hopelessly desperate, open and dripping for anything that would fill you. Fingers lazily fucked you open, joining a writhing tongue inside of your pussy. Hanzo and Jesse were everywhere all at once, sating your hunger as quickly as it appeared. Their mouths claimed every inch of skin they could find, the hot flash of teeth and tongue on your neck leaving you to gasp for air. You thrust your hips forward, shame long abandoned to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. Please, you begged, just at the precipice of orgasm. Suddenly, deft fingers latched onto your aching clit, hard and punishing; you rocked with them, winding tighter and tighter until-

You woke up.

Slowly, the world came back to you, trickling in like a leaking faucet. Your mouth was dry; your heart pounded in your ears. You felt overheated, damp with sweat where you were sandwiched between Jesse and Hanzo- oh shit, Jesse and Hanzo .

“Sweetheart?”

And there was Jesse.

He was leaning over you, lit up by the moonlight filtering in through the curtains. Bracing yourself, you looked into his eyes, surprised to find concern instead of the amusement you expected.

“Are you alright, darlin’? It looked like you were having a pretty intense nightmare, there.”

Wait- nightmare?

“You nearly pushed me off of the bed,” interjected Hanzo from behind you, voice betraying his worry. It was only then that you noticed the rumpled blankets, piled up where you had tried to kick them off. Shit.

In response, you simply rolled over and tucked your flaming face into Jesse’s chest, unwilling to correct their conclusion. Jesse allowed this for a moment, but soon took your chin in hand, forcing you to look at him. “Hey, now, you don’t have to hide from me–from us. There’s no shame in bein’ a little shook up by a bad dream, sweetheart. Hell, even I get scared by what my brain decides to cook up sometimes,” the man said, sealing his words with a kiss to your forehead. You felt a tiny bit of guilt gnaw at you as he settled back down onto his side, bleary eyes watching yours for any sign of distress. But it wasn’t really lying, right? How would they ever even find out?

“Come here,” said Hanzo, snaking his arm around your waist. You went freely, fighting a shiver as you felt his familiar body conform to yours. “You are safe, my love,” he whispered, “in this bed, you are safe.” With that, your boyfriend pressed his lips to your neck, ghosting over it as he had in your fantasy. Your body reacted accordingly, hips rolling forward and a gasp hitching in your chest. You slapped a hand over your mouth, but it was too late; the room was fraught with tension, none of you daring to even breathe. Well, fuck.

“Sweetheart-”

“I-”

Silence once again.

“Do you need us to sleep somewhere else, darlin’? It’s alright if-”

“No!” you exclaimed, eyes wide. Jesse searched your face for the truth, scrutinizing your awkward expression. You avoided meeting his eyes, shifting under the weight of Hanzo’s arm. Slowly, the cowboy seemed to put two and two together, lips pulling together into a dimpled smirk.

“Hanzo, I don’t think our baby girl had a nightmare."

Kill me, kill me, kill me, you chanted inside of your head, feeling Hanzo’s grip tighten as he caught up to the idea. For a split second, you considered actually lying, dismissing it just as quickly when you saw Jesse's smirk turn devilish.

"Is that true, beloved?” Hanzo asked, breath warm on your ear, “Are you trying to hide something from us?”

This time, you couldn’t suppress your shiver. Damn, Hanzo and Jesse knew just how to play you.

“You naughty little slut,” admonished Jesse, “Let’s see how wet you are under those panties of yours.” Lightning-quick, the man reached under the covers, hooking his fingers into the offending piece of fabric. Viciously, he tore them down, yanking your knees forward in order to get them all the way off. Your breath caught in your throat as he brought your panties into the hazy light of the bedroom, showing off the soaked inner lining.

“Well, would ya look at that? Our baby girl made a mess of herself, Hanzo. What should we do about this?”

Holy shit, you were going to die, right here in this bed.

“I think,” spoke Hanzo, voice gravelly, “that we should make her clean it up.”

And fuck, if that didn’t make you even wetter. Jesse considered you for a moment, eyes gaining a ferocious gleam as he noticed your quickly-growing arousal. Without preamble, he pushed your underwear into your mouth, wrapping them around two of his thick fingers. Instantly, you began to suck, tongue working around the cloth. Jesse pushed deeper and deeper in response, nearly activating your gag reflex. As it was, your eyes swam with tears, barely able to make out your boyfriend’s face turning deathly serious as he concentrated on you. Hanzo, unwilling to be left out, began to knead his hands into your flesh, pulling your sleep shirt up in order to play with your quickly hardening nipples. His scorching-hot mouth then sank onto your skin once more, lavishing your neck with kisses. You could hardly think, hardly breathe. Desperate sounds came from deep in your chest, muffled by Jesse’s unrelenting fingers.

Minutes, or maybe hours, flew by before your panties were taken from your mouth. You drew in a greedy breath, panting from sheer desire. God, how much more could you take? You were positively soaked at this point, aching with a need for friction. You knew better than to try and seek your own release, yet you still gasped when Hanzo snatched your hands away from your throbbing clit, reprimanding you with a harsh bite to the shoulder. A hoarse cry tore from your throat, reverberating loudly in the dark bedroom.

“You,” drawled Jesse, “have been a bad, bad girl, princess. First, you made a fucking mess of your panties, which you tried to hide from us. Then, you went and played with your tight little pussy even when you know you’re not allowed to. I think you’ve earned yourself a punishment, slut.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck , that could mean anything. Punishments from Hanzo and Jesse were rare, but you knew you were in deep, deep shit regardless. And if his predatory grin was any indication, Jesse knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Hanzo, put her on her back. I want her begging by the time I’ve finished tying her up.”

With that, your world was disoriented, your view changing to that of Hanzo’s face right above yours. You felt more than saw Jesse getting off of the bed, quickly distracted by your other lover smothering you with a savage kiss. You did your best to reciprocate, but you were no match for Hanzo’s overwhelming influence. You could feel his hard cock pressing into your thigh where he straddled you, covered only by his cotton briefs. Before you could even think about moving your hands towards it, though, they were captured once more and pressed up above your head; holy shit, Hanzo moved fast.

“What a little whore,” Hanzo spoke, finally allowing you to draw in a breath, “So desperate for cock, you poor thing. How did you ever survive before we came along?”

Jesus Christ.

Hanzo, satisfied by your stunned silence, turned back to the task at hand, finally tearing off your shirt and sucking hickeys onto your bare chest. His goatee was coarse against your feverish skin as you rose up to meet him, writhing beneath his iron grip. You threw your head back, only opening your eyes when you felt Jesse grabbing your now-unoccupied wrist. In his other hand you saw a length of red rope, a frequent addition to your bedroom activities.

“Color?” Jessie asked, momentarily abandoning his dominating façade. Hanzo paused as well, considering you like he might consider his bow; serious and straightforward. You sucked in a deep breath, stomach swooping in anticipation when you croaked out a confident “green”.

With that, you were pulled back into Hanzo’s blazing inferno, hands and teeth and tongue setting your skin aflame. As Jesse maneuvered your wrist into a complicated cuff pattern, Hanzo took hold of your nipples once more, rolling one between his fingers as the other was caught between his teeth. Christ above, it was like someone had injected fire straight into your veins.

“You likin’ that, baby girl?” Came Jesse’s voice, off to the other side now and distinctly smug. You sent him a glare, tempered by the heady sensation of satiny rope being pulled against your sensitive skin. Jesse merely winked back, his roguish attitude written all over his relaxed-yet-confident posture. With one final flourish of the cowboy’s fingers, your hands were firmly tied to the headboard, spreading out to either side of you in a comfortable stretch of your shoulders. Before you could get too settled, however, Hanzo was moving his rough, calloused hands towards your hips–with a jerk, you were pulled flush against him, his erection just barely grazing your sex. Two forearms planted themselves next to your head, decisively caging you in.

“Jesse, tie her up like this. I want to make sure we have plenty of room to fuck her without restraint.”

God. You couldn’t believe Hanzo’s mouth.

“You got it, boss,” Jesse replied easily, taking your ankle in his hand. Heat curled low in your gut as your legs were spread wide by the cowboy’s unyielding grip, exposing you to Hanzo’s hungry gaze. The heat multiplied as Hanzo adjusted his hips, your own twitching up to meet him halfway. Yes, yes, yes, you thought, nearly salivating in anticipation. Slowly, ever so slowly, the archer began to roll his pelvis against yours, finally giving you the friction you had been craving. It was heaven; it was perfect. Hanzo steadily began to increase his rhythm, grunts of pleasure growing louder and louder along with your punched-out gasps. The man loved to do this with you, spending hours grinding on you as you cuddled to watch a movie or even as you were falling asleep in his arms.

“That’s it, beloved. Can you feel my cock? Do you want it?” Frantically, you nodded, head swimming in a slurry of arousal and desperation. “Then beg for it, you whore.”

Fuck. You could barely think a coherent word, much less say them–but you tried anyway, panting a quiet oh and yes and please as sweetly as you could. The archer only gave a noncommittal sigh in response, clearly unimpressed by your performance.

“How disappointing, Jesse; it sounds as though our little whore doesn’t want to be fucked after all,” came Hanzo's patronizing voice, sinking low in your stomach–the man never made empty threats, especially in the bedroom. A teasing slip of Jesse’s hand set you to begging, words tumbling past your lips before you could even process them. “God, please, please, Hanzo, fuck, Jesse, please, fuck me!” you cried, pleading your case in a way that could make a porn star blush. After a moment of stunned silence, all three of you came back to your senses.

“Fuck,” Jesse snarled, chest heaving. “Fuck.”

In a flurry of motion, he was tying you off, finishing the cuff on your other ankle; then he was diving towards you, capturing your mouth with his in an animalistic mix of lips and teeth. Small, possessive noises issued from the cowboy’s throat, buzzing on your tongue like the bubbles of a sweet champagne. A scorching hand burned down the lines of your body, setting your newly-formed bruises alight with sensation. You shivered in anticipation–you wanted, needed Jesse and Hanzo inside of you now.

All thinking stopped, however, when deft fingers finally reached your oversensitive clit; you jackknifed upwards, breaking your kiss with Jesse. Your hips bucked under Hanzo’s weight as you gulped in air, starving for oxygen and touch in equal measure.

“That’s it, slut,” Jesse said, voice rigid. His eyes were positively wild, stormy with need from where he was hovering over you. A glance at Hanzo’s face revealed much of the same. You imagined that this is what it must feel like to be a ship in a storm, to be something so small in comparison to nature’s unparalleled power. You opened your mouth in silent prayer as Jesse’s fingers laved over your sopping cunt, dragging them over your lips like the pages of a book. Without warning, he slipped two thick fingers inside of you, stretching you open while working his thumb in small circles over your clit. Oh, God. Your dream couldn’t even begin to compare to the actual feeling of Jesse’s hand, moving in and out with enough force to rock your whole body. Lewd noises filled your ears, setting off yet another round of sparks fizzling through you. A familiar surge of pleasure began to crescendo in the pit of your stomach, drawing out more breathless whimpers from somewhere high in your throat. However, just before you could reach your orgasm, Jesse’s thumb slipped from your throbbing clit, leaving you to clench around his fingers to no avail. Fuck, fuck, no! Just a little more...

Your eyes opened to meet Jesse’s face, finding that his impish smirk had slipped back on.

“Awww, darlin’, ya look so sad,” the man teased, crooking his fingers just to make you whine. “Don’t worry though, we’re just getting started…”

Equal measures of excitement and dread shot through you at his words. Hanzo and Jesse, while loving boyfriends, knew exactly how to push every single one of your buttons; in short, they could be assholes. Beautiful, sexy, lovable assholes. Paying your trepidation no heed, Jesse withdrew his hand from your hole, leaving you empty and shivering. Jesus, you were a mess.

“Wanna taste?” Jesse asked–but he wasn’t talking to you. No, he was offering his hand to Hanzo, who regarded the cowboy with relentless heat in his gaze. A silent something passed between them, before Hanzo was leaning in and taking the slick digits in his mouth, staring into Jesse’s eyes the entire time.

“Good, right?” Jesse said, voice gravelly once more. Hanzo simply hummed in response, before withdrawing once again. Another tense moment slipped by, in which it got harder and harder to remember how to breathe. Jesse’s eyes flicked downwards, then back up to Hanzo, seeming to ask a question; nearly imperceptibly, the archer nodded, drawing in a short breath when Jesse’s hand moved down to grasp the hem of his underwear. You bit your lip as Hanzo’s cock was revealed, red and leaking at the tip. With just a touch of Jesse’s fingers, precum was dripping onto your stomach, increasing your own arousal tenfold. Leisurely, the cowboy began to jerk Hanzo off, grip loose and taunting.

“Look at our girl, Hanzo,” Jesse commanded, swiping his thumb over the other man’s cockhead. “Look at how fuckin’ desperate she is for you”.

Hanzo’s eyes snapped to yours, and you felt the full weight of his attention crash down on you– fuck, he looked feral, lips pressed in a snarl and dark hair falling just past his chin. You couldn’t help but look away, feeling suffocated by Hanzo’s gaze; however, a metallic hand grasped your cheeks, wrenching your head back to look at your powerful lovers above you.

“Eyes up here, slut,” Jesse reprimanded, “I want you to watch him as he ruins that pussy of yours, understood?” You nodded. “Good. And don’t you fuckin’ dare cum before I tell you to, or else I’ll edge you for a week straight, got it?” Another nod, and he finally relinquished his hold on you, leaving a dull pain that you hoped would flower into bruises.

As you were told, you kept your eyes trained on Hanzo’s face, watching his eyes flutter as his cock was guided to your entrance. Once, twice, he slipped out, before he was slowly pushing in, inch by inch. God, he filled you perfectly. Finally, as Hanzo sank completely into you, Jesse relinquished his hold, stepping away to admire how the archer curved around you like a great beast getting ready to devour a meal. Arms shaking, Hanzo fell onto his elbows for support, hot breath sweeping over your face. He was close enough now that you could see beads of sweat beginning to form on his brow. You were the only one who got to see Hanzo like this, aside from Jesse–it was a fact that never seemed to get old, no matter how many times you had joined him in bed. Equally as tantalizing was the slide of his cock inside of you, beginning to move in short, calculated thrusts. Instinctively, you clenched down, earning a warning glare from Hanzo–but you were already in trouble, weren’t you? What would be the harm in doing a little teasing of your own?

Staring Hanzo in the eye, you purposely flexed your muscles once more, feeling a hot rush of slick slowly drip out of you. In a momentary lapse of control, Hanzo buried his head into your shoulder, letting out a strangled moan. You couldn’t keep from responding with a shit-eating grin, putting Jesse’s own signature smirk to shame. However, your expression dropped as you caught Hanzo’s thunderous face, towering over you as he rose back onto his hands and knees.

Oh, shit.

“You. Worthless. Whore. ” the man hissed, jaw clenched, “It seems as though you need to be reminded of your place.”

With surgical precision, Hanzo bottomed out inside of you, pausing for just a moment before retreating once again. Another thrust, and it was clear that your self-control would be pushed to the limit; already, you were falling apart, legs shaking from the sheer effort it took to hold back your orgasm. But Hanzo took no mercy on you, setting a steady rhythm that had you moaning helplessly. Fuck, this was getting difficult-

“Jesse, bring me the vibrator.”

God fucking dammit, you thought, your stomach dropping. Without so much as a stutter in his hips, Hanzo took the wand from Jesse’s outstretched hand, watching you intently as he nestled it right next to your clitoris. Your eyes flickered between the two sights, drinking in the sheer power your lover held over you. Then, with a click of a button, you were straining upwards, feeling as though you were being wrenched straight out of your body. Another click, and the vibrations grew even more intense; you longed to bury your hand in Hanzo’s hair, to scratch your nails across his muscled back, to do anything but sit there and take it. Each breath you drew in was cut off by the next, a staccato beat matching the rhythm of your racing pulse. You were close, so close that you could taste it on your tongue– shit!

“Did you really think I would let you cum, slut?” Hanzo asked, still thrusting in and out of your hole without care. Your whole body shuddered helplessly, hypersensitive after being denied once again. As you attempted to catch your breath, Hanzo reached down and twisted your swollen nipple, forcing you to lock eyes with him.

“I asked you a question, whore; answer me,” the archer commanded, practically growling, “Do you think you deserve to cum on my cock?” As if to punctuate his question, Hanzo slammed his hips forward, fucking you hard enough to pull against the ties at your ankles.

“Fuck! No!” you screamed, on the verge of tears. Your voice was wrecked with desperation, hoping beyond hope that the teasing would be over soon. However, you were soon at the mercy of the vibrator once again, letting out a whine at the feeling of it on your tortured clit. Hanzo sped up his pace, sitting up on his knees to watch every inch of your thoroughly marked body writhe underneath him. “That is right, you cumwhore. You do not deserve the honor of an orgasm at my hand. You are lucky that I am willing to fuck you in the first place.”

The vibrator was shut off once more, and you humped against it frantically, reserve long abandoned. “Go ahead, you stupid whore,” Hanzo encouraged, “Humiliate yourself. I want to see how pathetic you look when you cry.” A sob flew from your lips as the toy buzzed to life, only to be shut off seconds later, then turned on again, a sadistic pattern that made your hips jump and stutter on Hanzo’s cock. You could feel the archer’s perfect rhythm begin to falter, signaling his quickly-approaching climax; his moans burned hot on your skin, sending wave after wave of throbbing pleasure through your trembling body. Finally, you felt Hanzo seize up, almost uncannily still in the wake of his orgasm. Scorching cum flooded your hole, arousing enough to make your battered walls flutter with desire. A few heartbeats later, and Hanzo was crashing back down over you, gulping in air like a dying man. Tenderly, he pressed his sweaty forehead against yours, love and awe written in his furrowed brows and slackened mouth. As he breathed against you, you could feel your own hitching breaths slow, agonising desire fading just slightly into a dull roar.

Two pairs of hands whispered over your body, freeing your limbs from their confines, massaging the marks imprinted upon you by the ropes. You felt yourself float away just a little, untethered by chaste kisses pressed to your cheeks and soft hands stroking your thighs. Hanzo’s shifting body weight brought you back to the present, where Jesse was taking his place between your legs; Hanzo unceremoniously flopped to the side, grace all but forgotten in his post-orgasm haze. Your eyes opened slowly to see Jesse looking down at you, positively fit to burst with quiet affection. You smiled back, tensed and eager all the same.

"Ya did so good, darlin'," Jesse said, tone far softer now, "So good for us. Are ya ready for your reward?"

The praise melted into your skin, smoothing the raw edges that had been so expertly laid bare by Hanzo. With a simple nod, Jesse leaned in to kiss you once more, as slow and saccharine as honey. You embraced him in return, palms gliding over the coarse and ruddy plains of his cheeks; you felt like you were glowing from the inside out. Like a wave drawing across the sand, Jesse retreated, hands whispering down to your thighs. The rest of his body followed close behind, settling down between your legs with practiced ease.

"So beautiful, sweetheart," Jesse praised, "I can't wait to make you cum."

And there it was again, the knife's edge of hot desire. Almost subconsciously, you weaved your hands through Jesse's locks, giving them a tug. Jesse groaned deep in his chest, rekindling the flames in your gut. Your cowboy was so responsive. You pulled his hair again, set alight as Jesse muffled his moans into your sweat-soaked thigh.

“You’re gonna kill me, darlin’,” Jesse threatened, kissing his way towards your drenched pussy. A witty retort died in your throat as his tongue flattened against your swollen lips, lapping at the obscene mixture of cum and slick slowly dripping out of you. “Fuck,” you breathed, struck senseless by the hot-wet pleasure of Jesse’s plush mouth. An answering groan rang in your ears as the cowboy finally dipped his writhing tongue into your hole, drinking in the lewd slurry with feverish dedication. Your hands tightened into fists, pulling Jesse further and further in until his nose was pressed flat against your pussy. You whined; a sharpness ran through you along with pleasure, heightening each in a whirlwind of sensation.

Breathless, Jesse pulled back for a moment, sucking in air like a drowning man. In the low light, you could just make out the shine of your slick soaking the cowboy’s goatee–holy shit, that’s hot. Then, with fervor, Jesse was back to it, making you yelp as he latched onto your clit. You ground against him, his tongue sending shockwaves up and down your body; you were shaking with the oh-god-too-much of it all. Every inhale was a battle. Every movement made you see stars. Then, finally, finally, Jesse tore himself from your body, looking you in the eye as he said, “Cum for me, sweetheart."

You felt the command flow through you, breaking down walls and crashing into your nervous system. Jesse bent his head and sucked your clit hard, bringing you to the very edge once again. Mmm-hmm, mmm-hmm, he encouraged you, nearly whimpering; he was bucking his hips, and fuck, fuck, fuck, shit! You were cumming into Jesse’s mouth, vision whited out by a dazzling starburst. Your legs crashed into the cowboy’s face, pinning him to your gushing pussy as you rode out your orgasm; your whole body was spasming, uncontrollable with pleasure. Then, like a puppet cut loose, you were limp, releasing Jesse from your death grip.

The cowboy shot to his knees, ripping his boxers off as fast as possible; his flushed cock was bared, aching and practically dripping precum. "Fuck, babygirl," he moaned, hand flying, "I'm gonna-fuck, I'm gonna cum!" A final groan, and Jesse was falling off the edge with you, release streaking against your rolling abdomen--followed quickly by Jesse actually falling on top of you.

"Holy shit," you laughed, "Get the hell off of me, you jerk!" A gargled mess that might have been a "no" was your only response for a moment, before the pile of sweat and various sexual fluids that was your boyfriend rolled off of you. You couldn't help but giggle at his dramatics--god, you loved your idiots. A moment of silence permeated the room, until you yawned; oh yeah, it's like three A.M...

"If you two are done, I believe it is time for some aftercare," said Hanzo, sounding equally as tired. With his help, you got up, only to fold in half from the sore feeling radiating through your pelvis--fucking fuck, you forgot how much of a bitch this could be. Seeing your discomfort, Hanzo scooped you up, carrying you to the en-suite bathroom. You heard Jesse follow you in, fetching a second set of sheets from the linens cabinet. Carefully, you were set by the toilet, Hanzo turning to allow you some privacy. After finishing your business, you were escorted to the shower, where the archer tenderly cleaned you off. From there, things got blurry--you vaguely remembered the smell of arnica cream, the feeling of a soothing wipe on your swollen lips, strong arms carrying you to bed, and a tender kiss placed on your forehead. Then, you were off to sleep, dreamless and peaceful.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Likes are appreciated, reblogs/comments keep me writing! Let me know what you thought, your favorite passage, or even what time you're reading this at (bonus points if it's 1 A.M. or later). Toodles! ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

#Jesse McCree #Hanzo Shimada #Jesse McCree x reader #Jesse McCree x reader smut #Hanzo Shimada x reader #Hanzo Shimada x reader smut #Jesse McCree x reader x Hanzo Shimada #mccree x reader #hanzo x reader #Smut #nsft text #nsft #fem!reader

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multi-fandom-imagine · 3 years

Text

Video Game One-Shots and Drabbles Master List.

-Drabbles are up to 300 words and less than 1000

-One-Shots are more than 1000 words

- ✦ means it is a drabble

- ★ means it is a one-shot.

- ♥ means it has sexual content or implied smut

-💔means it is an angst fic.

-★ means it is a Headcanon.

-⚜ means it is a Mini Series.

Assassin’s Creed:

Uncanny || Jacob Frye ||-✦

Smooth Talk || Deimos!Alexios ||- ✦ + - ♥

Marry me || Jacob Frye ||- ✦ + - ♥

Patching up a wound || Edward Kenway ||

Beautiful Music || Jacob Frye ||

A Scared Kiss || Ezio Auditore ||

Fierce Moon || Jacob Frye || - ♥

Bang Bang || Jacob Frye || - ♥

tall buff characters opening pickle jars (◕‿◕✿) || Jacob Frye ||

Tall Buff characters that are actually gentle giants || Connor Kenway ||

tall buff characters that are afraid of breaking their lovers || Shay Cormac ||

The Five Senses-Hearing || Alexios ||

Uncharted:

Did you hear? I’m going to be a dad! || Samuel Drake || ✦

You can call me Daddy Drake || Nathan Drake ||- ✦

Snowball Fight || Nathan Drake ||-✦

It’s just an Epilogue || Nathan Drake ||-✦

Mr. Wonderful || Nathan Drake || *Rewrite*-✦

Mr. Wonderful || Nathan Drake ||

Raging Storm || Sam Drake ||.

Being Pregnant has it quirks || Sam Drake ||

Turkey Trouble || Sam Drake ||

What if I'm a bad dad? || Sam Drake ||

Red Dead Redemption:

Tonight We Dance|| Arthur Morgan ||- ✦

I’m Crazy About You || Arthur Morgan ||- ✦

I’m Gonna Be A Daddy? || Arthur Morgan |||- ✦

I’ll Be The Best Father Around || Arthur Morgan |||- ✦

Stage 1 — The Meeting || Arthur Morgan ||- ✦

Stage 2 — Courting || Arthur Morgan ||- ✦

Let Me Stay Here By Your Side || Arthur Morgan ||- ✦

Mistletoe kisses || Modern!Charles Smith ||- ✦

Just Some fun in the camp || Arthur Morgan ||- ✦-♥

Arthur Morgan’s 25 Day’s of Christmas {{ Full List }}- ✦

A Bambi Kiss || Arthur Morgan ||

Arthur Morgan Sex Headcanon.- ♥ -✨

Resident Evil / Day’s Gone:

To The Man Who Let Her Go || Chris Redfield ||

So Many Kisses || Carlos Oliveira ||

I’ll never stop living you || James O'Brian ||

So many kisses || Carlos Oliveira ||

First Kiss || Carlos Oliveira ||

Sleepy Hug || Carlos Oliveira ||

The Little Things || Carlos Oliveira ||

She Wouldn’t Be Gone || Leon S. Kennedy ||.

The Lift hug || Carlos Oliveira ||

A Forehead Kiss || Carlos Oliveira ||

My Life ; My Princess || Carlos Oliveira ||

I’m going to hug you now || Carlos Oliveira ||

Fuck IKEA || Leon S.Kennedy ||

You look! I’m to Nervous || Rookie!Leon ||

Get your dad jokes ready || Rookie!Leon ||

Get your dad jokes ready || Leon S. Kennedy ||

Silent Comfort || Rookie!Leon ||

A kiss…. in relief || Billy Coen ||

Jealousy || Leon S. Kennedy ||

A kiss … …to pretend.|| Leon S. Kennedy ||.

an adrenaline kiss || Rookie!Leon ||

Summer Bike Rides and Picnics || Deacon St. John ||.

Hallway Sex is the best kind of sex || Deacon St. John ||

Supermassive Games: { Little Hope / Until Dawn / Men Of Medan }

Forget-me-not’s & Foxglove’s || Mike Munroe ||-✦.

Don’t You dare throw that snow ba-” || Mike Munore ||- ✦

First Date || Mike Munroe ||- ✦

I think I might be Pregnant || Josh Washington ||- ✦

It’s Not Just Make Believe || David Milton || - ✦.

He’s One Of The Good One’s || Anthony Clark ||-✦.

Keep Bleeding Love || Abraham Alastor || Pt I-✦.

Keep Bleeding Love || Abraham Alastor || Pt II-✦.

I’m so sorry || Daniel ||-✦.

Just kiss already || Abraham Alastor ||-✦

Love In The Mountains || Josh Washington ||

Lovin In The Forest || Wendigo Josh Washington ||

You’re Safe Now || Mike Munore ||

Take it off || Josh Washington ||

I think i might be pregnant || Josh Washington ||

Devil May Cry-

Baby Hog || Dante Sparda || - ✦

Please Don’t Cry || Nero ||

Baby’s First Kicks || Nero ||

What a wonderful Christmas Surprise. || Dante Sparda ||

Silent Night || V ||

Just this once || Dante ||

I said a book…not a poem || V ||

Leave it To Dante || Dante ||

Do you think they’ll have your eyes?|| Vergil ||

Expecting || Nero ||

Miscellaneous Games: { Wolf Among Us / Detroit Become Human }

Ralph likes to kiss! || Ralph x Reader ||- ✦

“Am I too old to go trick-or-treating?”|| Connor ||- ✦

It’s getting hot in here || Connor ||-✦

Romantic Kiss || Connor ||-✦

You want me to what? || Hank Anderson ||-✦

Sweet Boy || Connor ||- ✦

December 3rd: Snow || Bigby Wolf ||- ✦

Morning Kisses || Bigby Wolf ||- ✦

Cuddles || Bigby Wolf ||- ✦

Christmas Morning || Bigby Wolf ||- ✦

First Snow || Bigby Wolf ||- ✦.

Amortentia Bigby-★.

Then you kissed me || Bigby Wolf ||

Little Red Ridin’ Hood || Bigby Wolf ||

Everyone Needs a little lovin || Bigby Wolf ||

'So... Hypothetically, if we were to have a baby, how would you react? || Bigby Wolf ||

tall buff characters that are actually gentle giants || Bigby Wolf ||

What A Handsome Wolf || Bigby Wolf ||

Miscellaneous Games 2: {OverWatch / Mortal Kombat / Far Cry 5}

Heelllloooo || Johnny Cage x Reader |||- ✦

Vampire!Gabriel Reyes - ✦

Bats || Jesse McCree ||- ✦

Laughter || Gabriel Reyes ||- ✦

First Kiss || Sub-Zero ||- ✦

Oh My God || Kenshi ||- ✦

You’re Alive || Eli Palmer || -✦

I’ve Missed you || Sharky Boshaw ||-✦

The Dragon’s Nest || Hanzo ||

Miscellaneous Games 3: {Call Of Duty / Marvel Avengers / Ghost Of Tsushima}

Bambi Kiss || Steve Rogers ||

Tall buff characters that are actually gentle giants || Daniels ||

I’m so sorry. || Steve Rogers ||

When I am dead || Taka ||-💔

but it’s all coming back to me || Jin Sakai ||

Friendship is the Best Medicine. || Jin Sakai / Ryuzo ||

Pure love. || Jin Sakai ||

It’s Just A Kiss || Jin Sakai ||

I’ll make you feel better || Jin Sakai ||

Be The One You Need || Joseph Turner ||

The Ghost & The Kitsune. || Jin Sakai ||

The Last Of Us:

Amortentia Joel-★

A kiss to bruised skin || Joel Miller ||

Baby’s First Kicks || Joel Miller ||

You’re My Light || Joel Miller ||

tall buff characters || Joel Miller ||

Final Fantasy:

A kiss on the nose || Tseng ||

You’re glowing || Cloud Strife ||

The SOLDIER and The Baker || Cloud Strife || The Date-⚜

A Kiss…Out Of Love.|| Biggs ||

Just a little confession of love || Biggs ||

The SOLDIER and The Baker || Cloud Strife ||-⚜ Part 1 || Part 2. || Part 3 || Part 4. || Part 5.

I’m Scared || Cloud Strife ||

Cheiloproclitic || Cloud Strife ||

Sleepy Kiss|| Cloud Strife ||.

387 notes · View notes

fvrxdrm · 3 years

Text

Through the Valley

Pairing: Jesse McCree x F!Reader

Warning(s): Mentions of violence, angst

Setting: Deadlock/Pre-Blackwatch/Pre-recall

Song: Through the Valley (Ellie’s cover)

*****

When the universe was formed, the world was sculpted with rocks, and when the world was sculpted with rocks, strange beings were brought down to earth, and when strange beings were brought down to earth, sins were born, and when sins were born, dissensions were brought to light, and when dissensions were brought to light, war had clouded the visions of many beings and humanity teared itself down, one by one, with metal blades and flying arrows, and evolving into something much more minacious and powerful…

…like a gun.

So much vigor, so much anger, so much power. With one pull of a trigger, one life could be led towards heaven or hell, with no chance of escaping a baneful bullet; piercing through the skin and tearing the flesh, embedding itself deep till the person dies losing blood or be lucky enough to survive such fatal shot.

An excellent marksman’s the only one capable of doing that.

Specifically, those who know their guns by heart.

They are precise. They are rigorous. And they make every shot count. They make sure the target receives the end of their blazing weapons, and they’ll do it again and again till they’re satisfied with the bloodshed they’ve created. Their eyes would gleam with red, and blood would boil deep within their veins.

Even with one shot, those who feel agony could be standing right in front of death’s door.

There’s this marksman though, a gunslinger who seems to have held a gun since his mother gave birth to him. His accuracy cannot be matched even by those whose experiences have passed through the roof. Even with a blindfold on he still knew where to point his revolver at. He was a shit-hot at what he was doing, as they say.

Deadeye is what they call him.

People believe that the Deadeye was a curse that was passed from his ancestors to their descendants, and he happens to be their newest successor, which means he was to hold the malediction whether he liked it or not.

Truth is, it isn’t a curse.

Born by pain and abandonment, he was forced to teach himself how to survive on his own at such a young age. He worked hard to feed himself with enough food to desist from dying from an empty stomach, he rode by rivers and looked out for cacti to give himself something to drink, and most importantly, he taught himself how to pull a trigger and defend himself from nasty foes with the use of a gun he likes to call…the Peacekeeper.

After so many years of living and surviving on his own, a gang who called themselves the Deadlock Rebels took him with them and dinned him on how to rob banks and stir up ruckus in villages and towns. He was happy to have found a family who he could rely himself on even with their twisted intentions, and for the first time in his entire life, he felt rapturous.

Every blood he spilled was a trophy to be held in his hands, every eye that widened in fear had the hunger lurking beneath consume him until he became the monster that he was, every bullet that flew with the speed of light had his teeth grinding together, and every word that spread around town had him grinning with sharpened fangs.

People see him as the devil himself, only softening what was left of his heart when a kiss was pressed against his vulgar lips.

His lover was pristine and innocent, an angel in contrast to the demon he turned himself into. She had bright eyes and a scintillating smile, a touch so gentle and feather-like, a voice so small and warm, and a forgiving heart nobody deserved to earn unless she allowed it to.

Folks have wondered how on earth had she given a killer a chance and had asked the same question over and over again, but she always replied with the same answer as well;

“He was orphaned by evil and war; always have, always will be. Someone as broken as him may not be fixed, but they deserve love just as much as those who have found their place in order to help find their purpose on earth again. There are paths in front of them to help guide them in life, and what surrounds them will give them a reason to stay in the path they’ve chosen.”

Some people agree, some people don’t. But at the end of the day, it’s her belief and children look up to her and admire the goodwill she possesses even though her trust was something to be worried about. She claims she knows what she’s doing and all the world hopes that she truly does.

The heart of his lover would burn at every bruise and every wound the young man would come home with, and every word of what his gang had done would send her heart palpitating in an almost irregular speed. She feared of what was to come, and she hoped and prayed that he wouldn’t end up like the folks who have met the end of Peacekeeper’s barrel.

Years have passed and the man grew into a more ruthless killer. He had a heart of stone but it never forgot the woman who have given him an aspiration better than what they had then. He was going to be head and shoulders above, he promised. Just not now. The devil on his shoulder was still pulling him underneath. And when the day the voices in his head have stopped screaming comes, he’ll find a better home for the two of them; one where they could raise a few children of their own and make love until the sun rises in the east.

But alas, the dreams he had hoped for came to an unfortunate close…

The Deadlocks had been ambushed by soldiers of Overwatch, slowly killing the only family he’s had and taking him and his lover in to probably rot for the rest of their lives. Blue had befogged his vision, but red had risen flames inside of him.

Bullets flew from his tongue the moment he was thrown into a room flooded in black with only a poor excuse of a light hanging above him. He sat impatient, fists clenching and unclenching in fear of what they might’ve done to his girl. She could’ve been suffering from a harrowing death and nobody gave him one last chance to say what must be said before her final moments, and that was enough to untether something wilder inside of him.

He was given two options: he would be thrown into jail and be left there to rot or be given a chance to walk in the right path and leave the wrong, change himself and the world for the better.

The commander had seen something in him: a potential. The woman was right when she said he was forced into a void full of nothing but anguish at such a young age, and pity was what he felt for the gunslinger.

The power he had with his gun was nothing Reyes had ever seen. He was one with Peacekeeper; both thriving to reach the heights with ardor and strength. It would a shame if his talent was just going to be thrown into waste. So, what better way to use it than with noble purpose?

He was right. The offer was better than to slowly sink into the fires of hell. But what’s the point of throwing his hat into the ring if the woman he loves was in the opposite side of the wall? What’s the point of it all if she wasn’t going to be the shoulder he could cry on? What made it even worse was the fact that he was just going to be stuck in a goddamn loop.

Maybe dreams were only meant to be dreams…

It seemed like the world gave him a certain fate; a fate where death was something that would haunt him like a ghost whenever he was in the firing line, a fate where shadows were to be seen in his line of sight, and possibly a fate where he becomes a weapon himself and shoot down those he cared for dearly. And it scared him. But, what choice did he have? He’d rather see the world again and again, even in its darkest times, than die pathetically in his cage.

“Good choice, kid. I think you both know why you were brought here on earth in the first place.”

'Cause I walk through the valley of the shadow of death And I fear no evil because I'm blind Oh, and I walk beside the still waters and they restore my soul But I know when I die my soul is damned

Jesse sang with shaky breath, fingers trembling against tattered wood, before his hands rested loosely against his guitar and sighed into the warm night air.

“We’ll be alright,” his lover said. Her calloused fingers gently grasped his metallic one and smiled sadly at him.

They both wore rings, a symbol of the love they’ve treasured and every trial they’ve come across along the way. The vows they’ve exchanged gave them a reason to stay, a reason to fight again. It was a bittersweet surrender, but it was worth it.

“Yeah, we’ll be alright.”

#jesse mccree x reader #jesse mccree #overwatch x reader #overwatch #mccree x reader #mccree

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madirablack · 3 years

Text

R76 HCS

Time to cry

my angsty gay fathers

Okay so like with the Mchanzo one it starts with how they got to their current point

Both are 100% gay, and only really been with each other. they're soulmates.

first met in the pre-overwatch military, Gabe being Jack's commander.

Jack was sent to the military after his father found out he was gay to "make him a real man"

they grew closer and closer together over their years of service, becoming colleagues to almost brothers.

Jack first realised he loved Gabe after he patched him up mid-gunfight

he confessed rather awkwardly a day later, and Gabe accepted, out on a whim not really a hundred percent invested.

he fell for Jack faster than he could say "commander reyes"

Gabe made it his mission to protect Jack, to always keep him out of harm's way, which was rather hard in the middle of a war.

When they entered the S.E.P, they got even closer. Comforting each other after all the injections made them throw up and shake, after they were exerted to their limits. They were each other's constant in an ever-changing world.

Gabe always threw up from the injections and Jack got really bad migraines and they'd both pass out a lot

When they were put on leave, they met each other's families.

Jack's family were on the whole rather approving of Gabe, his mom loved him. The initial meeting was all going well until his father came back, and it was a shitshow.

Gabe had to teach Jack a bunch of emergency Spanish on the flight to LA, most of which he remembered. Gabe's mother was incredibly sceptical of Jack to begin with, but the longer the two stayed together, the more she loved him.

The first crisis was both terrifying and exhilarating for them. They got informally married about half way through, exchanging dog tags and then getting formally married later on

When Overwatch was established and they were allocated bedrooms and offices, they both instantly chose to stay in Jack's.

Gabe was happy for Jack when he got the Strike Commander position, he couldn't deal with the stress himself and the pride he saw in his husband was enough to keep him going.

The two suddenly became a lot busier when overwatch was up and running and had less and less time to be a couple but whoever fell asleep first would always latch onto the other the second they got into bed. if they couldn't spend the day together then at least they could cuddle at night.

Each near miss on missions was catastrophic and caused them both to be absolutely in shreds with worry.

Ana's 'death' destroyed them. She was a sister to both of them and they started to grow apart with their differing ways to deal with grief

The Zurich bombing was the worst either of them had ever felt in their entire lives. Gabe got impaled on a rebar and crushed by a wall fragment and died, his last words being "I'm sorry, Jackie." Jack got crushed by the ceiling of the meeting hall, but he didnt die from it.

When they figured out who 'Soldier 76' and 'Reaper' were, it broke them beyond words.

When they first met again unmasked, they stayed silent for an entire hour before Jack started with an apology, and everything came pouring back out.

Jack convinced Winston and everyone else to let Gabriel back on the watchpoint

Pre-fall relationship life HCs

FATHERS OF JESSE MCCREE. The second that boy gets injured they're practically flying down to the medbay and badgering Angela for details

CEOS of calming down PTSD. like omg they know everything about each other's triggers and how exactly to calm each other down.

Small gestures of love, a quick kiss when passing each other, a hand hold, leaving for a mission and leaving out a coffee and breakfast, that sorta thing.

they both find it very hard to sleep at night so most of the time they just lay there talking.

They try hard to make time to spend just the two of them. Their favourite pastime used to be being sat in an old airship, looking out across the base and just talking about everything and anything. just being in each other's company was enough for them

Jack can cook but it's all "white people shit" as referred to by Gabe

Nicknames!! J->G : Gabi, Star, Captain, babe, sweetheart, Angel, Soldier G->J: Jackie, Commander, "sir" but mockingly, Cariño, baby, Solider,

always defending each other

taking bullets literally and metaphorically for one another

Staying with each other in the medbay all night

reminding each other of self-care, like making sure each other eat, drink enough water, take meds all that kinda stuff

Cuddles, these boys cuddle so much.

Going home at Christmas to Gabe's family and having an amazing time

Their "deaths"

Jack saw the newscast and his world fell apart. He cried for days on end.

Gabe convinced himself it wasn't real

They left white Roses on each other's "graves" whenever they could.

they started to notice something was up when the flowers that only they knew the significance of kept popping up at the same time.

The reunion

Their masks had been knocked off in battle and they were both gravely injured. Jack set down a biotic field for them both.

"Hi...Jackie."

"oh my fucking god."

"..."

"*tries to hold in tears and pass it off as laughter* you're so fucking old."

post-reunion

Struggling to stay intimate and loving like they used to, but it's obvious they're more than thankful to have each other back.

Gabe very insecure about how his body turned out, and so it takes him an incredibly long time to agree to let Jack see him again.

Once Gabriel managed to get out of talon and was allowed back on the watchpoint, (with constant supervision) he felt incredibly out of place.

Staying up all night talking to each other about what happened to them when they were separated.

Glad they got to grow old together.

Finding themselves staring at each other at random moments, in awe that everything turned out the way it did.

Sharing beers on the rooftops of the watchpoint and reminiscing about their 30+ years in each other's company.

"I still love you, and that will never change."

Getting to know each other again,and seeing glimpses of their younger selves in each other.

#overwatch #reaper76 #r76 #jack morrison #gabriel reyes #overwatch reaper #soldier 76 #reaper76 headcanons #r76 headcanons #overwatch headcanons #overwatch lgbt

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malexmalereader · 4 years

Text

Jesse McCree x Male!Reader - Wildflowers

A/N: No one asked for this, but I figured I'd post it anyway. Lately I haven't been able too put a lot of effort into my work, so I hope this is alright.

TW: Angst, Death of a Parent

Contently, Jesse looks over the field. Flowers growing in all sorts of colours, the apple trees casting long shadows in the setting sun.

You are right next to him, keeping an eye on your daughter who is joyfully jumping through the field, your dog following along just as happily.

With a yawn you lean your head against your husband's shoulder.

Jesse lets out a low chuckle and wraps an arm around you, gently stroking your side with his hand.

"Who'd've ever thought we'd get to live this kind of quiet life, huh?", he sighs, his smile growing brighter as your daughter and dog change course to run back to you.

"I picked flowers for you! I wanna make a flowercrown!", the young girl exclaims, dropping a variety of wildflowers on your picknick blanket as the dog already curls up next to you to take a nap.

"Alright dad?"

"Dad?", Jesse's eyes shoot open, meeting those of his daughter. He blinks confusedly a few times, before the ache in his back pulls him back into reality.

He's sitting on the old porch swing, dressed in black. His greying hair is falling into his visibly older face, which seems to age just a little more as he fully realizes where he is.

"Dad, are you alright?", your daughter asks, concern in her eyes, knowing full well that he wasn't, no matter what he said.

In the ten years that you'd been gone, Jesse had never quite gotten used to everything without the love of his life.

Mornings were too quiet without you next to him in bed, he could barely remember to eat breakfast for the longest time.

Making any meal was a chore, as was keeping the house clean and the land around it as beautiful as it had been when you were there with him.

Sure, chores were chores even back then, but the big difference you had made was only something he realized after you'd been taken.

Too early and far too suddenly death had gotten the better of you - leaving Jesse alone with the dog and the light of your lives, your daughter.

"I'm alright Pumpkin' just...needed a nap.", he assures her, patting the empty space on the swing next to him, prompting her to sit down.

She forms a weak smile and plops down next to him, following his view over the fields.

The early fall sun shines a pleasant light over the scenery, covered up enough by light clouds to not blind anyone who dared to look up.

Your daughter's view only falls back on her dad as she hers him let out a muffled sob into his hand.

He's looking down again, his shoulders hanging, his other hand gripping tightly onto his thigh, obviously focused on not breaking down in tears of utter sorrow.

Your daughter gently puts a hand on his back, unsure if there was - or ever would be - any way to comfort him in these moments.

No words seemed big enough to commemorate the feelings and thoughts coming to mind when she thought about how happy her dad's had been together at home.

So she can just repeat what they'd said to each other a million times ever since her Father had passed.

"I miss him, too.", her voice is low and a little shaky as she breathes out the words, worried eyes still lingering on Jesse.

He slowly lifts his head before pulling your daughter into a tight embrace.

"Y'know, Pops would probably not be thrilled to know that we're spendin' his Birthday crying our eyes out, right?", your daughter wheezes. Jesse's hugs had always been strong - especially when he was overcome with emotions.

He parts from his daughter to look into her face, a small smile forming on his own, tears still glistening in the corners of his eyes.

"Hate to admit it, but you're right.", he chuckles and stands up from the porch swing with a groan.

"How 'bout we pay him a lil visit? you can pick a few flowers from the field as a birthday gift."

With a nod, your daughter gets up, a newfound pep in her step, so glad to see her widowed father gathering the spirits to even propose a trip to the graveyard.

#jesse mccree x male!reader #jesse mccree imagine #jesse mccree #mccree #ow mccree #mccree x reader #jesse mccree x reader #overwatch mccree #overwatch #overwatch x reader #overwatch x male!reader #male reader #male!reader insert #male!reader #mccree x male!reader #overwatch imagine #jesse mccree x male reader #mccree x male reader #overwatch reader insert

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fabricated-misslieness · 4 years

Text

Jesse McCree x ex!deadlock gang!male reader

Jesse reuniting with his ex (technically not an ex, they never broke up but Overwatch captured Jesse and then recruited him) who got captured and recruited by Overwatch.

United AU where every playable character in the game is part of the Overwatch organization, post initial disbandment.

Requested: No

Word Count: 1,730

Warnings: slightly angsty, swearing, suggested sex, whorknee for no reason

“Jesse?” (y/n) muttered. He was being manhandled by this guy wearing a weird mask and a large black cloak, hiding any skin from anybody looking. His hands were cuffed behind his back and there was visibly no way of escape. The guy with the mask looked down at (y/n), confused as to what he’d said, before he looked back up, brushing it off. Jesse didn’t seem to have taken a notice of (y/n).

“Hey, Reaper, you’re back. How was the old gang going?” He jogged over, mainly looking at Reaper.

They talked for a bit before Jesse finally looked at him.

His eyes shined with recognition and instantly, his lips tugged into a scowl. “Something wrong, McCree?” The guy with the mask, Reaper it seemed, asked.

“No, nothing.” Jesse replied. His eyes lingered on (y/n) for a while before they turned back to Reaper.

“Just the one?” Reaper grunted a yes in return.

“So what’s in it for this guy?” He smiled again, playfully hitting (y/n) lightly on the shoulder.

If it weren’t for the blind on his mouth, (y/n) would’ve started cursing them both out.

“I’ll tell you later.” Reaper replied, pulling (y/n) along the Overwatch headquarters.

Reaper and Jesse engaged in small talk, both purposely avoiding the topic of the Deadlock member currently being held captive by Reaper. The conversation was mainly Jesse telling Reaper events that had happened while he was gone, Reaper not really incorporating into the conversation.

(y/n) was led into this room with a one-sided window on one of the walls. There were two chairs in front of each other and a table in the middle. The room was definitely an interrogation room.

Reaper put him down on the chair, cuffing his arms to the table, and then he left, shutting the door behind him.

Ten minutes later, the door opened, and Jesse came in. He sat down in front of (y/n), wearing some strange blue-tinted glasses.

“The name’s McCree. What’s yours?”

(y/n) raised an eyebrow, using his fingers to point at the mask covering his mouth. Jesse let out a hearty laugh, “Sorry.” He took the mask off (y/n)’s face.

“Can’t you tell, McCree?” (y/n) asked, scowl on his lips. His tone was bitter and his brows were furrowed.

Jesse’s lips pulled into a playful smirk, “I’m sorry, were you some Deadlock grunt I didn’t know?”

“Don’t tell me you--” (y/n) interrupted himself, feeling deadly close to crying.

“What was that, darling?”

That nickname. It was something Jesse always called him, but then again it was something he always called everyone as part of his accent.

(y/n) grunted, gulping down his feelings. “(y/n).”

“You see, darling? That was a nice start.”

“Now,”

Jesse interrogated (y/n) as if they didn’t know each other, as if they hadn’t dated before, as if they hadn’t promised to spend the rest of their days together, however long they had left.

(y/n) didn’t let out any hints or anything when Jesse asked, he didn’t let a single word spill from his lips.

Jesse sighed, eyes locking with (y/n)’s. For a second, (y/n) thought they were full of love and longing. Maybe he did remember him after all.

“Is it because my friends are behind that window?”

(y/n) only raised a brow. Jesse sighed once again, sending a gesture towards the window. “Ok, they’re gone.” He said after a few minutes.

(y/n) finally spoke, eyebrow still raised, “How can I believe you?”

“Baby, I’m not lying.”

Ok, that nickname wasn’t a part of his accent, but it was still plausible that he was just calling him that to ‘loosen up’ or something else.

(y/n) frowned, his emotions were starting to show in his eyes.

Two minutes of awkward silence ensued. Jesse held a pleading face, staring at (y/n) with the eyes he fell in love with.

“I love you.”

Tears pricked (y/n)’s eyes, and he tried blinking them out.

Those three words were full of emotion, full of the love that never faded in those years they spent apart.

“Jesse, I--” (y/n) started, but he was interrupted by Jesse pulling him into a kiss over the small table. The glasses nearly crashed with (y/n)’s face but they hung just a few centimeters away from him.

When they pulled back they both had to take a sharp breath. The kiss was longing and passionate, full of the love that never faltered over the years.

“Are they really-” (y/n) was interrupted again by another kiss, one much shorter and less breath-taking but still as loving and passionate.

“Yeah, they are.” Jesse stated, pulling off the blue-tinted glasses.

(y/n) assumed their purpose was for him to be able to see through the one-sided window.

“I..” Jesse started, but he cut himself off by kissing (y/n) again for a bit of courage. It was a kiss the other could barely respond to as he’d pulled back so fast. “I missed you.. so much, but let’s keep our vows for later.” The cowboy aesthetic laughed nervously before continuing. “Reaper said you have the option for him to recruit you and have you work for us, Overwatch, rather than have you thrown into a high-security jail. What d’ya think?”

“Of course I’ll take that option.” (y/n) replied with a small laugh.

“So for our vows…” Jesse trailed off, signalling for (y/n) to continue. He looked at the other expectantly.

“I love you, Jesse.” (y/n) started. “The gang thought you were either dead or in prison. Then you show up out of nowhere, with a metal arm no less, and steal Echo from us? I didn’t know what to think.” He shook his head, trying to think of words to say.

“Well,” Jesse took (y/n)’s hand in his own metal one and fiddled with the other’s fingers, making (y/n) shudder at the coldness. “..what do you think?”

“My opinion hasn’t changed.”

Jesse smiled, fully intertwining their fingers now.

“But, Ashe has been a total bitch since you were gone. She said you deserved it. I was planning on leaving the gang with some grunts but then Ashe got captured and I became the commander. We formed a family, Jesse. The other founding members were either gone or dead. I couldn’t just leave after that.” (y/n) sighed, thinking about the rest of the members he’d be leaving behind. “I wonder what they’ll be doing now.”

His eyes drifted off away from Jesse’s face as he thought.

“Doesn’t matter now darlin’. We’re the good guys now.” Jesse cupped (y/n)’s face with his other hand and pulled the (h/c) haired man to look at him.

They laughed a small bit before Jesse continued. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“They got Ashe too. She’s here.” (y/n) frowned and his eyebrows furrowed.

“I really don’t want to be here now.” He said, making Jesse laugh. Jesse shook his head, waving a dismissive hand.

“She’s much nicer now. Maybe not all that much to me, but I’m sure she’ll come ‘round.” (y/n) grimace at the thought of a nicer, less sassier Ashe.

“So for my vows,” (y/n) snapped back to reality, looking up at Jesse now. “I’ve missed you a whole lot. I even dropped my flirty tendencies. I just couldn’t stop thinking about you. Ashe was really surprised when I didn’t drop any flirty comments when I saw her. I asked her about how you were doing and Ashe just said that you were doing fine. That put me in a worry cause darling, you’re never just fine!”

(y/n) laughed, raising a playful brow.

“How did you handle the gang?” Jesse rubbed circles on (y/n)’s cheek, making the other lean closer into it.

“They complained about me not doing as many heists as before but they never said it to my face. We raised some cowards, Jess. Well, no. We raised them up and then Ashe put them back down. Her rules were hard, either you pay attention to her or you’re thrown out. She took absolutely no feedback.”

“Can’t imagine how hard that would’ve been.” Jesse muttered before taking (y/n)’s lips in his own again.

In the midst of their kiss, both of them heard a cough coming from the window. They turned to face Reaper, tapping his foot on the floor with arms crossed. You could just feel his raised eyebrow and frown. Reaper wore a microphone, (y/n) assumed that was what allowed the cough to be heard.

Reaper gestured for Jesse to leave and come to his room, making Jesse smile nervously.

Jesse turned to (y/n), shrugging his shoulders and letting go.

(y/n) watched as he left the room and then to Reaper, who was still staring at him. A few minutes into the staring contest the window turned back into one sided.

“What the hell was that?!” It seemed he hadn’t taken off the microphone.

“Reaper, you got a little somethin--”

“You better get to explainin’, McCree.”

“Reaper told me to lead you to your new room, but..” Jesse gestured towards his room, giving (y/n) a wink. “I feel yours is a little too empty at the moment.”

Jesse opened the door, bowing in front of him as a gentleman would for a lady after opening her car door. “Feel free to call it home.”

(y/n) laughed, stepping in and pulling Jesse in behind him. “We could’ve decorated mine with your clothes.. on the floor.” He replied.

“Are you insinuating we would’ve done the dirty deed, darling?” Jesse said, making (y/n) raise an eyebrow.

(y/n) shrugged, laying down on Jesse’s bed, head relaxing on his hands, after taking off his shoes. “I don’t know, think what you want to think, Jess.”

“I think,” Jesse started, straddling (y/n)’s hips. “.. you weren’t the only one who missed me.”

(y/n) raised an eyebrow playfully, hands automatically moving to hold Jesse’s hips.

“But your little friend down there..” He grinded down on (y/n)’s crotch with his ass. “.. did too.”

“You weren’t wrong.” (y/n) smiled, pushing the other down lightly to lay down on his chest. “But do we have the time?”

“There’s always time for a little quickie. But we'll be welcoming you officially tomorrow so we have plenty of time for more than that. We’ve got plenty for something a little more.. intimate.” Jesse leaned down to press a teasing kiss to the corner of (y/n)’s lips.

“The rooms are soundproofed, darling.” He whispered.

“We’re having plenty of fun then.”

#Overwatch x reader #Overwatch x you #Overwatch x male reader #Jesse McCree #McCree x male reader #McCree x reader #McCree x y/n #Jesse McCree x reader #McCree #Jesse McCree x male reader #Jesse McCree x y/n #Overwatch

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ow-anteater · 3 years

Text

Overwatch heroes as WTNV cold openings

Ana: Kill it with kindness. And if that fails, kill it with sharp sticks or knives.

Ashe: The future is what you make of it. Just know that your supplies are limited.

Baptiste: If it looks like a duck, and it quacks like a duck…you should not be so quick to jump to conclusions.

Bastion: Leave no stone unturned. Leave no rock unpivoted. Leave no pebble untwirled.

Brigitte: It's turtles all the way down, but man, it's kittens all the way up.

D.va: We all lie dreamily upon damp earth, spotting clouds shaped like animals we have yet to invent.

Doomfist: Those who remember history are also doomed to repeat it.

Echo: To err is human, but to err is also computer. We'll have to find another test to reveal which of us are secretly bots.

Hanzo: Regret nothing. Until it is too late. Then, regret everything.

Genji: I once was lost. But now I’m fine with that.

Junkrat: At least their heart’s in the right place, I say, softly running my hand across a plastic takeout container.

Lúcio: Fake it 'til you make it, mic it 'til you like it, book it 'til you look it.

McCree: A lonely heart, a wandering eye, an empty stomach, a shoulder to cry on - this is what makes us, us.

Mercy: Spring reveals nature's secret that death is reversible.

Mei: Snow is falling somewhere. Many things are falling, or will fall, or have fallen, but temporary triumph is still triumph.

Moira: Your existence is not impossible. But it's also not very likely.

Orisa: Remember that you are a beautiful person. You’re a weird-looking tree, but you’re a beautiful person.

Pharah: The future wants you. The future needs you. The future will have you whether you like it or not.

Reaper: Absence makes the heart grow fonder, fear makes the heart grow louder, and death makes the heart grow flowers.

Reinhardt: Everything old will be new again, except for when it's so old it disintegrates at your touch and scatters into oblivion.

Roadhog: It takes heart. It takes guts. It also takes cash. It just needs your payment immediately.

Sigma: Do you hear that sweet melody? That sweet melody on the breeze? No one else hears that sweet melody, That sweet melody on the breeze.

Soldier: 76: It's not the destination, it's the endless exhausting journey.

Symmetra: The sun has risen. You are awake. This symmetry is not without meaning.

Sombra: It’s not darkest before the dawn. It’s actually darkest after all the stars have gone out. It’s very dark then.

Torbjörn: No man is an island. Some men are fjords. Most men are oxbows. All men are ravines.

Tracer: Time is irrelevant and imaginary. And yet, somehow it seems we are out of it.

Widowmaker: Our moral compass has been demagnetized.

Winston: There is a thin semantic line separating weird and beautiful. And that line is covered in jellyfish.

Wrecking Ball: There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are written about on Wikipedia.

Zarya: Who's a good boy? Who's the good boy? Who is it? Who is it?

Zenyatta: Close your eyes. Let my words wash over you. You are safe now.

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nitewrighter · 3 years

Note

Make the AU, Nitey

Just for the record, this is @azaeleia ’s fault because I really like this art and I’ve pondered how a Gakuen AU might look for a while.

----

The thrum of cicadas whirred from the trees that marked the edge of campus, their sounds seemingly gaining momentum over the open air of the track and the green. Overwatch Academy was a stately boarding school with a sleek modern architecture that seemed to have echoes of old Georgian dignity. Genji slumped against the stucco wall of the gymnasium, smacking his lips to try and get the blood from his teeth. He wiped the back of his hand across his nose and mouth and huffed at the streak of red that marked the back of it, sticky in the kicked-up dust and grunted with some disgust. The blaze of furious adrenaline was fading and the bruises were setting in. He just needed a few seconds before getting up, that was all. He glanced down at his uniform and sighed--it was covered in dirt and grass stains from the tussle, and a few specks of blood from his nose and lips.. What a mess... he wouldn’t hear the end of it from Hanzo.

Classes for the day had let out nearly two hours ago, and now were the few hours devoted to intramural activities such as sports and arts and other programs before the students were called in for dinner in the dining hall and sent to their dorms for the evening.

Or in Genji’s assailants’ case, wander off to the areas of the campus that were too far-flung to be monitored and unintentionally re-enact Lord of the Flies. They were bullying Zen (again), and Genji intervened. He wasn’t sure if he could really say his intentions were purely noble, rushing to defend Zen, as he often found himself in fights by virtue of his own mouth--but he figured he was a lot more used to fights than Zen, and thus here he was, dirty, bruised, and feeling more stupid than heroic.

“Genji!” A pair of scuffed saddle shoes skidded to a dusty halt in front of him and Genji glanced up to see a familiar skinny figure in a blouse and the blue pleated skirt of their uniform. Angela Ziegler carried herself stiffly, and sometimes you could make out the faint lines of her back brace through her blouse. She buckled over rigidly, like a doll, with her hands on her knobby knees to catch her breath.

“Class rep...?” said Genji, squinting to make eye-contact with her. Angela Ziegler was a bit of an odd duck among their peers, one of those kids who acted like a mini-adult while not being aware they acted like a mini-adult. She was a favorite of Professor de Kuiper, elected to the position of Class Rep not because she was popular, but because she was universally recognized as a busybody who would probably push her way to the position anyway to see that things got done. As she pulled herself back up to an upright postion, head eclipsed the sun but was still blinding in its blondness. “But,” Genji eked out the words, “How did you--?”

Angela looked back over her shoulder and Genji made out another kid, bronzey-tan, shorter and even skinnier than Angela with a close-shaved head, sage, heavy-lidded eyes, and the remains of a surgically corrected harelip.

“Zen, I told you to go,” said Genji trying to push himself up to his feet, the stucco prickling the skin of his palms with the action.

“I did, and then I got help,” Zen answered mildly.

Genji shot him a dark look as Angela looked around, “Did you see where they went?”

“It’s fine,” Genji said, his voice half a growl, “They’re long gone by now.”

“Who was it?” said Angela.

Genji’s lips tightened.

“Genji,” Angela put her hands on her hips.

“Just Max and his goons again,” Genji said sullenly, “So crying to Professor de Kuiper isn’t going to do anything.” Max’s family were wealthy donors to the school. Kids like him tended to only get a slap on the wrist, come back to inflict more pain as a reaction to getting in trouble, all the while getting better at not getting caught.

“We wouldn’t be crying to him--” she started but then huffed and held out a hand to him, “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Genji took her hand and she and Zen helped him up to his feet. She blinked at a dirty, bloody abrasion on his arm and another on his hand from when he was shoved hard to the ground. “You can walk, right?”

“Of course I can walk,” said Genji, limping a little.

“This way,” said Angela, taking his non-injured arm and walking around the gym.

“I don’t want to go to the nurse,” muttered Genji.

“I have a first aid kit in my gym locker,” said Angela, “It’s closer.”

“Nerd,” the scoffing word came out of him on reflex.

“It’s coming in handy, isn’t it?” she said, arching an eyebrow at him. The three of them headed over to where the locker rooms of the Gym emptied lead out to the green. In the distance, the school soccer team thundered around the grass, their shouts and laughs mingling with the screech of cicadas.

Zen held down the button on a drinking fountain and Genji sloshed up water onto his face, feeling it go from lukewarm to shockingly cold as he washed and watching his own watered down blood splash pink against the white of the fountain’s basin. He got a mouthful of water and swished it around, trying to get the dirt and blood from his teeth.

“Got it!” Angela briskly walked out of the girl’s locker room just as Genji was spitting bloodied water into the drinking fountain’s basin, and he made eye contact with her. She had a neat little first aid kit in hand but her lips were pulled back from her teeth in a grimace at him spitting. Genji looked up at her from the fountain, face dripping, moving to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand again, but she reached into the breast pocket of her blouse and held out a cloth handkerchief to him. His brow crinkled as he gingerly took it from her, and he couldn’t keep eye contact with her as he padded at his face with the handkerchief. He looked from the handkerchief to her but she was already sitting down on the bench outside the locker room and rifling through the little first aid kit. Genji pressed the handkerchief to his mouth, then padded it around his dripping jawline and the wet margins of his face.

“Here, sit down,” said Angela, taking a small disinfectant wipe from the first aid kit and tearing it out of its wrapper.

Genji moved to sit but grunted in pain in the process at what was surely a wide bruise on his leg.

“You were limping earlier,” said Angela.

“Yeah.”

“Is the skin broken?” said Angela.

“I don’t think so,” said Genji.

“Zen, can you head to the science lab? Professor de Kuiper has an ice pack in his fridge. Just say it’s for one of the soccer players.”

“Mm-hmm,” Zen gave a short nod before jogging off.

“Why were they picking on him?” said Angela, wiping the disinfectant wipe across the bloody abrasion on Genji’s arm as Zen exited earshot. Genji drew in a sharp inhale through his nostrils as she wiped grains of gravel from the injury.

“‘Cuz he’s weird,” said Genji with a shrug.

“He’s not weird, he’s nice,” said Angela, in her mini-adult way.

“He’s nice in a weird way. I guess it makes other people think he thinks they’re better than him,” mumbled Genji.

“Well that’s just childish,” said Angela crisply.

“I mean, we are kids,” said Genji.

“That’s not an excuse!” said Angela.

“You’re a kid too, you know,” said Genji.

“Exactly! Like, it’s not hard to be nice!” Angela rubbed the disinfectant wipe a little too hard and Genji winced, “Sorry--! Sorry...”

Genji snorted a little.

“What?” said Angela.

“Nothing, I just...it’s kind of funny that you say that when you’re getting mad,” said Genji.

“I’m not getting mad!” Angela argued and then caught herself, “Oh--you--! You need to be more careful! You should have gotten an adult! When they were picking on Zen, you should have gotten a teacher! Not gone all.... fighting... guy! Who fights things!”

Genji rolled his eyes. “You’re class rep. You wouldn’t get it,” he muttered.

Her big blue eyes widened with insulted alarm. “What wouldn’t I get!?” she said.

“Well... you and Zen... the teachers like you,” said Genji.

“So?” said Angela.

“So they treat you better,” said Genji.

“So everyone has to treat Zen and me worse to make up for it?” said Angela, setting the disinfectant wipe aside.

“I don’t know,” sighed Genji, leaning against the painted brick of the locker room. He blinked a few times. “Do they treat you badly?” he said, glancing over at her.

“No... they don’t... treat me like anything,” said Angela, now taking a bandage and wrapping it around the abrasion, “...they...don’t talk to me unless they have to. Maybe if they forgot an assignment...” she trailed off and then caught herself, “I mean--I--I hang out with Mei! Sometimes... when she’s not with her tutors...”

Genji looked over at her, his brow crinkling. Her blond hair was shrouding one eye as she worked. She always seemed so smart and together that he had never really considered she could be lonely. Her eyes were fixed on his palm now, wiping another disinfecting wipe across its heel,

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

She glanced up.

“For uh... all this. I’ll clean up more at the dorms but... this helps. Are--are you going to tell...?”

“...not unless you and Zen get in trouble again,” said Angela, glancing off, “But--you should feel like you can go to the teachers for help! That’s--that’s what their job is...” she trailed off. She furrowed her brow. “And--and you can come to me, too. I’m the class rep, after all.” A small smile spread on her lips.

“Sure thing, class rep,” said Genji. A pause passed. “You know... on Thursdays, there’s like, a whole 3 hours between where the AV club leaves the media center, and the janitor comes in to kick you out, so sometimes McCree and I watch bad horror movies in there.”

“Bad horror movies?”

“Yeah! And you eat a bunch of junk food and make fun of them! It’s great!”

“...why wouldn’t you just watch good horror movies?”

Genji huffed. “You’re killing me, Rep.”

Angela blinked. “Wait--are--are you saying I can come? On Thursdays?”

“Yeah,” Genji shrugged.

The brief, heartbreakingly bright emotion that rippled across her face, the awe, made Genji’s stomach lurch. She quickly tried to regain her composure before focusing on unwrapping another bandage. “Yeah! Thursdays!” she tried to sound casual as she placed the bandage over the scrape on his hand, “Thursdays are--I like Thursdays.”

Genji smiled a little and she pushed her hair back from her eyes. She smoothed her thumb over the adhesive bandage she had put on the heel of his palm. There was a steadiness to the motion that caught his attention, how much care and warmth that tiny action seemed to hint toward.

“I’ve gotten the ice pack,” a calm voice piped up and both of them flinched to alertness. Angela quickly released his hand and they both looked up to see Zen calmly presenting a blue ice pack which Genji eagerly grabbed and put over the bruise on his leg with a sigh of relief. Angela blinked a few times and then quickly stood up.

“Well--um-- is-- does anything else hurt?” she said, holding her little first aid kit in a white-knuckled grip.

“Uh.. I... think I can handle it from here if you need to go,” said Genji.

“Yes--I just remembered I.... have... homework. So much homework. And I should do it. So I’ll... see you in class?”

“Yeah,” said Genji, “See you in class.

“Mm-hm,” she gave a quick nod and then quickly disappeared back into the locker room. Genji sighed and pressed his back against the wall behind the bench, before he noticed a small rag crumpled at his side.

“Hey--Rep, you forgot your--” Genji picked up the handkerchief and pushed up from the bench and grunted, pressing the ice pack to his leg as he became aware of his bruise again with his own movement, but then he looked at the handkerchief, now soddened with blood and dirt and water. What was he going to do? Call her back and have her take the filthy thing? He sighed and sank back onto the bench, holding the ice pack to his leg with one hand and the damp, dirty handkerchief in the other. He glanced back at Zen to see him smiling with such an irritating serenity that Genji wouldn’t be surprised if it were the sort of expression that got him into trouble with Max or his goons in the first place.

“What?” said Genji.

“Are you going to give it back to her?” said Zen.

“I dunno, it’s stupid. Who carries around cloth handkerchiefs? It’s gross. Look at it, it’s gross already.”

“...you could wash it and give it back,” Zen said with a shrug.

“Well of course I’m going to wash it before I give it back,” Genji huffed only to see Zen was beaming now. “Oh get over it.”

#gency

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logo-dojo · 3 years

Text

I'm listening to a riding on a "carriage ride through the woods" ambiance playlist and I got inspired. Enjoy.

The night is still, there are no storms tonight. A winding path with swaying tress that surround it. It's beautiful, really. The peace of the wind, moon; the chirping of nearby insects, the occasional who from a wise owl. And the sound of hooves hitting pure earth. What they carry makes soft clinging chimes, but it is not overpowering. Just peace. Just the night.

Two men on horseback walk down what seems to be a never ending path tonight.

Hanzo shimada, the dark archer in a hooded cloak; riding a midnight mare. He carries bow and arrow on his back, he didn't trust putting it with the luggage. What can be seen of his body, show's it's defined, perfectly muscular in the smoothest way known to man. Or elf, in his case. His hair is sleek and soothing like the darkest blues of the sky, long as well. But it is tied back in a low ponytail with a golden Seigaiha ribbon acting as a tie. For the features under his hood, it twists in the meanest form of resting bitch face.

Riding beside this powerful elf is Jesse McCree, a simple human with impeccable aim. His horse varies, a strong stallion with amber hair and a mix of white and brown spots. He wears another cloak, one much more decorated and worn. It's red with western sunsets that act as accents. Most predominantly about his style, is his boots that have spurs, yes they make sound as well; and a leather cowboy hat that's seen better days. Jesse's cream button down has chest armor that catches the moon's reflection in it. He always wears a holster over his layered pants, it has a revolver he calls "Peacekeeper" in it.

Another thing to note about these two wanderers is the emotions they carry. Jesse Cowboy McCree is relaxed with that lopsided grin on his face. He rides like it's the most soothing thing in the world, like he's done this his whole life. If the peace this night had a embodiment, it'd be him.

Hanzo hardass Shimada, rides with posture and a tight grip on his horse's leash. Resting bitch face giving no signs of going away. He clashes with the night.

Jesse - You need to take a break?

Jesse genuinely asks. It catches Hanzo off guard and he takes his time answering.

Hanzo - No.

Hanzo trots past Jesse, who quickly catches up, getting amused despite Hanzo's annoyance.

Jesse - It's just, if ya squeeze that leash any tighter it might break.

Hanzo finally, finally, turns to him in a stone cold stare. Yet Jesse doesn't look away from it.

Jesse - Something bothering you?

He asks once more, still laced with care. Hanzo sighs like this is the hardest thing he's had to do today.

Hanzo - Are we not out in the open, vulnerable? We could be attacked by anything.

Jesse chuckles, as if Hanzo just told the funniest joke. Which does nothing to ease Hanzo.

Jesse - Darlin', I'm the best gunslinger there ever was. We can defend ourselves just fine.

Hanzo rolls his eyes, but Jesse does notice the slight realise in the man's hands.

Jesse - So stop worrying so much, and just enjoy this.

Hanzo - What is there to enjoy?

Jesse scoffs.

Jesse - The quiet, Darlin'.

Hanzo shoots up, not expecting that answer. Not in a million years, not from someone as gregarious and smooth as Jesse McCree.

Hanzo - Quiet?

Jesse - Yeah, the thing you love so much.

Hanzo shakes his head. His hoarse does too, seemingly interested but in a way that she's judging Hanzo.

Hanzo - I did not mean to oppose-

Jesse - I know, ya don't have to apologize. It's weird for me to like that, I get it.

There's a pause where Hanzo hears Jesse breath. It's soft and alive and deep. Hanzo waits.

Jesse - I'm a social guy and you've only seen that side, so it's understandable. Doesn't mean I don't like alone time where I can just-

Jesse pauses and Hanzo honestly thinks he's pushed too much. He focuses back on the road, still never ending. The little pebbles, the dirt, the speks of grass that's made its way on the path. So many little pieces of material coming together to paint a portrait.

Hanzo's daydreaming stops by a sudden drawl, it forces its way into his brain and pulls his head to look at the source.

Jesse - Just... relax. I can think whatever I want to. Say everything I never got to say, apologize to my mama for leaving her behind to join some gang and hope she hears me.

Jesse chuckles, and that softness and life and warmth melting into hurt that he tries to conceal with a dry laugh. Hanzo still stares at him in a different, empathetic, expression. After a pause, he finds the courage to speak.

Hanzo - I... used to have people too.

Jesse's heard snippets of this, so he keeps his mouth in interest to know more. He doubts he'll get the full story, but partial is just as good.

Hanzo - I- ... I used to have a little brother. When we were children, he meant everything to me. Every time I would find my classmates picking on him I'd defend him. At night when he had nightmares so bad he wouldn't fall back asleep, I soothed him. And-

Hanzo smiles sadly.

Hanzo - When we'd steal treats from the kitchen I would eat the parts of them he didn't want.

Jesse smiles too.

Jesse - Sounds like a dream, Darlin'

Hanzo - It was. But it never lasts; as we got older, we stopped.

He stops, unable to go on. He tenses again. Jesse speaks so kindly, it takes over Hanzo's mind twice.

Jesse - It all went to hell.

Hanzo nods.

Jesse - You don't have to talk about it if it hurts too much. I'm just glad I got you to loosen up for a minute.

Hanzo laughs, small but sincere. Jesse finds it evading his own brain.

Jesse - I um, had a few sisters. Was the only boy so pop tried hard to make sure I didn't grow up weak. Be the man when he was gone and all that.

A pause.

Jesse - He- He wasn't my favorite. I joined Deadlock cause I didn't want to die in a barn, like him. I didn't cry when he-

Jesse breaths again, regaining some of his warmth.

Jesse - My ma was that everything to me. She taught me and my sisters how to read animals, instead of just riding them. Included me in lessons on how to make flower crowns when pop wasn't looking. Her and my sisters were the only thing I regret leaving behind.

As Hanzo was about to speak, they reached a clearing. Jesse scanned it, then smiled.

Jesse - About time. Hey Han, help me set up?

Hanzo chooses to leave the past conversation behind to join Jesse on the ground. Gone is the tense full of a frown and not needed posture, he was relaxed now. A thought pashed past him, that he'd have to thank Jesse for this, but that was left behind too.

Hanzo - Sure.

#overwatch #fanfic??#idk its just that I want to make a part 2 #hanzo shimada #jesse mccree #shimada brothers #au #wow its organized tags #fantasy #writing #tw depressing stuff #Also howdy im not dead #hi sorry to mess with this but had to make edits enjoy still tho

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emile-hides · 3 years

Text

Overwatch Horror Movies

Welcome to October -1st, where I remember to make a post about how each Overwatch character reacts to Horror Movies because it’s my passion.

If I call you out, tag yourself. That’s your government assigned kin.

Ana - Not her favorite Halloween activity, but she’ll watch them if the person she’s watching with is a screamer. She finds their fear more entertaining than the movie.

Ashe - Easily startled by jumpscares. A real Scream Queen. Her instinctual reaction is fists up. She’s knocked a few heads after getting startled.

Baptiste - Enjoys the cheesy, over the top with cliche horror movies. He’ll laugh though really anything but torture porn gorey garbage.

Bastion - Is baby, but doesn’t really have a sensor to understand the fear that he should be feeling. Gets PTSD flashbacks at too much gore and gunshot sounds.

Brigitte - Likes suspenseful movies that have a spooky atmosphere and a real story. She will punch a hole though the screen if she gets jumpscared.

D.Va - Laughs and says it’s just a movie and it’s such a dumb concept, but will become extra paranoid after Serial Killer/Slasher movies. She checks locks three times over, leaves all the lights on at night, and refuses to go anywhere after dark for about a week. However, horror games with the same premise have no effect on her.

Doomfist - Hates horror movies. Hates the choices protagonists in Horror movies make. Makes Talon agents write an essay on what to do if a serial killer is after you after seeing the dumb choices in Horror movies.

Echo - Don’t show her a movie with jumpscares! She will attempt to pull off scares of her own! While at first they’re jumping out from around corners, she’ll get better the more she does it. Brigitte will end up punching her.

Genji - Desensitized to gore and horror in general. Growing up around Spirit Dragons and then being trained by Spiritual Monks kind of ruin the whole scary ghosts thing for you.

Hanzo - Same as Genji on being desensitized to it all, but if a dog dies he will refuse to watch the rest of the movie.

Junkrat - Enjoys the gorey shit. The more horrid the better, he’ll probably laugh when someone gets their arm tore off. Easily freaked out by Zombie movies, though.

Lucio - Is Baby 2.0. An absolute coward, will spend 80% of the movie with his face buried in a pillow. Will need someone to share a room with a few nights afterwards.

McCree - Always found Ashe’s reaction to horror very funny, so he’d watch them with her. Discovering Gabriel Reyes had the same reactions was the best thing to ever happen in Blackwatch. Demon possession movies freak him out.

Mei - Is Baby the Third. Easily started, screams VERY loud. Spends the entire movie with her ears covered and eyes shut tight. Might cry.

Mercy - Being scared makes her angry. Something about the startle of a horror movie just pisses her off! She’ll jump and scream a little, then go into a rant on the movie’s horrid quality.

Moira - Finds her fellow veiwer’s reactions more interesting than the movie itself. Enjoys making snacks that fit the movie’s theme, and look uncomfortably like real fingers and eyeballs.

Orisa - Like Bastion, doesn’t fully understand what’s being scared is? She doesn’t like to watch them though, because she does not enjoy violence, and is worried Efi will see them.

Pharah - Wasn’t allowed to watch any horror until she was 18, so she tried to make up for it all in one night, and immediately scarred herself. Violently refuses to watch anything scary ever again.

Reaper - He watches them for the aesthetic of it all, Halloween is his Holiday and he will partake in all Halloween related events, but he’s a coward. Ghost/Demon possession movies mess him up the worst.

Reinhardt - He’ll remind anyone who’s scared “It’s just a movie” and laugh. Get’s startled at a jumpscare, but nothing will actually stick with him. He’ll probably have something similar that happened to him to talk about after the movie though.

Roadhog - Doesn’t enjoy watching horror movies, especially gorey ones. Not because they scare him, but because he sees enough of that shit in his day to day life already.

Sigma - Does not react well to being scared. The existentialism of death and the eventual end horror movies promote can set him off on a tangent, and eventually lead to a break down.

Soldier 76 - Loved Slasher movies, found them thrilling. Nothing ever sticks with him after a movie, he’s very rational. He doesn’t believe in ghosts in the slightest.

Sombra - She doesn’t find any horror really all that great, it’s all very predictable. She might spend the entire movie nitpicking how boring it is.

Symmetra - Says she believes horror to be a waste of time. In reality as a kid she saw a few ending scenes of a really gorey horror movie that’s stuck with her ever sense.

Torbjorn - He’s seen enough real horrors, movies don’t effect him that much anymore. He never really pays attention to what’s on the TV anyway.

Tracer - Very, VERY easily startled. She blinks and recalls almost every jumpscare, and keeps her face covered during most scenes. Despite being a massive coward, Lena really enjoys scaring other people.

Windowmaker - As expected, not easily frightened. She finds a lot of horror to be exceedingly boring, and will probably fall asleep during the movie.

Winston - Easily swayed by movies. He clings onto others or a pillow when he’s scared, and will be on high alert the entire movie. Once it’s over though he can rationalize pretty easily, and move on.

Wrecking Ball - Gets really hyped over monster movies! If he’s watching alone, he’ll act out the scenes as they’re happening, especially as the monster.

Zarya - Not a fan of horror, but if her friends are watching them, she’ll join in. She’s typically the calming prescience for cowards to cling to and hide behind.

Zenyatta - Not his first choice, but he’ll watch with friends. If he gets too scared he’ll offer to refill snacks and drinks to give himself a moment away from the screen. He uses his Orb of Harmony to calm anyone frightened after the movie is over.

#Overwatch #All Heroes #Yeah I'm not tagging them all #I also wanted to do bonuses like Max and Emily #but this post is already too long #So if you want someone specific for a bonus headcanon send them my way #I'd love to do them this is my passion #I loooooooooooove horror #Well #I love horror as a concept #A lot of movies are pretty... eh...#Jumpscares are not my cup of tea #My favorite kinds of people to watch horror with are people like Ashe #Who's instinct is Fists Up #Fight or Flight kicks in and they're ready to whoop ass #It's very funny #Headcanon Gabe's a coward but he must match his aesthetic first and formost #Zarya and Zenyatta are ideal Horror Movie partners #Reinhardt too he'll remind you it's just a movie and you're fine #Please enjoy my very important headcanons these have rattled in my brain all month #And I kept forgetting to make this post #So here we are #November 1st #Making the post #Long post

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fandom-imagines · 4 years

Text

Twins

Fandom: Overwatch

Pairing: Jesse McCree X Reader

Warnings: Abusive ex boyfriend, violence, semi-smut?

Words: 2248

Summary: After seeing Jesse McCree again after 11 years, some secrets are revealed.

It was weird, being back here at Overwatch headquarters many years later with my old colleagues. The HQ was the same, nothing much had really changed besides it being cleaned up a tad bit since the previous time I was here all those years ago. Most of the members hadn’t changed much too, besides me of course but I guess having two kids would do that to a girl. Speaking of those too little rascals, my mind began to wander slightly wondering how the two twins were doing hanging out with Hana, most likely playing video games. I had left Jacob and Jessica with Hana to do whatever they pleased as Hana had decided against going to the reunion party, favouring to stream for her fans.

“Y/F/N, I haven’t heard that name in years.” A thick southern accent sounded from behind me.

Oh shit.

“Jesse.” I said, forcing a smile as I turned to face him.

“Always wondered where you’d headed off to, darling.” He smiled back, his also forced as he placed emphasis on the term darling.

Of course, I expected this reaction. I had completely abandoned him eleven years ago.

Panicked, I paced frantically back and forth across the tiled floor of my bathroom, my bare toes occasionally brushing the blue rug in mine and Mccree’s shared bathroom.

“Shit, shit, shit.” I mumbled, tugging at my hair in an attempt to release some of the panic.

Obviously, it didn’t work.

My eyes looked up from the ground to the sink, spotting the positive pregnancy test placed on top of it which began to stress me out further.

The one time me and Jesse had gotten drunk and had some ‘fun’ this had to happen. The one time.

My brain, clouded with panic, immediately went to the one idea that I probably shouldn’t have done.

Run away.

So, I did.

I headed to the commander’s office, explaining the issue and how I wanted to do what was best for me and my soon to be born baby. He understood, allowing me to leave but not before agreeing to not mention it to anybody, not even my boyfriend. And that was the last I ever saw of Jesse Mccree, until today…

“Well, you know…” I gulped, eyes looking anywhere except his pleading ones. “Duty calls.” I shrugged.

He gave me a fake nod along with a smile.

Despite the eleven years away from him, my feelings hadn’t faded one bit. He was still the handsome cowboy I fell in love with when I was young and probably would always be in love with but, after I did what I did, I didn’t expect him to feel the same.

“How have you been?” He asked politely, making me loosen up a little.

Maybe he isn’t as angry now. It must have been a shock seeing me.

“I’ve been okay.” I smiled slightly, “How have you been Jess?” I asked, the nickname slipping so casually off my tongue, not feeling foreign at all making both our eyes widen.

“I-I’ve been okay too.” He stuttered, pink darting up onto his cheeks.

“Good, good.” I said, looking towards my purse as my phone began to ring.

“Excuse me,” I excused myself, the clicking of my heels sounding behind me as I headed outside of the venue, still feelings his eyes on me.

“Hey, Hana. What’s up?” I answered upon seeing her caller ID.

“Hey! Jessica and Jacob fell asleep, do you want me to bring them to your room when you’re back?” She asked.

“I’m on my way back now, I’ll pick them up don’t worry.”

“Okay! See you soon.” And that was the last thing I heard before she hung up.

A smile on my lips, I headed to Hana’s room to pick up Jessica and Jacob.

With the two brown-haired twins fast asleep in their room, I headed to sit in my bed and watch some television.

I was about halfway through some random show when a quiet knock on the door caught my attention. My eyes darted to the clock, reading the numbers 1:14.

Who on earth could be knocking on my door at this time? Better yet, why?

I checked on the twins quickly before opening the door to a drunken Mccree.

“Jesse?” I asked, eyes wide.

“Heya, darling.” He grinned, making my heart warm.

“You’re drunk.” I stated, stepping out into the hallway, closing the door behind me so that we wouldn’t wake Jacob or Jessica up.

“And you’re beautiful, no matter how much you’ve grown.” He slurred, wrapping his arms tightly around me. “I’ve missed you, darling.” He hugged me as I felt wetness on my back.

Is he… crying?

“You don’t mean that, Jess… You’re just drunk.” I sighed, prying his hands off of me, much to both our dismay.

“Mummy?” Jessica’s quiet voice whispered behind us as she opened the door, her white bunny in hand.

Once again, both Jesse’s and my eyes widened, McCree suddenly sobering up.

“W-Who’s this?” He asked, eyes still wide.

“This is Jessica.” I said, eyes fixated of Jessica as her hand slipped into my own.

“Who’s this, mummy?” She yawned.

“Nobody, sweetheart. Go back to bed.” She smiled as I patted her hair, just as Jacob walked into the hallway.

“C’mon, Jess. Mum said back to bed.” He smiled, taking Jessica’s hand from mine and pulling her back into the room.

“Are they-” He began, before I cut him off.

“Look, Jess. We’ll talk tomorrow if you still want too. Just, go sober up and get some sleep. I don’t want to have this conversation when you’ve been drinking.” A sigh escaped my lips while he nodded, turning to walk down the hall without a word.

Jesse…

The entirety of the following day was spent wondering whether or not Jesse would still want to talk to me today. I had a feeling that he would, but I wasn’t certain. I had completely abandoned him, after all.

Despite not knowing, I asked Hana to look after the two siblings for the night, not knowing when/if he would show and I didn’t want to wake them if they were sleeping.

It was around 9pm when as quiet knock came from my door which I hesitantly answered, seeing a red eyed McCree outside.

“Can I- Can I come in?” He asked, at which I nodded, widening the door to allow him to enter.

We took a seat on the blue couch that was tucked away in a corner, our knees pressed together making my heart race at the contact.

“Look, I’m just going to be blunt here,” he started, making me nervous, “are they mine?”

I looked to the ground, avoiding his gaze as I nodded.

“Is that why you left?” He asked quietly, hand grabbing my cheek as he asked me to look at him.

I gave another nod.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared.” I mumbled, tears welling up in my eyes.

His puppy dog eyes softened at the sight of me crying.

“Don’t cry, darling. C’mere.” Jesse sighed, pulling me into a tight hug as I sobbed into the crook of his neck.

“I missed you.” I cried, gripping him tightly as if it would be the last time I could ever hold him because, in my mind, it could be.

“Me too, sweetpea. Me too.” He said, pulling away to wipe my tears.

“I-I’m sorry.” I blubbered, feeling oddly ridiculous but also nice that I could get this off of my chest which is something I’ve wanted since I left.

To get rid of the guilt.

“Shh, it’s okay.”

It took a while for me to calm down, but with his touch and comforting words, I did.

Now we were sat here in silence, both of us not knowing what to say. I was avoiding all eye contact, feeling incredibly weak for crying in front of him.

“Darling,” McCree whispered, placing his hand on my cheek, “look at me.” He smiled, lifting my face to meet his eyes.

We stared at each other for a second, before his lips crashed against mine as he pushed me to lay down on the couch, his arms holding him above my body while he kissed me, a feeling I loved each time.

“Fuck, darling. I love you.” He groaned into the kiss as his lips made their way down to my neck.

“Me too, Jess.” I moaned as he kissed me, occasionally sucking to leave marks.

His hands moved down to my t-shirt making my eyes widen.

“J-Jess, I can’t. I’m sorry.” I stuttered, gently grabbing his hand.

He immediately stopped, sitting up, pulling me with him.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, darling.” He smiled; hands placed reassuringly on my shoulders. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

All I could do is nod.

“I’ll see you again, right?” He asked as we stood outside my door.

“Of course, Jess.” I smiled, leaning up to kiss him.

“Good.” He grinned, kissing me again before leaving.

As I closed the door behind me, I leant against it with a wide smile which was soon dropped when I read the text on my phone.

Unknown Number: Glad someone is happy.

Panic clouded my room as I paced around the bathroom, just like all those years ago.

Don’t run, don’t run, don’t run.

“It’s okay, Y/N. He can’t hurt you anymore. He has no hold on you.”

But that damned message kept running through my head.

Was he watching?

Is he going to hurt the twins?

Or Jess?

Or me?

“Nono, I can do this. I can look after them.” I spoke into the mirror, staring at my reflection before raising my fist and hitting it, the glass shard shattering all over the floor, some in my hand.

“Mummy!” Jacobs voice shrieked as he walked into the room to see me unsuccessfully attempting to patch my own hand. “What happened?”

“Just an accident, J. Don’t worry.” I smiled, groaning as I failed again.

“You should go see Angela, Y/N.” Hana said, giving me a sympathetic look as she entered the room with Jessica.

I gave her a quick nod, heading to go see Angela who would definitely lecture me.

Once I was all patched up, I headed back to my room.

Hana had agreed to look after the twins again so I could take a moment to collect myself, but they’d be returning soon. The second I opened the door, I was pinned against it?

“Who said you could be happy without me, huh?” A demanding voice yelled, hand hitting the wall beside me making me flinch.

Looking up, I spotted him.

My ex.

Not by choice, but an ex nonetheless.

“I’m not yours anymore, Damien. In fact, I never was.” I spat in his face making him snarl, hands harshly gripping my wrists, pinning them above me.

He put my wrists in one hand, his other hand lifting my shirt to reveal multiple cigarette burns which Damien had inflicted on me for the greater good; the greater good being the protection of my children.

“So, he’s the dad, huh? The cowboy?” He chuckled darkly, placing a hard slap across my cheek which I knew would leave a mark, if it hadn’t already.

“Let go of me.” I demanded, doing my best to make me voice remain monotone to hide the fear and panic I was feeling currently.

“No.”

“I think the pretty lady asked you to let her go, buddy.”

Both our gazes darted towards the door where Jesse stood with our kids.

“What you gonna do if I don’t, cowboy?” Damien smirked which soon disappeared the second Jess pulled out his peacekeeper.

“Well you see,” He said, spinning it around his finger. “I do happen to know how to use this. Not only that, but I’m pretty sure I’d get away with it because it is technically protecting my girl.”

While Damien was distracted, I took the chance to knee him where it hurts, making him groan and kneel down giving me time to punch him across the face.

“Never and I mean never touch me again.” I spat, stepping over his body which was now curled up on the floor as I headed towards my family.

“You okay, darling?” Jesse asked, stroking my hair while Jessica and Jacob hugged me tightly.

“I’m fine, Jess. Thank you for coming.” I smiled, blushing slightly.

“Anytime, sweetpea.” He winked, walking over to Damien to give him a harsh kick to the face making Jacob and Jessica giggle as they did the same.

“C’mon, lets leave this loser.” Jess smiled at me, taking the hands of the twins but not before giving me a peck on the cheek.

In the end, both Jessica and Jacob were told about Jesse and I; not to the full extent but to the point they knew enough and they loved him. I think it may have partly been for the fact that he had potentially saved my life, but it could also be how lovely he is to them and me.

“Hey, darling.” Jess’s voice called from the other room.

I quickly walked there. Jacob and Jessica were with Hana and Lucio so it was just the two of us together in our room.

“I never did get the chance to ask you this before everything happened but…”

I watched him get down on one knee.

“Will you marry me?”

163 notes · View notes

sicklysticky-honnebee · 5 years

Note

Aphrodisiac thing with McCree?

Sure thing! I did my best to make it as different as I could from my first one, but i think it embodies the same elements. I took the liberty of being a bit experimental with this, i hope it pays off🤞🏽

Let’s call this one…

Love Potion #69

- McCree x f!Reader -

Word count: ~4400

Warnings: smut, aphrodisiacs, drugging, DUB-CON, (no actual 69ing, I just wanted to be cheeky)

EDIT: FOR THE LIFE OF ME I can’t get a read more on this thing, so sorry :(

–

Jesse watches from afar as you take another long sip of the drink he’d brought you. If you noticed a strange taste to it, you never spoke up about it. The label on the bottle of the little pink pill he’d dropped into your drink claimed to leave no trace, be it taste, scent, or color, and it certainly followed through in every aspect he could observe. It dissolved so fast once it hit liquid he was sure to have missed the tiny burst of pink fizz if he’d blinked, but the price he paid to get his hands on said bottle was almost suspicious in its inexpensiveness, so he had his doubts.

But you drank the whole thing down, laughing and joking with some of your fellow agents without ever so much as looking down at your glass. Just enjoying the little shindig thrown together to celebrate a job well done- a mission completed without a single hitch, each and every one of you home safe and sound without so much as a scratch. If anything called for a party, it was that.

You throw your head back, peels of laughter ringing through the low hum of the various conversations going on around you. The person you were sitting with, someone he had never bothered to learn the name of, was making you laugh in your tipsy state, and Jesse feels something heavy and painful tightening in his chest. What he wouldn’t give to march over there and drag you someplace where the only person pulling lovely sounds like that from you was him.

But tonight was about patience. Keeping his head on long enough to avoid scaring you away, like the last time he tried to make his feelings known -that being the only reason you chose to spend your evening with someone other than him, still working through the shock of having one of your closest friends profess their undying love for you, and needing a little space to sort it all out.

That was alright, he understood. Love was a scary thing, especially when it was as deep and all-consuming as the one between the two of you. And he’d be the first to admit that he came on a little too strong that night, but that was just the effect you had on him. He’d give you as much space and time as you needed, but what he couldn’t have was you running off into the arms of another.

Especially not with that little pill in your system. The effects were meant to be slow coming, preventing you from noticing they were even there until you were in the thick of it and craving whatever warm body was nearest, and he had every intention of making sure it was him.

You stand suddenly, empty glass in hand as you say something Jesse can’t hear to your friend, before giving them a smile and turning to leave. You stumble over nothing, a little clumsy from the alcohol in your system, and would have fallen flat on your face if your friend hadn’t caught you in their arms.

And that was Jesse’s cue to muscle in, he’s up to his feet in an instant and crossing the room in a few quick strides, fire in his eyes as stares down his weak excuse for competition.

“I got ‘em,” he grits out, not waiting for permission from either of you as he scoops you under his own arm. He looks down at the empty glass in your hand, then shoves it in their direction. “But you can take this.”

“Jesse!” you cry, pure joy in your voice as you beam up at him, a tired but excited look in those pretty eyes of yours. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

He smiles at that, heart thudding in his chest, happy to see you arent intent on avoiding him anymore, will make his night a whole lot easier. Lessen the weighted pit of guilt in his heart ever so slightly.

“I’m glad I’m here too,” he says, guiding you away from your friend, whoever they were, they’re irrelevant now, every bit of your attention now focused on him. “Why don’t we get you back to your room before you trip over anything else. There’s somethin’ I wanna talk to you about.”

You don’t fight him at all, seem downright pleased to be tucked under his arm as he leads you out the door and down the hallways of the Blackwatch base.

Jesse wasn’t exactly proud of what he was doing, always wanted to wait till you came around on your own, but you just kept forcing his hand with this. Proving to him everyday how perfect you were for one another, and yet refusing to cross over that line with him, insisting that the friendship between you was enough.

It was frustrating, not being able to get you to see reason, so he’d just have to settle for showing it to you.

By the time he reaches your room, you’ve grown heavy in his arms, body starting to relax and soften as the drug works itself into your system, and you drop down to your bed with a sigh, eyes fluttering for a moment before it passes.

“Hey- turn around for a second,” you say, hands going to grasp your uniform in preparation to remove it, trusting him enough to follow through with your request. And he does, complies without question and moves himself till it’s just his back facing you, eyes glued forward and a little smile on his face as he starts to remove his own extra layers. He knows the drill. Listens closely to the rustle of the fabric as its removed from your body, sneaking glances out of the corner of his eye as more of your bare skin is revealed.

He’d long since lost the will to abstain from peeping on you, the temptation too high when you felt comfortable enough to strip yourself down while he was only a few feet away. He used to feel so guilty, betraying all that trust you had for him just so he’d have something to fantasize about later, but the longer you denied your true feelings towards him, the harder it was to deny himself what was only a sideways glance away. He was only a man, after all, and a man in love at that.

Blood rushes both upwards to his face and down to his cock when he gathers through glimpses that you’re down to just your underwear, the muted sound of your bra dropping to the ground deafening to his ears. Jesse resists the urge to palm himself through his pants, his length straining against stiff fabric at the thought of everything he’s wanting being so close. There wasn’t more than a thread of self control, taunt a fraying with every second you rummage through your room in search of your sleep clothes with nothing more than a pair of panties on, keeping him from turning around and pouncing on you then and there.

He thanks the Lord (and at the same time curses) when you finally find the top you’re looking for and pull it over your head. It helps him pull a little bit more of his sense back out from where it got lost in his dick, reminds him he’s been standing still for too long, half hard and still mostly dressed, and you were bound to notice at some point.

He makes quick work of the rest of his clothes, letting them drop to the ground in a messy pile, joined by his gloves and belt and hat, till he’s down to nothing but jeans and a t-shirt, all while breathing through his nose in attempts to will down his erection. Reminding himself to hold it together, he’d have you soon enough, he just had to be patient.

“You can turn around now,” you call softly, accompanied by the sound of a creaking bed frame as you make yourself comfortable upon the stiff mattress once again.

He does just that, then crawls onto the bed beside you, back against the headboard, letting you nuzzle and cling to the exposed skin of his arm, practically melting into the bulk and the heat of it. He doesn’t mind one bit, encourages it even, throwing the arm around your shoulders to bring you even closer.

“God, it feels so good to be back in my own bed,” you sigh, rubbing up against him like a cat- practically purring like one too, and he can hear the slight slur in your speech, sees how wide your pupils have blown. Notices ever subtle rock of your hips as heat is no doubt flooding and pulsing between your thighs.

You squirm, happy little noises coming from your lips as the feeling of his bare skin and body heat makes your skin flush and tingle. He can only imagine how wet you are for him, he could probably bend you over and slide right in without any trouble at all.

You’re probably more sensitive too- another thing the label had promised, and his eyes drop down to your cleavage, looking so full and inviting against the tight fabric of the tank top you wore, the neckline low and the straps thin, leaving not much of you left to the imagination. He licks his lips, imagining all cute little noises he could pull from you sucking on the perky nipples clearly straining against the thin fabric.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?”

He looks down at you, a relaxed and blissed out expression on your face as you stare back at him, chin resting against his shoulder, and his chest swells with so much love for you he knows he can’t wait any longer.

He takes one big hand up to your chin and holds it as gently as he can with years worth of longing making his hands shake in anticipation, doesn’t give you a chance to question the sudden tender touch, just crashes his lips into yours as he forces you into a kiss that makes him feel like he should be hearing violins swelling in the background while fireworks go off above your heads.

He groans against your lips as he forces you onto your back, your head sinking into the pillow as he kisses you harder, hot tongue licking sloppily into your mouth while he throws a leg over you, straddling your hips, allowing the perfect opportunity to grind his length, already fully hard and pulsing eagerly, against heated flesh beneath your clothes.

You’re whining against his lips, your own tongue pushing back against his and soft body wriggling underneath him as he slides one hand up under your top to get a feel of all that warm, soft skin. It reads like reciprocation, downright desperation for him to keep doing what he’s doing in his frenzied, lovesick mind, and he pulls away from you just long enough to retch each article of clothing from both your bodies and tosses them over his shoulder.

You’re staring up at him, panting and shaking, tears in your half lidded eyes as you try to process just what’s going on, to distinguish between what you actually want and what your body is suddenly begging for.

Jesse would be able to see the dilemma in your eyes if he weren’t so distracted by the beautiful sight of you, the subject of his every fantasy and wet dream, fully exposed and now completely at his mercy. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so hard, no ones ever inspired so much fire in his veins, made his cock throb and jump as hard as you do.

You’ve got a thin sheen of sweat covering your body, and to Jesse it looks like you’re glowing in the dim lighting of your bedroom, like an angel from above, come down to earth just to be with him. Your breasts heave with every pant you let out, your nipples tight and inviting, making his mouth water at the thought of getting one in his mouth, but he holds himself back. Knows he could spend forever playing and suckling at your tits- would probably come just from the noises you’d make and a little grinding against the bed too, but you don’t have all night. So he’ll skip right to the crown jewel- all that clear, shimmery slick smeared against the inside of your thighs.

Without any pretense, he shoves a hand between your legs to cup your pussy like he owns it, the sudden yelp you let out is ignored beyond a small coo in your direction. His big, warm fingers wiggle their way in between your slick lower lips, dipping down to the ring of your tight, dripping hole and trailing all that wetness up towards your clit, rubbing sweetly against the hardened nub and making you cry out again.

You’re so eager for him, he thinks, and decides to not keep you waiting any longer, laying himself down on the bed and parting your thigh over his shoulders so his face can nestle right into your little flower.

The first hot swipe of his tongue through your folds was so good his eyes rolled back into his head. You tasted just as sweet as he always knew you would, thighs so soft and warm against his cheeks as they tightened around his head.

And he knew you were enjoying it too, a long, strangled moan ripping itself from your throat when the tip of his tongue dropped down to your fluttering entrance, pushing inside and lapping up your sweetness straight from the source. One of your hands comes down to thread your fingers through his hair, tugging against it with each cry of ecstasy, making him groan against all of your sensitive flesh.

Your sounds only wound him up tighter, unable to resist humping himself into the soft mattress below him as he suckles your clit into his mouth, lapping against it whenever the urge to make you really sing grips him, and you tug at his hair harder.

It wasn’t until the hand he’d shoved between your thighs before came back to try to stretch you out on his fingers that you gave up trying to pull him away from you, and instead use both of your palms to push against his forehead.

He grunts in annoyance as he’s forced away from his meal, it seems not all of the fight had left you. He looks up at you in ire, only for it to melt away in an instant once he sees the distress on your face- tears streaming down your cheeks and lips pulled into a grimace.

“Oh c’mon, baby, its ok,” he says, taking the hands still weakly trying to push him away and threading his fingers between your own, pinning your hands down to your hips and halting your struggles against him. “Just relax for me, I’ll make you feel so good.”

And then he dives back in, getting his fix of your sweet slick and doing his damnedest to lick the defiance right out of you. And after a little more suckling, he seems to lull you back into submission, making you moan and writhe and tighten as you near your climax. He drops one of your hands, lines up the tips of two fingers, ready to slide them inside your cunt and send you hurtling over the edge of pleasure, only for a fist to suddenly come crashing into the side of his nose.

It catches him completely off guard, makes him pull back onto his knees as he goes to press a hand to the bridge of his nose. It smarts, but its nothing compared to some of the blows he’s taken in his line of work, and as soon as the initial shock has dissipated, he’s back on you.

You’d used the precious seconds that he was distracted to move yourself onto your stomach and try to crawl away, but you didn’t get very far in your drugged and drowsy state.

You cry out in terror as two heavy hands grab you by the waist and pull you back to where you were. You try to land another blow on him, but from your positions and your fuddled motor control, it’s all too easy for him to catch your wrists in his hands and pin them down above your head.

“You know,” Jesse snarls from somewhere above you. “I love you, darlin’, and I wanted our first time to be special, but if you’re gonna act like a little brat i might have to start treating you like one.”

You shudder as he lays himself on top of you, his hot, heavy cock resting itself against the soft flesh of your backside as his free hand curls around your neck, pulling your whole body upwards by your windpipe and stealing your breath as he squeezes.

He leans down to your ear and whispers, “Now are you gonna be a good girl for me? Or do i need to string you up and make you take what I have to give?” while he rocks his hips against you -thick, leaking cock leaving a trail of precum as the tip drags itself against your lower back- showing you exactly what giving in will reward you.

He knows it’s getting to you, the primal part of your brain winning out against your good sense as you moan and wiggle in between your sobs, and knows its the primal part that’s speaking when you finally answer.

“Yes,” you manage, voice strained and pitiful as you hang your head, giving into the throbbing between your legs. “I’ll be good! Just, please- make it stop!”

Jesse grunts, pleased with your answer. “Good girl,” He drops you back down to the bed, and you land in the pillow beneath your head, using it to bury your face away to hide from the shameful act you’re forced to commit as your own body conspires against you. He parts your thighs just enough to line the thick head of his cock up with your dripping entrance. “That’s what I like to hear.”

He thrusts in, not even a third of the way down his length, but he still has to pause and breathe, because its never felt like this before.

The muffled cry you let out into the pillow beneath you sends a jolt of pleasure through him while your walls flutter against the intrusion, but yield just as quickly, and before you can even think about protesting, he’s pulling his hips back and shoving them forward again, grunting happily as you take in more of him.

He still hasn’t managed to fill you completely, but he’s deep enough now that the head of his cock is pressed firmly against a delicate spot inside of you that has you moaning and clawing at the sheets, making you squeeze around him hard.

He lays himself down against, crushing your body under his as he nuzzles and kisses against your neck and holds your bound wrists between both his meaty hands.

“How’s that feel, gorgeous?” he whispers in your ears, thrusting forward, taking the time to work himself against you and tease, just to show you how good he’s capable of making you feel.

You moan and kick your legs, mind barely stable enough to hear his question, much less answer it, but you can still work yourself against him, a barely there rocking of your hips in your body’s mindless search for pleasure.

“That good, huh?” He chuckles, deep and low in your ear, and his smile only gets wider as you shudder and clench at the sound of his voice. He thrusts again, still a languid pull that strokes against your swollen insides, knowing it’ll make your body sing while still denying you the hard and fast pace you’re really begging for. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Whatever it is, I’ll give it to ya, I just need to hear you say it.”

You whine, long and frustrated, head dropping back down into the pillow, but your hips rock much more clearly, practically fucking yourself onto him with the force you’re throwing yourself back. Well that’s just cheating. He was a second away from grabbing a hold of your hips and laying a few good smacks on your ass to make you behave, but then he hears a weak mumbling coming from where you’ve got a mouthful of pillow stuffed between your teeth.

He grins, and uses his arm to hook around your neck, straining you head backwards again and grits into your ear, “What was that, sweetpea?”

You sob and sniffle for a moment, and he lets you have your little fit because he knows you’re at your breaking point, if the constant flutter of your pussy is anything to go by.

“Please fuck me, Jesse…”

You have no idea how happy he is to hear those words coming from you.

“All you had to do was ask, baby.”

He keeps your head pulled back away from the bedding, just turns your head so he can smash your lips together, and then he’s shoving the full length of his shaft inside you, and feels you coming just from that, much to his delight.

You moan into his mouth, shiver against his body as the walls of your cunt clench and suck his length inside you until he’s moaning right alongside you, thinking he must’ve died and gone to heaven because this is everything he’s ever wanted.

Your body goes limp in his grip, and he releases you- gently this time, and you nuzzle your cheek into the pillow. You look absolutely wrecked, drooling from kiss swollen lips and a faraway look to your eye, but he can still feel the little jerks of your hips as you try to urge him on again. Can’t comply fast enough when he hears your little voice whimper, “More, please.”

He smiles, heart fit to burst as both his heavy hands settle around your waist. With pleasure.

He doesn’t hold back anymore, uses his grip on your hips to pull your lax body back onto his cock in a quick, steady rhythm, never pulling out more than an inch before he’s shoving himself back into your tight body

It feels so good to do this, so satisfying to feel you throbbing and creaming around him after all this time, and he cant help the praise that spills from his lips. He must’ve told you he loves you a hundred times before he feels you flutter around him again, whimpering through your climax, and still ready for more.

And he gives it to you- fucks you through orgasm after orgasm until the sheets below you are soaked with your juices, and every slap of his hips against your ass is wet and sticky in a way that brings him that much closer to coming undone.

He’s done his best to hold out as long as possible, wanted every moment he could spare inside your sweet little pussy, but eventually the tight coil is his belly starts to get a little too close to snapping, and he knows he won’t be able to hold out for much longer.

It’s then that he pulls himself out of you fully, trailing clear lines of your release that break and cling to his ruddy, bobbing erection. The whine you let out makes him huff, so impatient, but he has no intention of making you wait long. Grabs you by the hips and flips you onto your back so he can see your face. Wants to burn the expression you make into his brain when he shoots all his thick, white ropes inside of you.

He’s pushing back into you in a matter of seconds, both of you groaning into each other’s mouths as he splits your walls open, stretching them tight around his girth, then falls right back into the pace he’d set before.

He threads his fingers through yours once again, not because he thinks you’ll fight back, no, you’re long passed that. But simply because he wants to be close to you, wants this loving union to feel just as intimate to you as it does to him.

“I love you,” he declares, not for the first time, and certainly not the last, staring deep into your dazed, lust-filled eyes. “So goddamn much.“

His words come out winded, he’s reached his end, no more than a few hard thrusts that make you clench up tight around him before this is all over.

He leans down and takes your lips again, presses his whole, sweat-covered body to yours, wants to hold you to him with no escape when he reaches his end.

With a few hot pants against your lips, and one, deep, drawn out groan, he buries his cock to the root, presses hard against the mouth of your womb and let’s his cum flood your swollen walls.

But the time the pangs of his orgasm subsided, and your pussy had stopped fluttering, neither of you had the energy to do more than lay against each other in a sweaty, sticky heap and try to catch your breath.

Jesse isn’t sure if the fact that you seem satisfied means that the drug and all it’s effects have worn off, but he takes advantage of the fact that you still aren’t fighting him, and scoops you up around the waist, taking you with him as he moves onto his back.

You’re dead weight against his chest, in some sort of daze it seems, but still living and breathing, so he doesn’t worry. Just strokes your hair and presses kisses to the top of your head, letting his mind wander, excited for what’s on the horizon of your new future together, now that he’s finally made you his.

–

AN: Sorry if this is a hot mess, and I’m real sorry I’m so slow at getting these requests out. I’m currently in the middle of trying to recover from being VERY sick, and it’s been slow going for a while now. So it might take me a bit to get these out, but that doesn’t mean I’m not working on them! (and that certainly doesn’t mean you can’t send more in!)

Thank you for your patience~💜🐝

#idk what it is #but theres something like deeply relaxing about writing smut for me #almost therapeutic #so this sorta ended up turning into a vent fic that i desperately scrambled to make readable #sorry if its not sexy :(#yandere mccree #yandere mccree x reader #yandere jesse mccree #yandere jesse mccree x reader #yandere overwatch #yandere overwatch x reader #request

692 notes · View notes

overdrivels · 4 years

Text

The Way to a Heart (19)

<<Chapter 18

“We’re clear.”

Hanzo receives no acknowledgment, but he does not need it. The truck they’re tailing persists in its speed several cars ahead, unimpeded by the stretch of envious glares from people in the next lane over. Hanzo speeds up slightly, relieved to be putting more distance between himself and The Fence.

It’s fortuitous that your restaurant had such good relations with the officials at The Fence. They didn’t even check their passports—one look at the logos on their trucks and a quick glance at the fake delivery schedule gave him a free pass. If Fareeha were with him instead of Ana, he’s sure that he would have had to sit through a security operations lecture. (Luckily she’s with your ex-employees at Cœur d’Artichaut.)

When Argus handed them the keys to two of their delivery trucks and a set of delivery uniforms, and assured them they would not be subject to any checks, he was skeptical.

The team was technically human (and omnic) trafficking—and if you included the weapons they all kept on them, arms trafficking, too.

There were last minute arguments about whether or not they should be bringing their weapons as a precaution. The chances of getting arrested and having their hostages found didn’t sit well with Hanzo, but being unarmed was not a risk he wanted to take either. In the end, they all agreed to take the bare minimum. (Now that he knows they could’ve gotten through the border without being checked, he almost wished he brought everything.)

Then came the question of who would drive.

In another overabundance of caution, Zarya asked, “Do we have any Spanish speakers to distract the guards?”

“McCree speaks,” Ana offered a little too cheerfully. “Don’t you?”

Hanzo was surprised to see the face McCree made. For all the bravado he exudes and cloaks himself in, this was the one time where he does not seem to be entirely in control or feel relaxed to joke about.

With a tight smile that does not crinkle his eyes like it should, he uttered, “With all due respect ma’am, can’t go boastin’ about a man’s abilities like that when he can’t deliver.”

“Oh? When did you learn to be so modest, hm?” She raised a hand, looking ready to pinch one of his cheeks, but took his hat and replaced it with a delivery driver cap instead.

McCree doesn’t answer, taking away the bundle of clothes from Ana to change. Ana chuckles fondly to herself, handing out the rest of the uniforms to himself and Lúcio.

The set-up is simple. Two delivery trucks, the team split into two.

Hanzo and Ana will be in the second truck, trailing behind the first, and watching out for any apparent danger (and armed with sleep darts for any potentially troublesome situations). The first truck will have the hostages with Zarya and Genji riding in the back with them. McCree will be driving with Lúcio as passenger.

At first, Hanzo sincerely doubted McCree’s ability to blend in and be forgettable. He was quickly proven wrong when the only indicator of McCree’s return was the slamming of the truck door. It was mortifying to know McCree was self-aware enough to change his walking rhythm and presence, even more so for Hanzo to realize he still had blind spots in his ability.

Ana, for all her wisdom, insisted that sunglasses will be enough to throw off any facial recognition. (McCree decided to take a much more drastic route and applied a type of hardlight facial reconstruction device to his ensemble. It is not something available on the market, nor is it something cheap that he could have grabbed off the street like one of his shitty bottles of whiskey.)

Somehow, they all managed to get past The Fence without tipping off anyone or setting off any facial recognition alerts. Bewildering, really. Now he wonders if he wasted too much time in the past trying to disguise himself when a cheap pair of sunglasses would have achieved the same effect.

As though reading his mind, Ana said, “Sunglasses and a hat. Works every time.”

With the border out of the way, there is quiet.

The sights around him quickly become a blur. Amidst the silence, Hanzo manages to carve out a small space in his mind where he finds himself sucked into.

Memories of yesterday. Of Genji ordering a plate of curry which Hanzo presented without a word, of the nerves that seized him and rendered him more immobile than any other battle ever has. It robbed him of words and time as something long past yet fresh echoed in his mind: ”If your shitty curry kills me, I’ll haunt you.”

The minutes crawled by, the weight of time has never been so palpable, pulling and pulling away from him as he waited for Genji to return the dish.

Maybe Genji’ll throw it in his face or collapse in front of him and let him know that he finally finished what he couldn’t have done years ago with the very thing that might have been his only path toward repairing what was broken.

He couldn’t stomach eating dinner in the interim, too clogged with age-old ‘what-if’s and a lifetime of unrealized fear that has come back to haunt him in spades.

He couldn’t say it at the time, but he was grateful that you were there to keep him occupied. In between him plating and preparing dishes for the other straggling members on base, you put corn husks in his hands, walking him through memory lane and the makings of a tamale.

The act was repetitive and soothing in its own way. He had to take care not to overfill the tamales and fold them properly so the filling doesn’t fall out which was hard considering just how much stuff you wanted inside of them.

“This is for your mission tomorrow. I wanted to make your food to order, but Mad—Dr. Ziegler wants to do check-ups in the morning.” You didn’t quite pout, but it was evident enough in your voice. The sound was so endearing, Hanzo temporarily forgot his anxiety.

“We still have MREs, you don’t need to trouble yourself.”

You made a small noise of disgust, scrunching your face.

Hanzo laughed quietly, carefully pinching the husk closed. “You dislike MREs?”

“They’re fine for emergencies, but when you have the chance to eat a hot, homemade meal, it’s better to eat that.” Underneath your breath, you muttered, “Unlike a certain someone.”

The idle chatter lasted until Athena announced Genji’s arrival. Age-old fear gripped him anew and kept him glued to his seat in a cold sweat. At least the curry didn’t kill him. The fact that he came here to return his dish under his own power must have meant it was at least edible. And maybe, maybe Genji will leave without a word to him.

It would be what he deserved—more than what he deserved, perhaps.

But then, you have a hand on his shoulder and a poorly disguised smile on your face. “Someone wants to speak to the chef of today’s dinner.”

He couldn’t find it in himself to tear your words apart, and so gets up as slowly as he can, pretending to be reluctant to put down the work-in-progress tamale.

Something inside him begins to rattle as the distance between himself and the service window closes. There, he can see the shine of Genji’s mechanical parts, partially hidden by a hoodie. His hands were in his pockets, probably ready to strike and strangle him for feeding such a poor facismallie of their childhood curry.

Unconsciously, he laughed to himself. Not that Genji could do any better. If he recalled, Genji could barely put together a sandwich. Always receiving, never giving. Well, he gave everyone a headache, that’s for sure.

Before his thoughts could travel down its inevitable destination, the sight of the tray stopped him in his tracks.

Empty. The plate was empty.

Strangely, the sight was enough to make the buzzing anxiety in his chest melt away, replaced by an indescribable feeling of numbness. There are traces of curry on the spoon. The napkin was used.

The cheeky brat even said, "Should've added fukujinzuke,” when Hanzo could say nothing.

It’s not a ‘thank you’ or any normal expression of gratitude, but it would do. It’s something they can both agree on.

Mouth dry, Hanzo rasped, “Next time.”

“Next time,” Genji echoed, a promise that feels less like shackles and more like the comfortable weight of something keeping him grounded to this reality.

Genji left him with that. Time passed and he somehow was kneeling against the ground. The tips of his fingers and his chest were tingling until they were too numb for him to feel. Maybe he was hyperventilating or maybe he was crying without the tears; he couldn't know. He couldn't even feel his teeth.

All he knew was the warm hand you placed between his shoulder blades and your smiling voice in his ear. "A little bit of love goes a long way.”

It’s more of your ‘love’ nonsense, but strangely, he didn’t feel the need to rebuke you, nor does he feel as heavy as he did before.

That dinner didn’t fix anything, but it felt like another step in the right direction. After this mission, there might be a better chance at repairing what was broken.

Hanzo grips the steering wheel tight. He just has to resolve himself.

The open road is eerie. As they drive further and further from the large cities, a sense of agoraphobia creeps in from every spanse of empty space. He tenses each time a vehicle drives up, keeping them in his sights until they could no longer be seen.

They spiral up old roads where overgrown trees loom over them and the rock faces of cliffs threaten to spill onto the road. Their destination is an abandoned town on the other side of Parque Natural Sierra de las Nieves, one of many that sprung up far too quickly when Overwatch built Watchpoint: Gibraltar.

“When we first made Gibraltar a Watchpoint,” Ana explains in between the radio silence, pulling Hanzo from his thoughts, “there were many towns that popped up. Gibraltar isn’t very big, you see, so people started building out in Spain. It was a very popular destination.”

She laughs, the sound tinged with nostalgic sorrow. “After Overwatch fell, I suppose most of these towns must have vacated. A shame, really. I like visiting when I was stationed here.”

“I see.”

“Of course, nothing compared to Hawai’i. Have you been?”

“Twice. Once for business, another for—” A job, he wants to say, but supposes that’s the same as ‘business’ to anyone unaware of the difference. “More business,” he says with a wince.

“A hit, yes?”

He nods, and she smiles knowingly, leaning back into her seat and propping an elbow against the open window.

“Well, you should go there sometime for vacation. The view and food is very good. Though, probably not as good as a certain someone’s?”

His face drops into what he hopes is cold exasperation, but Ana only laughs. She pulls out a little package from one the drink holders in the truck and begins to unwrap it. One of the tamales you gave to them this morning before their mission.

He had one on the way as a snack. He can’t say the texture agrees with him—fluffy, but dense, and somewhat crumbly in the way that reminds him of Tracer’s shortbread cookies for some reason—but the filling is full of flavor and near bursting with sauce, enough to seep through the corn husks you’ve tried so hard to teach him how to fold. (It wasn’t difficult except when you refused to budge on the amount of filling required, but he couldn’t help failing several more times than necessary just to have your earnest instruction.)

He only hopes that the tamale does not burst in his pocket and he’ll have the chance to enjoy it on the return trip.

From the corner of his eyes, he can see her face light up as she takes her first bite. A small bulb of pride blooms in his chest to see that sort of expression on the old soldier, but that’s quickly extinguished when her own face drops. Holding out the tamale in front of her, she studies it.

“Just like old times,” Ana muses quietly to herself. There is a sense of bitterness to her voice, the wrinkles of her face deepening as she slips into thought. Soon, the desolate town comes into sight in the distance, and Hanzo’s nerves begin to rattle. A sense of foreboding sits uncomfortably in his chest like a cold, heavy stone.

Everything has been going well. It may be just paranoia or because he is still on edge from the attack a mere week ago, but he can’t help but feel something’s wrong.

Something about his body language must give him away. Beside him, Ana gives a short, inquisitive hum. She shoves the leftover husk into a pocket and readjusts her seatbelt. “Are you scared, Shimada?”

Hanzo bites back a sarcastic snort. He keeps his eyes on the road and on the speck in the distance, carefully keeping his expression neutral.

“No.” Then he asks, “Should I be?”

“I thought your sense would be sharper than this old lady’s. Don’t tell me the Shimada name is just for show.”

“Do you sense something?”

“Who knows. It could be the senseless ramblings of an old lady nearing her time.”

Of all the people he would expect to meet their end soon, it would not be her. He’d make sure of it.

Her comments do soothe some of his nerves, knowing that he is not the sole person able and responsible for keeping a lookout. Begrudgingly, even he has to admit having competent teammates is a good thing, and as he always does, he hopes he doesn’t become too accustomed to it.

In slow motion, Hanzo watches as the truck drifts. To the left. Back toward the middle. To the left again before it disappears over the horizon in a swerve.

Ana wastes no time clicking on her communicator and demanding answers. “McCree, report.”

“Lost control of vehicle. Tryin’ to get back on track. Suspected override.” Then there’s cursing and McCree mutters, “Sombra, if this is you, I’m puttin’ this on your margarita tab.”

Ana clicks her tongue and begins to dig through the bag that lies between them.

“Shimada. Stop the car.”

With a quiet screech, the truck stops. Beside him, Ana pulls out a pair of binoculars and peers through them. Whatever she sees makes her click her tongue again.

In a flurry of motion, Ana shoves the binoculars into his hands and climbs out of the truck with a look of grim irritation. “Keep an eye on them.”

Obediently, Hanzo brings the binoculars to his eyes.

From the abandoned buildings—or previously abandoned buildings—emerges several dozen Talon agents, all in their collective uniforms, fully armed and with the truck focused in their sights. Hanzo’s heart stutters in his chest as a dark figure approaches the truck.

It doesn’t seem like they’ve noticed Hanzo’s and Ana’s truck yet, or they’re just deliberately ignoring them. Even so, the situation sits poorly with him.

In his ear are quiet orders from Ana and one worded updates from McCree.

There shouldn’t have been anyway for Talon to have gotten ahead of them. A snap of anger burns inside him when he thinks that your staff must have betrayed them again.

Hanzo’s brain fumbles, clicking through a number of emotions before it lands hard on forceful calm.

No. Blaming anyone would not save them from this situation. Besides, even if your staff betrayed them today, it would not explain how Talon was so well prepared for their arrival. No one knew where they were going to go.

What could they do now?

A dip in the truck’s weight tears Hanzo’s attention away from the scene for a moment. Ana climbs back into her seat with a duffel bag. Sensing Hanzo’s curiosity, she smiles wryly and says, “You don’t expect me to be underprepared, did you?”

“No, I suppose not.”

She huffs to herself. “I’m old, not senile. Now keep watching them. Be prepared to drive.”

Taking her instruction, he looks through the binoculars again. He could only see McCree’s disguised face from his angle, but the man fiddles with something by his head for a moment and then in Hanzo’s ear, the sounds of rustling and open air filters in. He must have set his communicator to capture surrounding sounds. Then, his face seems to flicker and the full beard and everything else has returned to his usual face.

Silently, Mccree and Lúcio are forced out at gunpoint with their hands raised. They have nowhere to go. They’re out of range for them to help, outnumbered, and outgunned.

Both of them are brought out in front of the truck where someone in all black awaits them.

“Well, well. What do we have here?”

A gravelly voice comes across, coarse and wispy. It’s not a voice that sounds remotely human, but neither does it sound like an omnic. It sets Hanzo’s nerves on edge.

It is the sounds of a dying man who refuses to die, hanging onto life by their teeth. It is the voice of those victims who were unfortunate enough to not die instantly, who were able to waste their last dying breaths cursing him and cohorts instead of saying their farewells or confessing their sins.

Ana’s voice is full of disdain as she spits out, “Reaper.”

Hanzo sucks in a breath and adjusts the binoculars for a better look at the masked figure.

He stands tall, dressed entirely in black except for the bone-white mask. It’s strange, but what little skin is showing has an ashen-blue quality to it, as though he were rotting.

Hanzo has heard rumors about him. The infamous mercenary known to haunt bullet-ridden battlegrounds like a vengeful ghost. He supposedly has few restraints and even fewer loyalties to anyone or anything. The number of people who have encountered him and lived to tell the tale are few and far in between.

Why would someone like him be here?

Reaper’s head does a sweeping motion at McCree, and he scoffs. “You look ridiculous.”

“Looked in a mirror lately?” McCree shoots back as though he’s had it in his back pocket the whole time. It’s an odd act of familiarity that only comes with spending long amounts of time together. Hanzo doesn’t dare to decipher the meaning behind it.

“You have something of ours. Hand them over and we will settle this. Nice and easy.”

“Didn’t know Talon had such great HR,” Lúcio mutters sarcastically.

McCree interjects. “We would’ve if y’all just waited another half hour.”

“And let you get away under such promising circumstances? Not a chance.” Reaper motions to a few of Talon’s members. “Get to the back of the truck. Open it up.”

“And what about the second truck, sir?”

Cold fear wrings Hanzo’s stomach into knots, the dragons beneath his skin clamoring. As if sensing Hanzo’s gaze, Reaper looks directly at him, the distance be damned, before he turns away.

“Ignore them.”

And the icy fear turns hot—how dare Reaper look down on him.

Reaper makes a motion with a clawed hand. Several people nod and fan out, approaching the back of the truck where Genji and Zarya were.

Hanzo is half a second away from tossing his binoculars aside and rushing out there—those two cannot be caught. Genji cannot be caught. But Ana squeezes his shoulder, urging him not to move.

“Not yet. Stick to the plan.”

‘What plan?’ he wants to hiss. It’s not like they had a specific contingency for being cut off and surrounded by one of Talon’s most elite operatives. He has half a mind to drive the truck straight through the crowd and tear out Reaper’s face for the thinly veiled insult.

But the grip on his shoulder turns painful, telling him to settle down. He grits his teeth and tries to bear it.

With another group now surrounding the back of the truck, two operatives nod at each other.

The doors open. Guns are trained at the inside of the truck, shrouded in darkness.

Hanzo waits with bated breath as they wave out the first hostage. He cautiously steps out and is pulled into the depths of the crowd where Hanzo loses sight of him. That’s one.

There’s a brief lull before the second person comes out, looking around like she can’t believe she’s free. She is also absorbed by the larger group, past the ring of gunmen. That’s two.

The third files out just as slowly.

Hanzo gnashes his teeth, his heart pounding in his ears. He needs to be patient, he knows, but with each person he counts, it’s as though he were counting to Genji’s death. Once the last person exits, there would be nothing stopping Talon from openly firing into the truck or destroying it with Genji and Zarya inside.

The fourth person exits.

There’s still no word from anyone on the communicator. No sign that Genji is even in the truck. No, the lingering glow of green that Hanzo saw through the darkness of the truck before it closed is stamped firmly in his mind. Genji is in there.

Just three more.

From the darkness, the fifth person emerges.

Hanzo finds his palms damp as he grips the binoculars just a little tighter than necessary. His mouth, on the contrary, is dry.

Two more.

A few seconds pass.

And then it stretches into a minute.

What is taking so long? With his binoculars, he can’t see into the darkness. There should have been two more people—so why have they not come out?

The answer makes itself apparent a short moment later.

The shocking pink of Zarya’s hair peeks out of the truck as she exits with one person held close. Immediately after, Genji follows with a hostage of his own, all of his lights turned off.

It’s then all the breath rushes out of Hanzo and a short wave of relief saps all the strength from his hands.

They were smart. They chose to cover themselves with the Talon operatives instead of remaining as sitting ducks, awaiting their doom. It’s a risky decision, but one that gives them a greater chance at survival. Though, with all but two of Talon’s members back in the fold, who knows if they may just forsake the two for the greater purpose of eliminating Overwatch?

Faced with the crowd, it is Genji who speaks first.

“Clear a path.” As though to emphasize the seriousness of the point, every bit of LED on his person comes to life, the once soft green now a piercing threat.

As though amused, Reaper waves a hand and a path is cleared, allowing McCree and Lúcio to join the other duo. Even reunited, Zarya and Genji did not show any signs of releasing their prisoners. Though the twist to Zarya’s face shows she’s less comfortable with this than Genji.

It’s clear to Hanzo then that it was Genji’s plan. Dastardly.

Mccree even has the audacity to ask, “So, any chance of us leaving here alive?”

“Hm.”

Reaper paces back and forth, his long jacket billowing dramatically behind him with each step. He truly looks as though he were contemplating the idea, switching between a hand on his chin and crossing his arms.

Until he stops and from nowhere, produces one long shotgun.

“No.” — “Hit the deck!”

Shots ring out, chaos erupts, and bodies blur together.

“Drive, drive!” Ana shouts.

Hanzo drops his binoculars, slams his foot on the accelerator, and drives the truck straight into the crowd. Bodies duck and jump out of the way. Bullets rain down on the truck. The sound is strange, but he has no time to think about it.

One hand over the other, Hanzo maneuvers the vehicle in a screeching circle until a large enough space has been created for them and throws open the door. He drops down to the ground just before a hail of bullets embed themselves where his head would have been. Somewhere in the truck, there’s the sounds of something breaking and he manages to catch a glimpse of the hover mechanism failing—the entire truck collapses onto the ground, no longer able to hold itself up.

The truck is useless now, he supposes.

“What is the plan?” Zarya shouts over the growing conflict.

“Gather. We have to get out of here alive. Switching channels,” Ana replies coolly. Presumably, she’s gone to call for backup. Only one more mode of transportation exists and he can’t be sure it’ll last this scruffle.

Rushing for the nearest Talon agents, he throws a kick and knocks one agent on their ass, snatching their gun away from them. Hanzo tosses one over his shoulder at Ana who snatches it out of the air and proceeds to one-up him by taking out three omnics with her bare hands and a fourth with the gun.

Even Zarya has to gawk at the sight, but that’s quickly interrupted.

“Boosti-oh, oh, oh!”

Lúcio tears through the dusty field like he owns it, skidding close to the ground one second and flipping through the air, dodging bullets the next. He is unshackled by the laws of gravity. Neither ground nor sky are his limits.

For the first time in a long time, Hanzo thinks to himself that someone else’s style of fighting is beautiful. It is not the stiff flow of forms and positions.

Instead, it is a fierce dance, it is full of dirty tricks, it is full of life. No one can touch him with that momentum and he has gathered them all too close to not hit each other with friendly fire.

Handspins, backflips, floor swipes—so much energy wasted, but he shows no signs of stopping or slowing. He blasts his opponents back with a soundwave straight into Zarya who follows up with moves that make her prematurely ended weightlifting career seem like a mistake.

Zarya even laughs, having the time to joke, “Welcome to the gun show.”

She’s well equipped even without her gravity gun. He didn’t have much time to admire any more feats of free-falling victims when Lúcio lands beside him, skating around him in a tight circle.

The vibrations that run through him makes his heart race and blood warm. It urges him forward, forward, forward. It lets him punch through people and toss omnics like they’re nothing, it lets him withstand blows that would have annoyed him.

And Genji, he’s right there with him, flipping high over the crowd and drawing their attention while the rest of them work to cull the numbers.

Minutes pass and the opponents are never ending, it seems. His fists throb and bleed, his legs burn, and his heart is playing a war song in his chest. He’s been hit several times, but the shots were all non-lethal for some reason. There is a warm rush that courses through him, intensified by the pain from his injuries. It makes him feel alive, but experience tells him it is a novelty that will soon expire.

He finds himself with his back to a building that he doesn’t remember being close to his original location. Before he knows it, he’s further away from the truck than initially expected. Scaling the building wall as quickly as he could, he catches a glimpse of the entire battlefield.

In the midst of all this chaos, Reaper stands unscathed as though he were a smudge from another world overlaid on theirs—out of place and out of touch. It’s eerie and unnatural, but there are too many people in between them for Hanzo to get close and see for himself if the man was indeed as strong as the rumors say.

Over the communicator, Ana barks, “Genji. Hanzo. McCree. Stay close; you’re straying.”

“Sorry ma’am. Just have a little business—oop.”

Click.

It’s then that everyone’s heads whip over to McCree’s position. Or at least, where he was supposed to be. Somehow, in the few minutes, McCree had closed the distance between himself and Reaper. The crowd parts for McCree and Reaper before they close ranks again.

Talon was looking to isolate the two.

But why?

Ana’s voice explodes in his ear. “McCree! Don’t chase—get back here!”

“He shut off his comms.,” Genji supplies helpfully.

“That—” The sheer anger and—was that fear—in her voice makes Hanzo start. “Shimadas, after them! McCree cannot be alone with Reaper.”

““Understood.””

No, he didn’t understand, but he didn’t have time to ask. Genji leaps over several people, knocking them down to join Hanzo.

“Lúcio. Clear their path!”

“You got it!”

The DJ slides up beside Genji, giving them both a wide smile before he speeds in front of them in a sharp swerve, straight into a crowd that has gathered to stop their advance.

“Push off!”

Even though Hanzo and Genji stand behind him, the resulting pressure from Lúcio’s strange megaphone could be felt in his chest. How the user himself didn’t manage to get knocked back at all is either a testament to his technique or to the technology. Either way, it’s impressive to watch Lúcio stand tall while everyone in front falls like cherry blossoms.

Neither of them look back, entrusting the battle to the other three.

Reaper leads McCree further and further away from the scuffle, flitting past buildings and old fences. The two of them trade occasional shots as though trying to keep up a facsimile of a fight. It’s then Hanzo catches sight of what McCree has in his hand.

Peacekeeper.

He grinds his teeth.

Of all the stupid moves—

If they had been caught at the border with it, they could have been in a different type of trouble. At least then they wouldn’t have had to face Reaper. But now isn’t the time to dwell on the could-have-beens.

The sounds of battle soon limit themselves to the two people in his sights.

“We have to cut them off,” Hanzo grumbles with a wave of his hand.

“Understood.”

To Hanzo’s bewilderment, Reaper tosses his shotguns to the side. Surely he didn’t mean to surrender.

A disgusted noise comes from McCree's throat. “You weren't given those guns to toss 'em around like trash.”

“I don’t take lessons from you,” Reaper sneers. “You don't even know who’s on our payroll.”

It is then that a frighteningly unfamiliar expression of absolute despair and shock passes through McCree’s face. His grip on his gun slackens for just a second. It is enough for Reaper.

“Die.”

“McCree!” Genji throws his shurikens. They strike Reaper’s gun, but the shots are already fired.

McCree barely gets out of the way with a hasty roll, the crunch of his knee audible even if no one can actually hear it, coming off the ground with grit teeth and pained eyes. Hanzo and Genji both rush forth. Genji skids to a stop beside McCree to help him up and Hanzo puts himself in Reaper’s path.

“The fuck are you doing this for?” McCree demands.

Reaper snorts, tone condescending and reminds Hanzo strangely of his own father. In his direct line of sight, he can now experience for himself just how fearsome Reaper is. They haven’t exchanged blows yet, but his senses tell him that Reaper is not to be underestimated.

“Brat. Always thinking you deserve an explanation.”

“You owe us.”

“You’re the one who owes me.”

“McCree. What does he mean by that?” Genji asks, urgent, shaking McCree. “What is your connection with Reaper?”

McCree does not answer, rudely shaking Genji off, eyes trained on Reaper. Even with the mask on, it is clear that he was amused by this exchange. He takes a few staggering steps forward past Hanzo, throwing out an arm to push him back.

“Both of you stay outta this. He’s mine—”

But Hanzo grabs a fistful of his shirt and yanks him back, not caring whether he fell or stood. "No, he's not."

The brothers exchange a look—not that Hanzo could see Genji’s eyes, but he could feel it—and they nod, an unspoken plan conveyed between them: knock out McCree, distract Reaper, get back to the others as soon as possible.

Hanzo leaps forward while Genji leaps back.

McCree’s squawk of indignance is enough to let Hanzo know Genji was able to catch him by surprise. Hanzo has to trust that Genji is able to handle him.

Reaper, on the other hand, is less surprised, side stepping Hanzo’s lunge just enough to tease as to what could have been a solid strike. And side-stepping the next one. And the next, and the next.

With every combination of Hanzo’s punches and kicks dodged with relative ease, confirming Hanzo’s fear: Reaper is more experienced than the rumors gave him credit for. By no means is Hanzo bad at hand-to-hand combat, no, he was much better at it than long-distance combat.

But that Reaper is able to anticipate every hit, every kick is unnerving. Like he’s seen his technique before. Like he knows. Staring into the expressionless, bone-white mask, he swears Reaper is smiling.

Maybe it’s the cheeky way he deflects his attacks as though they are nothing to him or the way that he doesn’t retaliate. Each hit that fails to connect intensifies a fire inside him.

Elation floods his chest when his fist connects with Reaper’s solar plexus. His glee is fleeting. The solid muscle he hit suddenly disappears as though it no longer existed, disintegrating beneath the cloth and armor.

“What sorcer—”

Reaper slams his own fist into Hanzo’s gut, cutting off his words. Hanzo retches, vision going white and green and some colors in between. It knocks him onto his back. He struggles to breathe even as his body automatically forces him to cushion the fall and get up.

He never gets the chance to catch his breath with Reaper slamming another fist where the first landed despite Hanzo’s attempt to instinctively block it. This time, it brings Hanzo to his knees.

“Shame. Thought you’d be better than your brother,” Reaper drawls above him.

The mere mention of Genji forces him to muster all his focus to look at Reaper’s face.

“What, what do you know about my brother?” he wheezes.

Reaper looks down at him with smug silence for a moment, enough for it to get under Hanzo’s burning skin. “More than you know. I even know about your clan.”

“What.”

“We’ve offered them business before. Your father never took.” The revelation is unexpected, but not surprising. “And we’re willing to offer our help to you, too.”

Hanzo scowls. “There is nothing Talon can offer me.”

“Is that what you think?” Reaper laughs. The sound skitters up his skin, gooseflesh rising. “Talon can help restore what you’ve lost. Overwatch has nothing.”

Hanzo is then reminded of the sacrifices people have made to bring Overwatch back. People like Tracer who could have just lived her life and move past the tragedy that befell her. Retired people like Reinhardt who is forcing himself past his limits. Non-combatants like Miss Mei taking a role on the battlefield, saying she hopes to be useful in that capacity. Ordinary people like you who have given up a whole life just to cater to two dozen people.

And Genji who had recruited him, sought him out for reconciliation, in spite of what happened. In spite of knowing it wouldn’t be simple or that Hanzo would not accept it. Ten years of pain cannot be wiped away so easily, but even so, Genji was willing to try.

That isn’t nothing.

“And you expected me to join hands with you?” Hanzo looks Reaper up and down, slow and skeptical. Apparently Reaper is not one to be intimidated by such tactics, not that Hanzo expected him to be. He laughs instead.

“I expected you would pick the winning side, not sentiment.”

—”The world is changing once again, Hanzo, and it's time to pick a side.”—

“Hanzo, grenade!”

The warning moves Hanzo before he’s conscious of it. Hanzo barely managed to cover his ears and turn away, fighting against instinct to keep his mouth open. Not even a split second later, an explosion rocks the ground and rips through the air. Everything in Hanzo’s body rings and shakes as though they, too, wanted to explode.

He tentatively opens an eye and sees Reaper a distance away, struggling to get up, and a very familiar figure coming closer.

The explosion must have been a courtesy of one of McCree’s flashbangs. If they all make it out of this in one piece, Hanzo swears to see to it that McCree will not return in such a state.

“Don’t you go forgettin’ about me,” Hanzo hears McCree say once the ringing subsides to a moderate volume.

Reaper growls. “Don’t worry. I didn’t.”

He disappears into a cloud of smoke just as Genji plunges in with his sword from above.

The surprising trick—it had to have been a trick—made Hanzo stop in his tracks. He watches, speechless, as the black mass reforms into a person just a short distance away.

What the hell was that?

But more importantly—

“Why are you both here?” Hanzo demands once he catches his voice. “This isn’t a part of the plan.”

Genji and McCree should have both gotten back to Ana and the rest by now.

“New priorities, brother.”

The word ‘brother’ still digs uncomfortably into his skin, but he has no will to correct him. Not when Reaper takes out a new set of guns and has them aimed right at the three of them. Every bit of muscle shakes, the blast having done a number on him, but Hanzo pushes past all that. This is a matter of life and death, his minor pains and questions be damned.

“I take the back, you two take ‘im from the front,” McCree mutters.

“Three of you at once?” Reaper’s voice sounds more gravelly than before, a strange wheezing echo lining the edges of his voice. “How cute.”

A plume of darkness dives at them. Reaper’s face is upon them in an instant.

All three of them jump back. Bullets fire from McCree’s gun, piercing holes into the mist that becomes man. The moment he solidifies, Hanzo comes from below to take out his legs. Reaper jumps up to avoid it. In a momentary aerial fight, Genji throws a kick at Reaper’s head. It’s blocked by an arm that wraps around Genji’s legs, throwing him back onto the ground. But Genji throws a set of shurikens, two out of three slicing the edge of the hood where Reaper’s neck was. The last one flies back and Hanzo snatches it from the air, throwing it at Reaper just when his feet touch the ground.

This time, the shuriken lodges itself into one of Reaper’s gauntlets.

By the time Hanzo lands again, Genji is already stepping into Reaper’s space, forcing him back. Reaper firing shots in between either as a distraction or as a warning. Disarming him would be ideal.

Hanzo ducks in. Where Genji is not, Hanzo fills in that void with strikes of his own.

The same song and dance of their past, except now more individually refined—like the perfect ratio of milk to coffee. The comparison shocks him, to say the least.

Where he ducks, Genji is there with a leg sweeping over his head, kicking away one of the shotguns, but it still remains in Reaper’s hands. When he strikes, Genji ensures Reaper cannot retaliate.

Every other strike is connecting. With so many people to pay attention to, Reaper can’t look down on him anymore. The thought sends a vicious thrill through him.

Where there is a gap in their moves, a bullet squeezes its way in. Reaper takes those chances to dissolve himself, but even that is coming in longer stretches.

Yes. Reaper must be getting tired by now. No matter how inhuman he seems, he still has to rest. With the three of them, they can win.

“Enough of this.”

Like a drop of water in a pond, Reaper drops into a pool of mist and reemerges between all of them, and with his arms and guns out, begins to spin.

“Take cover!”

“Hanzo!” Genji leaps in front of him, wakizashi out.

“Die—”

There is no sound, only the air vibrating from the rapidfire that made his eardrums and the air on his skin shudder.

Powerful spinning lunges that sprayed the entire field in sparks. Genji deflects as many as he can.

That Genji would think of putting himself in danger for his killer’s sake paralyzes Hanzo. As though seeing everything through the lens of someone else, he doesn’t move.

“Die—”

The scene—the carnage—is surreal.

Indiscriminate. Powerful.

The sound of metal on metal pounds Hanzo's ears. Flashes of heat across his skin where bullets fly by. The change in air pressure after each shot echoes in his bones, down into his soul, shaking up the very foundations of his being.

It is death.

“Die.”

It is an order.

When rubble and dust settles, through the blinding pain in his thigh, shoulder, and somewhere in his midsection, Hanzo sees everyone else has fallen. Only he remains standing, and even then, just barely.

McCree is nowhere in sight, though his hat lays on the ground as though it were a memory of the fallen. Genji is crumpled at his feet, sparking in places a human shouldn’t, and more cracks in his armor that reveal scars that Hanzo could almost recall the origin of.

"Brother. Get out of h-hher—"

Reaper materializes between them, delivering a

“Genji—!”

“I’ll ask you one more time, Shimada.” He takes a step toward Hanzo. “Overwatch can’t give you what you want. We can. And we’d hate to see someone with so much talent waste away in Overwatch especially for a reason you don’t believe in.”

He resists the urge to glance back at Genji, knowing that any moment he takes his eyes off Reaper will be his last.

“Consider it. Your empire could be great. You can have everything you want. Respect. Power.”

The sultry promises of the empire he’s dreamed of since childhood wafts through him. It is tantalizing.

But even if they did restore it, it would besmirch his family’s name. The clan had never accepted the help of outsiders, never tied their fate to people who were not loyal to their clan or to their blood. Who was to say that he would truly be in control at the end of the day?

He’ll again be known as incapable. If the clan continues with Talon ever lurking in its shadows, he cannot have peace of mind.

If he were to join Talon, then what would have been the point of him coming to Overwatch? What would have been the point of putting himself in their service?

More fundamentally, he now has to ask himself why did he even come to Overwatch in the first place? Was it because he wanted to confirm Genji’s identity? Or because he wanted to make up for what he did by aligning himself with his brother’s cause?

Why did he want to make up for what he did to Genji? To rid himself of guilt? Or was it because he still believed he could reform Genji and bring him back to the clan and reclaim his birthright?

In which case, why did he need Genji? Why couldn’t he do it on his own? Because their father told them they had to expand together? Or because somewhere deep inside, Hanzo knew he couldn’t do this without his brother?

Questions he didn’t dare ask himself rush to the surface, clamoring his attention and his answers. Fitting that it is only now—in the face of literal death—that he is genuinely introspective and finally seeing things from a different perspective. He can only be disappointed it took him so long. The answers will have to come later. Come hell or high water, he needs to give Reaper a proper response.

“So. Your answer?”

He meets Reaper’s piercing red eyes.

“No.”

He lunges with a yell, and Reaper steps to the side. In a disgraceful heap, every wound in his body aches and burns. But so close to Genji, he can see the rise and fall of his chest. Genji still lives. That is enough.

“Pity.”

Reaper dives in in a dart of mist.

Hanzo grabs Genji’s fallen short sword. The sickeningly familiar weight of a sword in his hands pulls at his entire being. The air around him crackles as he resolves himself.

He slashes at Reaper who knocks into the blade with his gun. Hanzo’s hand burns, but he refuses to let go. Reaper’s other gun comes up and fires. Hanzo turns, feeling the heat of a near miss against the plane of his stomach.

Hanzo throws strike after strike, chaining combinations of sword, arm, elbow, shoulder, legs, and more. Strike after strike is blocked or parried. Somehow, Reaper pistol whips him with the back of his gun while Hanzo is mid-air. He falls, face swelling rapidly and mouth full of blistering heat and blood. But he is up again before his vision is able to register Reaper as one and not two.

REaper doesn't miss a chance, and the searing pain of three new bullet wounds remind him he cannot either. He forces himself to move, to raise his sword, to fight. Every blow is heavy and makes his wrists ring. His vision swims and he's taking more hits than delivering them. Amidst the suffocating pain and mental demands of the fight, a single piece of light: he has made his choice. He has no plans on losing here. Rather than jumping knowingly into a lion’s mouth, Hanzo would have better chances in the abyss where Overwatch lay. At least there is a chance of survival with them. With Genji who willingly jumped in front of his own would-be murderer to protect him. With you. He has no answers for why he is here outside of pretty words and insincere gestures, but he for certain does not want to be with Talon.

Hanzo sucks in a deep breath. Focus. Ozone crackles in the back of his teeth, flooding his mouth with the numbing taste of lightning and vibrations of thunder. Blue light spills out from his arm.

Shimada Hanzo will not go down like this.

No.

Hanzo Shimada will not go down like this.

He takes one last glance at Genji, still fallen and immobile, and makes up his mind. He raises Genji’s sword, channeling the power that swells inside him. This is his answer. This is the side he chooses.

“Ryuu ga”—he raises the sword—“waga teki wo kurau!”

He thrusts forward, releasing his attack toward Reaper.

And when he says ‘waga teki’—our enemies—he can truly mean ‘ours’. Not the enemy of the Shimada clan, not the enemy of himself and his dragons, but the enemy of himself and his brother.

From the blade, the two blue dragons haloed by green pounce forth and rip through Reaper, not even giving him a chance to escape. In an instant, the pale face of death is vaporized; black disappears in the rushing sea of blue and green. As though he were never there, the dragons continue their rampage through the little town and up toward the sky. The afternoon sky turns into night. Their roars, easily mistaken for thunder, shakes the earth and heavens.

Hanzo stares, slack-jawed. They’re dancing among the clouds. Somewhere in there, he spies a serpent in green among them. As though to mock his vision, the dragons all disappear with a joyous cry, allowing color to return as though it was never disturbed at all.

An unsettling silence is cemented in the air. There is only the sound of his own labored breathing and the dull roaring of blood rushing through his veins. Haltingly, he looks at where Reaper stood, finding nothing.

Reaper couldn’t have survived this.

Energy sucked out of him, Hanzo drops the short sword, hands shaking. It has been too long since he last held one, but his body did not forget. His dragons did not forget. They reveled and flaunted the power granted to them by their vessel.

Cold and weariness blankets the quiet that has settled in his mind. He stares out listlessly across the town where quiet reigns.

They won.

Overwatch won.

Hanzo closes his eyes for a moment, a deep breath escaping through his teeth.

They can all go home.

No sooner did he think that, black mist comes together as though attracted by some magnetic force. In horror, Hanzo watches as it takes the blurry shape of a man. The white mask floats in the void where Reaper’s head should be, stark and sharp in appearance compared to the rest of him.

“Not bad,” Reaper says, voice echoing sinisterly all around him. “But not good enough yet.”

Yet.

Something about that word raises alarms in his mind. He didn't have time to think about it. He had to do something. Every one of his limbs feels numb and heavy.

His reappearance cements a deep-seated fear. Reaper had been toying with them. Is he immortal? Is he incapable of dying?

No, that can’t be. Anything that lives must be able to die.

Hanzo sets his jaw. He just has to keep killing him. As many times as it takes.

With aching fingers and trembling hand, he picks the sword back up. He can scarcely make a fist around it.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Reaper tsks. Time slows as Reaper produces another gun from the depths of his tattered coat. It slows even more when the gun gradually becomes aligned with the trajectory to Genji’s head.

A hot snap and he yells, rushing forth.

“No!”

But something falls out of his pocket in his desperate run.

It’s a moment’s misstep. He twists to avoid stepping on it. He slips, falls. Landing face first into the ground where the pain shooting through his body and a shotgun barrel to his forehead keeps him down.

Face pressed into the dirt, he can now see what he tried to avoid.

The tamale.

Against all reason and all of his training and all the nerves in his body that scream at him to move, he simply does not. Instead, he watches a frozen Reaper with morbid curiosity. The shadows surrounding him flicker like a cat flicks its tail; inquisitive and unsure.

With the shotgun still pointed to Hanzo’s temple, Reaper leans down, now much more interested in the little husk package than the fight.

“What do we have here?” he drawls, gingerly picking the tamale up with lazy, dramatic flair.

The tamale is encaged in those obnoxious claws of his, and he takes a long, long look, inspecting it like it was a novelty deserving of dedicated scrutiny. The corn husk has been dyed red with the sauce inside, squished to the point of almost exploding.

It might have just been Hanzo’s imagination, but everything about Reaper now exudes the image of a man in memory, of someone—not a monster—that tugs at the faint whispers of a memory, of someone he thinks he might have seen before. In a movie? In a picture?

To Hanzo’s surprise, Reaper starts to laugh. Not one of his wild, unhinged laughs. It’s one of fond amusement, quiet and private like it is not meant for anyone else except himself.

“Is this your offer?”

Confused, Hanzo has no answer. What offer?

Without waiting for Hanzo to answer—Reaper announces with strangely cheerful finality, “Trade accepted.”

What.

Hanzo barely hears Reaper’s barking order for Talon to retreat. Around him, various agents are up and about, dragging their own back onto their vehicles in a flurry of activity that leaves Overwatch untouched.

Above him, he swears he hears Repair mutter, "Not yet."

It’s over too quickly.

With Reaper’s disappearance, the blissfully battlefield is silent, the evaporation of all adrenaline leaves his bones shaking and dry.

He’s alive.

Behind him, there is a wheeze.

The spell breaks.

Genji.

He scrambles on his hands and knees to turn around.

Blood gushes through his veins and out of his wounds, hot and demanding. Colors crowd the edge of his vision as the adrenaline and shock dissipates, no longer able to hold them at bay. He falls to the ground, muscles aching and barely able to lift his own head. Still, he pulls himself across the dirt just to get a little closer and make sure Genji is still alive.

That he would be spared instead of dying a noble death burns him hotter than anything he's ever felt. All strength bleeds out of him, and he’s reduced to digging his forehead into the ground, mouth full of dust and defeat.

As he lay there, struggling to draw his next breath and vision growing dim with Genji in his sights, everything in his mind seems clearer.

Feeling alive has never felt so heavy. Ten years of living in a fog from one day to the next with razor edge clarity only on the anniversary of Genji's death and the moment he fires his arrow on his targets. Thirty-eight years of reality has never been so solid and sharp, weighing him down with their stone cut clarity, digging into him and demanding his attention, slicing through the barriers he had unconsciously erected around his past.

He wanted his empire.

He wanted power and the unshakable respect that came with it.

It is something that was promised to him and that he had worked his whole life for, and it’s something he’ll probably never let go of for as long as he lives—however long that may be.

But he wanted that with his brother. Partially out of ego and partially because he wanted Genji to see just what they could accomplish together, that Genji didn’t have to act out or be such a brat to shake off the stigma of being their father’s son, that Genji could actually do whatever he set his mind to instead of letting everyone call him a failure. He wanted so much from his family that he never got and will never get.

Burning pressure wells up in his face, but his lips feel cold and numb, robbing him of words. He screws his eyes shut.

He never knew anything at all. Until the very end, he was conceited, tantalized by the promise of returning to a childhood dream. It may be his just deserts.

He makes one final attempt to reach out to Genji, but his body refuses to cooperate, leaving mere inches between himself and his brother’s fallen body. Seeing his shoulders rise and fall though is the only indication that he is alive. And that is enough. Genji is alive.

As his vision goes dark and breath grows shallow with the cold chill of certain death creeping into his bones, his father’s voice speaks to him from the depths of his mind: "With every death comes honor. With honor, redemption."

Will his death now be worth enough to redeem him from a lifetime of compounding sins?

Chapter 20>>

#my writing #the way to a heart #hanzo x reader

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