#[ jesse all of the above mccree ]

[sunflowerrosewood]

Shooting For Your Old Heart ~ Soldier 76

Author's Note: Since my other account @cheekyredwillow got deleted. I am adding some of my favorite fanfictions to this account and revamping this one with new ones. I hope to make an actual list of fandoms I am still a fan of! NO requests for the time being.

On to the one shot!

You were a brand new gunner for Overwatch. You were recruited by McCree just outside of El Dorado when you came into the battle against Talon and took down Sombra. Jesse asked you to come back and meet the rest of the team.

Since joining Overwatch, you were close with Jesse and Mercy. Mercy always seemed to be asking about your lock on bullets and how they would explode on contact. Junkrat over time wanted to also learn. The rest of the team liked you except for Solider 76 otherwise known as Jack. 

Jack always had something bad to say about your gun or stance. He is the oldest but does he have to be so nit picky? And over time, you began to fall for his assertive nature. You liked that he always seemed to be near you and always protects. You enjoyed his company when he wasn't complaining about you. 

A mission came up in Busan where Talon operatives were trying to steal artifacts. You, Jack, Mercy, Junkrat, Jesse, and Reinhardt were sent on the mission. 

"Y/n? Pack extra bullets for me?" Jamison asked as you laughed. 

"Will do!" You said as you heard someone clear their throat. "Yes Jack?"

"Commander during this L/n and quit acting like this is easy." Jack snapped as you rolled your eyes. 

"I know it wont be but why can't I have a positive attitude, grumpy?" You said as you heard Jesse calling your name. "If you'll excuse me." 

Jack always had this issue with you. This gorgeous woman should not be a gunner whose bullets explode on contact. She's almost as deadly as Widowmaker. But the bigger issue someone like you needs to be safe. 

Jack felt like you kept trying to be in trouble. He hated to see you go on missions without him but you always came back unharmed. Jack had this overwhelming urge to protect you, hold you, kiss you. It was scary to him. Someone his age dating someone young. You were more close to Jesse's age than his. 

Speaking of Jesse, you always seemed to talk to him. Jack knows that Jesse was the first person you became close but the touches on your shoulders or hands is making him jealous. Why is Jesse touching you so much? What if Jack was nicer to you and could do the same? What if he could hold your hand during the plane ride to each mission? The closest thing to a touch he gets from you is a shoulder bump when you want to get away. The reason Jack is so rough with you is he does not want to see you hurt over a minor mistake. He couldn’t bear to see that. 

The plane arrived at Busan and the team began to run off. You went above with Jesse and Jack while Junkrat, Reinhardt, and Mercy stayed below. You could see the Talon operatives loading their weapons from afar. 

“Stay back for now.” Jack commanded as you and Jesse bent down to load your weapons. The rest of the team waited as Reinhardt put up a shield to run in. 

As soon as Reinhardt began to run in, the rest of you began. You saw a Talon operative getting ready to shoot Junkrat so you shot him from above. 

“Thanks Lass!” Junkrat yelled as you saluted and took off to another area. 

Jack and Jesse were across from where you were shooting and you saw a gunner getting up to shoot at Jack. You quickly loaded and shot your bullet causing the Talon operative to blow up.

“You could have warned us L/n.” Jack growled through the comms.

“Figured you didn’t want to die today.” You said as Mercy came up to heal Jack and Jesse. 

While you were helping with the rest of the team, Jesse questioned Jack about you. When Jack acted like you were just a teammate, Jesse laughed at him. Jack glared at Jesse behind the glasses as he heard a yelp. While the two of them were bickering, you were shot in your side. All Jack saw in slow motion was the bullet hitting you and like yours, exploding. The base went out from under you and your limp body fell down a few feet. It was the first time in a while that Jack screamed. 

“MERCY GO CHECK ON HER!” Jack yelled through the comms as Mercy was already flying over. 

You felt dizzy and nauseous but you could tell Mercy was coming over. You also saw white shaggy hair and could make it out as Jack screaming. As the battle went on, Mercy immediately took you back to the plane to begin work in the small med bay on the plane. Meanwhile, Jack’s anger got the best of him and he began shooting like crazy until the operatives fell.

“Are you sure she’s not just a teammate?” Jesse said as Jack fell to his knees.

“If we weren’t arguing about her, I could have saved her.” Jack snapped as Jesse sighed loudly.

“But you heard her. She is dizzy but Mercy believes she’ll recover.” Jesse tried to explain. 

“She should not have gotten hurt.” Jack growled as his fists tightened.

“I know you are angry with yourself. But we need to get back to the plane so we can get home. Y/n cannot stop herself from getting hurt all the time.” Jesse tried to explain before walking back to the plane. 

Jack walked back to the plane still sulking. He could hear the others talking but he had to visit the mini med bay. He saw your pale body laying on the bed. Mercy had to take your shirt off to get to the wound so Jack was also trying to not stare for too long. But his heart clenched hard looking at you.

“She’ll be out for a while. I’m going to try and fix the wound before we get back.” Mercy said as she touched Jack’s shoulder. “She will be fine.”

“It was my fault Mercy. She could have died because I was too transfixed on her saving me.” Jack said as he sighed.

“Do you want to stay here while I fix her wound?” Mercy asked as she saw the slightest nod from Jack. 

As Mercy continued to fix your wound, Jack was still fretting over you. He just wants you to be better so he can actually tell you how he feels before it is too late for either of you. The plane landed back at HQ and Mercy immediately brought you to her hospital. She put IVs in you, gave some medicine for strength, and would check the stitches. Jack stayed by your bed the entire time even when Mercy tried to force him to shower, shave, and check his wounds. 

For about three days, you were out of it. No response but at least the color was coming back to your skin. Jack fell asleep by your bedside multiple times. By the fourth day, your eyes began to open slowly. The hospital lights were blinding but as you turned your head slightly, you could see Jack. His hair was shaggy and all over the place, a five o’clock shadow was showing, and you could see he hadn’t changed since the mission. 

“Jack?” You croaked out as Jack immediately shot up. His eyes were frantic as he saw your soft e/c eyes looking at him. 

“Y/n! You’re awake. Let me go get Mercy.” Jack said as he walked out of the room. You sighed and waited for her to come in. 

She began to check your vitals and ordered some food and water for later. You would have to stay in the bed for a while longer before you go on desk duty. No missions for a couple of weeks. Jack stayed by the door as Mercy checked your vitals and your eyes had not left his. Why did he stay by your side for so long?

“All done. I’ll come back in a few hours and replace the bandage but soon I’ll be able to remove the stitches.” Mercy said as you nodded your head. You watched as she left the room and Jack wasn’t where you last saw him.

After an hour had passed and you ate, Jack came back in some sweatpants and a t- shirt. He did not have his glasses on so you could see his lack of sleep in his eyes. You could see he had shaved and brought a bouquet of daffodils. 

“Do you mind if I come in?” He asked as you patted the seat across from you. He walked in and set the flowers in the vase. 

“I see you showered.” You said softly.

“I figured if we were going to talk that you would prefer me to be cleaned.” Jack said as you chuckled. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore but not too bad. You looked like you had been hit by a truck.” You said as Jack scratched his neck.

“How am I not supposed to? You were blown up and I couldn’t save you.” Jack sighed as you took his hand in yours.

“I’m fine Jack. I survived.” You said as he looked at you and you noticed his dark sleepy eyes. “You haven’t slept much have you?”

“I couldn’t. I just wanted you safe.” Jack said as you began to rub his hand.

“Why is that? Is it because I made a mistake?” You said as Jack shook his head.

“I made the mistake. I did not protect the one I love.” Jack said as he realized what he said. “I apologize Y/n.” 

“Do you mean that Jack?” You said softly.

“Always. I know I am a lot older than you and you probably don’t want to date an old guy but I’d love to go out with you.” Jack said softly as he took his other hand to touch your cheek.

“I would l-love to go o-out with you as well.” You stuttered as Jack leaned forward and kissed the corner of your lips. Your face flushed with heat as he backed up. You wiggled away and patted the space you made. “Lay down with me.”

“Are you sure Y/n?” Jack said as you pulled on the hand you were still holding.

“Come on. You need sleep.” You said as Jack climbed into the bed. 

As Jack curled around your body, you caught a whiff of his shampoo and body wash. It was similar to a woody scent mixed with a campfire or gunpowder. You had to lay towards him thanks to the wound but Jack did not mind. He fell asleep rather quickly as soon as your head hit his chest. 

Mercy came in later to check on you and noticed the two of you sleeping. While she would have said something, she knew Jack had not slept since you had been out so she’d rather he get some sleep with you then worry about another person being in a patient’s bed. She smirked to herself and walked away without saying a word.

[yeehanfrf]

Week 14 Recs: Mermaid for Each Other

For Week 14, we celebrated MerMay with the theme "Mermaid for Each Other." Here are mermaid and other sea creature fics from the Yeehan community!

Behind the cut, you'll find them organized by rating and then alphabetically by title.

Teen and Up

Heart of the Sea by Odds_Evens [8,824 words]

After a rouge fire throws Jesse McCree overboard he finds himself stranded on an island with only a shy mer for company.

Mature

Match Made Under the Sea by Mish_chan [3,469 words] Note: "The one above is the specifically YeeHan one of the series. Here's the main series: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2915367."

Hanzo has felt like he has never really fit in, with his bright orange/red and white coloration and being one of the only or very few hermaphrodites in his pod. That is, until he sees a rancher/escort mer...who has the same coloration as he does, and calls another hermaphrodite mer his father.

The Monster in the Lake by ieatgrassalot [6,855 words]

Cole, now retired, find his solitary new lifestyle a bit lonely. A few broken nets later, he finds himself getting to the bottom of this mystery and somehow solving the loneliness problem all at once.

Explicit

Away by Vimeddiee [29,154 words] Reccer comment: "This is about a selkie, not a mermaid, but the vibes are correct."

Hanzo awakens to the feel of grit in his eyes and the crunch of sand between his teeth. This in itself doesn’t rudely force him into consciousness, but the insistent flicking against his nose that he groggily attempts to bat away, does.

“High tide’s coming, you better nap someplace else.”

Drink Sweet Salt by Kalikuks [WIP; 57,245 words] Reccer comment: "It’s not been updated in a while, but what is there is still very enjoyable. It’s a mixed bag of angst, cuteness, oddity and hilarity."

Hanzo watches the lightning dance across the clouds and tries to summon his dragon spirits, met with not even the sight of them cresting from his tattoo but the underlying feeling of weak static crawling beneath his skin.

With his last deep breath before the tide rises fully over him, he curses at the sky.

In Your Embrace by Dracoduceus [4,335 words]

Jesse is fully expecting to have to fight and bribe his way back into Hanzo's good graces. After a long swim to bring back the fish that his adopted human fathers intend to raise and study, he goes to search out his pretty mate.

Turns out Hanzo has a much different idea of how McCree should show how sorry he is.

Of Scales, Sand and Sun by Kalikuks [2,767 words]

“Name’s Jesse, darlin’,” the mer, Jesse, replies with every bit of flirtation his lopsided smile lends to, “An’ you?”

“Hanzo,” the naga leans down closer to Jesse, “You can call me Hanzo, dear Jesse.”

Jesse chitters happily, lifts a hand to reach for one of Hanzo’s. The naga gives Jesse his hand, lets the mer show him attention and affection by kissing along his knuckles. Yes, today is looking to be more interesting than Hanzo had thought.

On the Shore by Dracoduceus [9,247 words]

His friends meant well.

That’s what McCree needed to remember.

His friends meant well. ----

McCree didn't have high hopes for the beach vacation that his friends dragged him to.

That all changed when he stumbled upon a private beach...and a very attractive man half-buried in the sand.

Singing Stones by Kalikuks [4,158 words]

“You are mine?” “Yes.” It is barely a whisper, and Seeker nuzzles the hand pressed to his cheek, “I’ve been lookin’ all over for you.” “And here I am,” the other mer purrs.

Sunlit Scales by Interrobang [28,346 words] Reccer comment: "Yaaay it made it and heres my rec Sunlit Scales in which cole is mer and hanzo fisherman. Theres smut but overall very wholesome and cute 😌"

A collection of stories about fisherman Hanzo and merman McCree. Absolutely filthy. (Gets fluffy in later chapters because...eggs. Still occasionally dirty af though.)

Tide by hunahuna_un [3,306 words]

Just two mers, swimming in the deep sea, chasing each other cause they're so gay.

- Just the thought of Hanzo doing the dance of the sirens made him groan, let alone seeing it, this close. Finally.

Never had Jesse felt this excited about the dance of their kind - enticing him, just so. Hanzo had captured him completely, lured him in from the first flick of his tail, the first gleam of interest flashed from his eyes. He tried to reach out to touch, but Hanzo swam just out of reach again, pulling an impatient growl out of Jesse.

---

We've reached the end of the MerMay recs! Thank you to everyone who submitted a recommendation, and to spinefrepple for suggesting the theme!

If you find a fic you love using this rec list, be sure to leave the author kudos and a comment! Even "I found this fic because someone recced it" is a lovely thing to say.

Come back next time for Week 15: "Loud and Proud," celebrating the start of Pride month with fics about LGBTQIA+ identities and/or Pride events.

In the meantime, you can also check out the Week 13 recs here, or check the full list of past and future themes here.

---

Curious about the icon and some of the fic titles? This rec blog supports #EndOTWRacism, a fan campaign asking the AO3 to make good on its 2020 promises to address racist harassment on the site. Fans of color deserve to feel safe and welcome in fan spaces. To learn more, please visit @end-otw-racism and read their Call to Action.

[beckyh2112]

AO3 First Lines

Tagged by @ragedaisy.

rules: post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to ao3. if you have fewer than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

Cody put in the passcode to his quarters, mind chasing itself in circles.

From you hold me up (till like a leaf we fall), my Foxatine mpreg. It opens with Cody receiving a KIA notice for Fox. Title is courtesy of Pux, and is at least 50% "I don't want to just call it 'the Foxatine mpreg' forever."

2. Wolffe woke in darkness.

From only the devil gets to dream, a followup to one_real_imonkey's Going Under, which is itself an AU of their Just keep your head above the rising tide, the sea will go out again. Delicious Coruscant Guard angst with the Wolfpack to the rescue.

Going Under is a bad end AU focused on Plo Koon, and only the devil gets to dream follows up with what happens to Wolffe.

3. Sidious hadn't expected to need to brace himself.

From there's teeth everywhere on you. Sidious point-of-view on a Fauxatine relationship. Also a chance for me to try out doing his pov and having him refer solely to himself as Sidious. I do think that's the most accurate way he thinks of himself, but it also leads to "Sidious's", which just doesn't sound good.

4. Street lamps were few and far between in this part of the Middle Ring, and Long Feng refused to draw attention to himself by carrying a light.

From One's For Sorrow, which is a repost of one of my AtLA fics from 2011. One of my favorite pieces from that era, tbh.

5. Thire isn't thinking when he goes in for a kiss on Fox's cheek after their morning meeting.

From Bug Report, a fic inspired by Bluestreak945's Beta Testing series, which is some of my favorite rape/non-con Foxatine smut. Heed the warnings; don't read if it's not your cuppa.

My fic isn't smut, and it doesn't even really mention anything from the series explicitly. Mostly it's me messing with the mind control aspect. It does contain clonecest, though, so again, don't read if it's not your cuppa.

6. "Thanks, Tango!" Sapnap yelled back over his shoulder as he threw himself out the door of the older fire demon's home, tail waving behind him.

From Error 404, my Dream SMP Big Bang fic. I like the fic, and I love the worldbuilding. But it is kinda mostly worldbuilding and focuses on Sapnap and Georgenotfound, so it didn't get much of a response.

7. Gabriel Reyes, crown prince of Argia, waited for the barbarians to arrive in the outer courtyard of Alcázar de Zaindari.

The Lion's Crown and the Crown of Suns! My one Overwatch fic, very much unfinished, completely AU. I love the world, kinda wish I still had the drive to get farther with it. Just completely lost steam on it, and I no longer have much of an interest in Overwatch.

Also, I do not want to sort out Jesse McCree vs. Cole Cassidy.

8. In the Shadow Isles, there was no square inch of land that didn't hold someone's remains.

From All's Hell That Ends Well, a League of Legends fic based on Twisted Fate's Underworld skin.

Posted in 2015; there is a massive gap in my fic-writing if you pay attention to posting dates. This, the two crowns in 2017, then the DSMP Big Bang in 2021.

9. The ground rumbled.

From There's Now War in Ba Sing Se. I don't remember if this is a repost, or if I wrote it and posted it to both FF.Net and AO3. Either way, AtLA OC fic with mine and Pux's characters.

10. Bucky and Steve used to joke over his words. "She's a moll who likes HG Wells."

From Hey There, Heartbreaker, which was inspired by @suzukiblu's we are not history yet; we are happening now. Darcy/Bucky soulmate AU. I like her fic much better than mine, but I don't think mine is bad per se. It's just. There.

Tagging @one-real-imonkey, @darkpuck, @suzukiblu, @slackeremeritus, @weirdlet, and anyone else who feels like doing it.

[vastiitas]

Laws

21+ years old, please. by interacting with me on this blog, you are telling me that you are a legal adult and therefore i will be treating you as such.

My RP Prompts/Memes are always open! and I have a wishlist here!

i will write with duplicates, ocs, and x-overs! i treat every plot and muse as their own separate verses, unless discussed otherwise (that is to say, i do not have over-arching plot/narrative on this blog and i do not practice mains and affiliations). because of this, i would very much prefer plotting over memes, though I will send memes to you if that is listed as a preference and to help feel out dynamic ideas. come to me info-dumping me about your character and i will try and find a way where i can fit :p If I have followed your blog and have not yet reached out to plot, i either immensely enjoy your writing or i have yet to formulate a proper way to reach out; the latter of which can take a bit of time, so i will appreciate any and all patience :pray:

if there is no accessible biography on your blog in regards to your muse, i may not follow back.

While I am duplicate friendly, I would politely request that if you ship your muse with a duplicate cowboy that we do some plotting before hand. My personal joy is finding threads/directions that have not yet been taken and exploring them to diversify the experience, which includes exploring other verses if need be.

this blog will contain graphic depictions of violence, drinking, and smoking – due to my realizing it too late, there are threads and images that are not tagged for blood. if these are things that discomfort you, i would highly recommend not following this blog :(

While I am fine with dark themed writing, my hard boundary is at actively writing threads with no/n-con, in/cest, and relations w mi/nors + grooming/predatory se/xual practices w mi/nors (as opposed to, say, these elements being part of your muse's history and being referenced.) This will be a hardblock without any discussion. I am not interested in debating the "flexibility" of the "canon," or that muse =/= mun if I see no indication of acknowledgment from either you or your writing partner that the topic you're exploring is taboo. You go your way, I will go mine.

you can call me tek, i am 25+, i am here to be a complete and utter clown. i’m sorely lacking in graphics and icons but please do not let this stop you if this is something you utilize!  i also use the beta editor.

I Do Not Intend On Writing Smut. please respect this, thank you! I enjoy writing sexually charged scenes, but Things will need to fade to black. If this is not your jam, I might not be the blog for you.

I enjoy a many array of dynamics - my tastes tend to lean towards aroace fiction and emphasizing platonic connections that have Depth. i find it incredibly difficult to insta-ship and trying to develop dynamics that are based off of flirting alone. Exceptions are made by chemistry and plotting ofc, and when I feel greatly comfortable with you as a friend/writing partner. If I feel that you are seeking this underhandedly, I will break mutuals.

in addendum to the above, i myself am demi. please have considerations of this when interacting with me and my inability to instaship. i emphasize to you: physical attraction alone means nothing to me. the closest thing to sheer eros ur gonna get from me is through fights to the near death between the muses (im not being hyperbolic either)

That said, I write with a lot of Lesbian characters. If your character is not sexually attracted to him and if i do write a flirtatious line towards your muse in this nature, please do not feel as if i am forcing a ship on you; i am very content and happy with my platonic relationships! I am not here to disrespect your character's sexuality. (In addition, if ur character is dangerous, I don't mean to belittle your character – Cole's response to danger is dopamine 😔.)

depending on the timeline, my writing will address cole as jesse mccree or cole cassidy following the name that he was using at the time. for simplicity’s sake, he will simply go as cole cassidy for any interactions outside of overwatch. because of the sensitivity of this topic, i will generally not follow overwatch blogs first. i’m adaptable upon request otherwise. if you have explicitly stated that you do not want to follow or write with blogs using that name (and all the power to you, there is no bad blood), i will hardblock in order to avoid future confusion and stepping any toes.

I am stepping away from the OVW fandom in general, with few select exceptions. As extreme as this sounds, I will be preemptively hardblocking new OVW blogs as I come along them.

I do not write fanon Cassidys in mind; Please do not bring him into my household. If I feel that there is a misrepresentation, I am pretty direct in correcting it; but if this is a trend that continues, I will break mutuals.

I would like to communicate that there is a certain dynamic I would like to avoid and it is when cole is reduced to an NPC to a muse's whump without there being a proper development that extends beyond this. i word this politely, but just know i speak with severity behind this.

i've been a para roleplayer - (with a past avg of ~200 words - key words being past tense lol - i genuinely don’t think i can consistently do 200 these days – it takes me an hour to 2 hours to pump a reply out); i would rather avoid novella, semi-lit, and literate threads as my energy levels are just absolute dog. my lengths can greatly vary to what the thread calls for, and thus i’ll be just as flexible with you. just, y'know, as long as we aren’t sending one-liners to para’s. chat rps + crack are always fun, and i’ll gladly participate! 

i’m slow, i’m so so slow, and i’m sorry - i have 2 jobs :’) my dashboard can also be quite quick at times and i will miss a good number of my mutuals that are located in different time zones and won't see posts until weeks later by chance of them coming up in my for-you.

i want to make a disclaimer that i do block liberally to curate my for-you and it tends not to be personal. I will also clear out my dashboard every now and then with softblocks if there has been a lack of interaction ooc or ic over a span of several months and I can't quite determine your interest level. this, too, is impersonal - you are welcome to refollow if you'd like — ik i personally can take up to several months of radio silence before i can cook a proper selection of plots and approach somebody 😭

[overwatchworks]

Anyone want to discuss Halloween mcgenji prompts? Or just Halloween/autumn mcgenji in general, I need some sweet boys loving one another.

I keep thinking about an AU where Genji and Jesse are retired from Overwatch and live in a cute cabin in the mountains off the grid. They put on a fire every night and Jesse has taken to whittling or knitting in front of it after dinner (keeps his hands busy). Genji does the laundry and always has one of Jesse’s flannels on after putting everything away.

Genji will make hot tea for Jesse when he goes fishing in the morning; it’s still bitingly cold and there’s a fog over the trees obscuring the sunrise by the river. Occassionally Genji joins him and hikes while Jesse fishes (Genji isn’t a big fan of fishing but he’s very happy Jesse likes it so much). Jesse does in fact have a fisher’s hat with all kinds of gaudy luers and hooks jangling from it. Genji wears his cowboy hat when Jesse switches it out for fishing to keep it safe.

They have some livestock and a huge garden that always has something ready to harvest in it. Genji takes good care of it and makes sure it’s clean and the deer and rabbits stay out (which is a huge chore). They have a few cats that mostly live outside or in the small barn and two dogs that all help protect the livestock and join them when they leave the cabin to go on evening walks.

They spend a night carving pumpkins from the garden in October outside next to the firepit with homemade cider that Jesse may or may not have spiced up with a little whiskey. Genji can make complex designs and Jesse forgets he’s supposed to be carving just to watch the cute way Genji’s brow furrows slightly as he concentrates. He looks intense, even if it’s just for pumpkin carving. Asks what Jesse’s laughing at after a few minutes, and gives him a lighthearted nudge with his foot when Jesse tells him it’s a pumpkin not a mission. Then Jesse is staring at his soft smile and the tiny shake of his head, the way his hair falls into his eyes. It’s gotten long, he can pull it back into a small ponytail. Some grey streaking through it, highlighting it prettily. Genji ages just as beautifully. He’s never not been the most gorgeous thing Jesse has ever seen.

It’s quiet and peaceful. Something they deserve after everything they’ve been through.

[crispynuggetbutter]

How is a domestic life with yandere dilf Jesse McCree (from the Trouble story au)

I’m so sorry… this ask has been invisible in my ask box for some reason?!?!? I haven’t seen it and I don’t know how long I made u wait so I’m gonna give u the best response I can make. It’s gonna be super detailed and everything~❤️❤️❤️

The reader wouldn’t be allowed to leave Jesse’s bedroom in the beginning. Jesse would have already “wife” proofed the room making every precaution to make sure there is no possible way for her to get hurt trying to run away. Windows would be nailed shut and all possible weapons would be kept out of reach.

Jesse would never let his “wife” out of his sight. He would keep everything that she needs away from her and force her to beg him to do everything for her. “Jesse… I really gotta use the bathroom…” And I can see Jesse smoking a cigar standing next to the window. He wouldn’t even look at her but he’d respond with a serious edge in his voice. “Now that’s no way to ask sweetheart.” Of course she would be take back at first, scrambling her mind for another way to ask but still saving her pride. “Can I use the bathroom…please?” She’d ask looking at the bedroom floor. Jesse would then smirk and walk to unlock the bathroom door. He’d stand in the doorway to watch of course…

Jesse definitely has the idea that he would have to “break” his “wife” like a person would do a horse. He’d want to get rid of all the fight she has in her and then make her depend on him. The bedroom she’s locked in wouldn’t have a tv or anything except for a bed and dresser. So his “wife” would mostly sleep to pass the time.

When Jesse is away for a long time, he’d lock her in the bathroom and leave a blanket and pillow in the shower. There wouldn’t be a mirror in the bathroom or anything under the sink.

After she begins to show signs of pregnancy (no baby bump yet tho), he’d begin feeding her more and giving her more attention. Jesse would begin sleeping in the same bed as her and start taking care of her appearance. He’d say misogynistic things like “A husband should be able to come home and see his wife in a nice dress~. I can see him standing behind her in the hallway mirror with his hands wrapped around her waist. He’d tell her exactly how he wants her hair and clothes kept. But… she’s not allowed to wear underwear, for easy access.

Jesse would sometimes go out for drinks, meaning that a few stray days out of the month he’d come home drunk. There will definitely be nights where Jesse wanders up the stairs looking for his “wife” for a little bit of relief.

A/N: (imma call the reader “you” now for a bit of added spice…)

You’d be asleep and then randomly have the sheets thrown off of your body and feel the weight of Jesse above you. Jesse would press into your shoulders and lay the side of his peacekeeper on your middle of your back and slur out “your gonna be real nice for me or you’re not gonna like what happens next…” You’d hear the buckle to his pants get thrown on the floor. Because he’s still drunk, his movements would be erratic and wild. Your hands would be covering your mouth to suppress any sounds as he’s forcing himself inside you. I can see calling his “wife” a bitch and saying dirty things in her ear that he wouldn’t say when he’s sober. Jesse would then fall asleep on top of you. Due to his time in Blackwatch, he’d be a super light sleeper so it would be best for you to try not to move or make any sounds.

When he’d wake up in the morning, he’d seem like a totally different person. He’d be cheerful but still holding you captive. His demeanor would be less of a killer and more like someone that wants to pretend that what he’s doing is normal. He’d be washing his face in the bathroom the next day like nothing happened the night before.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this!!! And don’t forget that my ask box is open!!!

[logmosswrites]

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

[parvulous-writings]

When you get stressed //Various Overwatch x reader

Request:    Hi! It’s me again and so basically I had a rough day today. The gist of what happened is that a pallet of frozen food was all wonky and I was pressured yesterday to push it in otherwise it will completely default causing it to shift and lean on another pallet. Come to find out that the people who are supposed to take stuff out of that freezer were not too happy as they basically threw me underneath the bus with the managers at my workplace. That almost cost me to have a panic attack in the freezers. Could I get a comfort fanfic one shot of McCree, hanzo, soldier 76, reaper and whoever else you think will fit. Coming across there s/o struggling to stay calm in a stressful situation that is out of their control kind of the same situation I was in but maybe a agent is being unfair and is pushing them too hard?  I could use some comfort to be completely honest here. 

Requested by:​​@wolvesbrigade

Summary:  So I decided to do this as more of a headcanon list with the different characters, I hope that’s alright with you!

Warnings: Vague mentions of extreme stress. 

Notes: The reason I did this as  a headcanon list for the separate characters was for a couple reasons; one it’s a lot faster! I tried to get this out as soon as I could, but I apologise for the delay nonetheless! Secondly; it allows me to look at each character individually, with  more focus on them!  My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!

Jesse McCree

Not my gif

-At first, Jesse doesn’t entirely notice your stress. He’s standing behind you, looking rather impressed at the agent giving your squad a firm talking to It takes him a fair while to notice you’re getting overwhelmed and are struggling to cope.  -But as soon as he does realise, he steps forward to stand beside you, subtly taking your hand in his own, to give it a reaffirming squeeze. It isn’t much- he can’t exactly sass back a commanding officer- but it’s the best he could do at the present scenario.  -When you eventually get released from your lecture, McCree slowly lead you to the cafeteria, getting you a mug of your favourite beverage; the cafeteria is usually pretty quiet and empty during the  middle of the day, people often eat in their quarters.  -Occasionally when the cafeteria’s too full he’ll take you back to his quarters, and swaddle you in a poncho to help you feel a little more comfortable. At least he hopes it does, you’ve never really complained about it before.  -Usually he offers you a lot of reassurance, giving you whatever you ask for, or whatever you need. He wants his partner to be happy, but he doesn’t always know how to make that happen. 

Hanzo Shimada

Not my gif

-Hanzo wasn’t with you when the other Overwatch agent was chewing you out for something beyond your control. He found you afterwards, when he went to check on you in your quarters.  -For a moment he didn’t really know what to do- he is wise in many things, but trying to help someone else deal with stress is unfortunately not really one of them.  -His first instinct is to sit by you, wait for you speak of your own accord. He doesn’t want to push you and make the situation worse. He may be a rough man, but with you- especially when you’re in a vulnerable state such as this- this is not the case.  -When you do open up to him about what happens, he carefully asks you how he can help- he doesn’t want to bombard you with offers and promises. He wants to know what you want or need to feel safe and calm.  -Sometimes he’ll let you have some of his sake :)

Jack Morrison (Soldier 76)

not my gif

-Morrison will immediately start to talk back to the agent who’s putting you under so much pressure for something that wasn’t your fault. He is not one to shy away from those giving others the guff that is uncalled for. He did hold the position of Strike Commander, after all, he commands respect above all else.  -He will make it very much known that that kind of unnecessary stress is unacceptable, and not tolerated.  -He will then pull you to the side, to ask if you’re okay; if there’s anything that he can do to help you calm down. He’s quite formal about it, but the hand on your shoulder lets you know he means well, and wants you to feel safe and comfortable in the complex.  -Later on, when he’s not on duty, he’ll bring you your favourite drink to try and make up for the overly harsh agent- nothing too fancy, and he expects the special treatment to be kept under wraps. 

Gabriel Reyes (Reaper) 

not my gif

-Reyes... Reyes is not a man who will get “soft” easily. Not at all. If he sees you getting stressed or overwhelmed, he’ll ask you to step to the side, take a few minutes to calm down, but other than that doesn’t really provide much help.  -He’ll give you a few check up conversations every so often, when he knows you’ve had a tough day or rough week. It’s nothing much, but hey, at least he cares.  -However, if he finds someone chewing you out, he will get defensive on your behalf- pushing them away to give you some space and ordering them to get lost. He may not have had the same title as people like Morrison, but he commanded respect and fear in his own way. 

[elaineiswithyou-blog]

Overwatch Soulmate AU

Characters: Hanzo, McCree, Zenyatta and Sombra Hanzo (credit to LukeLemon_art)

Soulmate AU: Timer Hanzo had never truly be fond of the idea of soulmates after Genji’s death. As a kid, all he ever seemed to do when he was bored would be to watch the timer on his wrist countdown. Now a days he uses his glove and some of his clothes to cover his timer. Hanzo hates to be reminded of it, hence why he avoids Tracer and a lot of the younger overwatch staff who pester him about it. One day while he was out working, he spotted a shiny metal bracelet. Someone was stuck under some debris that had fallen over on top of them. Hanzo used his muscles to lift off the debris and picked up the person who laid unconscious but thankfully still breathing. Hanzo immediately took them to Angela who was able to heal up their wounds quickly but they would still be unconscious for some time according to Angela. Hanzo had to leave after a bit but he still felt concerned and nervous about them. There was something that drew Hanzo to them. Angela told Hanzo they would have to bring the person they found back to the base to watch over them since the hospital was so full and they didn’t have any phone or anything you could use to ID the person or anyone who might know them. Hanzo simply nodded and headed back to the ship, deciding to sit beside Angela and the person instead of alone like her normally would. Hanzo didn’t realize that they were his soulmate until he got back to the base and went to change into more casual clothes and take a shower. He noticed his timer was at zero all across the board and a new piece under it with a date and time. The time he had saw the unconscious person at. Hanzo quickly threw on his clothes and headed to the medical bay where he sat until he saw them wake up. “Hello. My name is Hanzo.” McCree (Credit to Leoz ETM on ArtStation)

Soulmate AU: Matching Tattoos/Symbols McCree had always had a white skull tattoo with pink eyes on his shoulder since he was a kid. He thought it was kinda cute in all honesty but it was hard to see people’s shoulders unless you were at the beach because most tops obscured the view. Even though he wore his with pride, he wasn’t all that considered about finding his soulmate right at the moment because right now he was in a pretty heavy fire standoff with the deadlock gang and Ashe. His scarf and clothes covered his shoulder at the moment. You were just a simple waitress at the route 66 diner which soon seemed to be laced with the sounds of heavy fire gunshots right outside the door. Despite trying your best to duck in hide, someone still got you right in the shoulder where your soulmate tattoo was. Once the gunfire stopped, you forced yourself to stand, still heavily bleeding as you shout for help from anybody and soon enough. The cowboy you were hosting comes waltzing back in. He noticed you bleeding and quickly hopped over the counter and took his scarf off, revealing his own tattoo. You didn’t notice right now, too scared for your life and distracted by your aching arm. McCree rolled up your sleeve quickly and used his scarf to wrap around your wound which was right above your own tattoo. He only said anything about it after once you weren’t bleeding as much. “Well I’ll be damned. The names Jesse McCree darling.” Zenyatta (Credit to Asteltainn on Instagram)

Soulmate AU: Unique numbers Zenyatta was very clueless about soulmates and what it meant to have one before he had meet Genji who taught him more about soulmates. Zenyatta was utterly fascinated about soulmates and having one himself. Zenyatta’s number was 421378912. Once he had begun to explore the world, some with Genji and some by himself, he learned even more about soulmates. You lived in a small village in rural Japan called Usiga. You and your family worked the hard lands, farming and caring for livestock. It was a tough job but you had found peace and content with this type of work, knowing you could provide for your family and for others like your own with fresh and affordable locally farmed food. One day on your trip to the local farmers market where you and your family sold veggies, fruits, and meats, you meet a wonderful omnic called Zenyatta. You both got to talking and soon shared your numbers with one another. “I am glad to see we are compatible.” Sombra (Credit it to dikatsuu)

Soulmate AU: Names Ever since Sombra had to provide for herself she has been looking for you but you were elusive, evasive. You knew how to hide and Sombra liked the challenge. As you two grew older, Sombra was able to learn more about you, find you but still you seemed one step ahead of her. You knew someone was out for you but who? You stole from a lot of fancy white rich people. It could be any of them. One night you decide to take a break, buy a room at the local motel and head over to a local bar nearby. This time, Sombra was a step ahead. When you two locked eyes as soon as you entered the bar, you figured it would be useless to run. Sombra seemed a bit disappointed but happy to finally see you in person. She bought you a drink before starting the conversation. “You are so much prettier in person. Sombra.”

[cyberrat]

53rd Batch Of Fics: 7th Fill

McCree/Hanzo – Minotaur AU – Part 18 – animalistic fucking – They're just getting out all that mutual attraction and pent up horniness in one giant fuck mmmhhh

---

He feels like an animal when Jesse crawls back over him, saliva dripping down the insides of his thighs, cock drooling into the sand beneath him. There are dark shadows creeping at the edge of his peripherie but he can’t tell whether those are people or just smoke.

Everything feels far away and way too close at the same time.

Jesse’s cock presses against his hole, starting to push inside, and his jaw falls open, tongue lolling out in an instant.

Behind his closed eyes he can see flashes of the dick he had witnessed what feels like forever ago. Those pretty, irregular spots on it showing off the fat veins… he also remembers vividly the flat crown that is now being crammed into him by Jesse.

The minotaur is huge and strong; he could grab him around the middle and spear into him in one brutal thrust, he knows. Part of him wants that. He wants to choke on Jesse’s cock crawling up his throat and be used like a living fleshlight-

Alas, his stud is careful with him. Mostly.

Hot gusts of his breath waft down against the back of Hanzo’s head as Jesse rocks into him. The flared tip is, thankfully, a lot softer than Hanzo would have anticipated. The spongy fringe is squishy enough to mold itself to his struggling hole and give him at least a bit of reprieve as he is spread open way too far way too sudden.

Jesse grunts above him. His shadow is covering the whole world, it feels like. The heat from his body is like a furnace, enveloping Hanzo to an uncomfortable degree.

He can’t move away. He is fixed to the spot, kept there by Jesse’s cock and his own mindless arousal as he tries to rock himself backward and force more and more of the meaty shaft to spread him open.

Sweat is rolling along his spine and down the sides of his face. When he opens his eyes, he can see the bodies of Jesse’s latest victims, lying mangled on the ground. Their closeness, for some reason, turns Hanzo on even more. He arches his spine down and howls with frustration because he wants Jesse inside him. Fully. Now.

He wants to get fucked.

Jesse laughs above him, low and ominous. Hanzo doesn’t know how much of this he had thought and how much he had said out loud. Jesse leans down, curving himself awkwardly so he can sniff at the side of Hanzo’s face.

There’s no doubt in Hanzo’s mind that if he had been able to, he would have started licking Hanzo’s armpit again. The thought has his whole body feel electrified and tender. He keeps clawing at the ground.

Just as he had imagined, hoped, wished, his hips… ache. The deeper Jesse saws his massive erection into Hanzo’s tender, struggling insides, the more he feels like his hips are going to split apart. He’s never been filled to such an extent.

It makes him feel a bit panicky; like Jesse’s dick should be encroaching on his lungs and make it harder to breathe. As a matter of fact, he can only pant like a dog as he is being fucked by this beast, nice and slow and deep.

He’s got a rhythm now. He moves like a tidal wave atop of Hanzo. If he lets his head hang down, he can look down his body and see the massive breeder balls swinging as Jesse moves. They’re piebald like the rest of him and the size of grapefruits.

Hanzo can barely hold a proper thought.

He is so preoccupied with watching their pendulum back-and-forth motion that it takes him way too long to realize that there’s a bulge in his belly that is moving with Jesse’s massive dick.

That’s his cock. I can see his cock through my belly because it’s just so big.

Hanzo has to close his eyes and turn his head away from it. He is drooling and panting and all he can do is get up on the balls of his feet and lift his ass up higher as he crouches beneath Jesse like the beast he has devolved into. He doesn’t feel very human at the moment.

Especially with bloody bodies right in front of him.

Jesse is grunting softly with every thrust, deep voice vibrating into Hanzo’s very core. His bones feel tingly.

“Gonna breed you up, little thing,” Jesse croons nice and low, a rough edge to his words. “Gonna put a calf in your pretty little belly and take good care of you… make sure you’re getting big and fat with it…”

It’s impossible. Of course it is. It is just common sense… but in this moment Hanzo believes it whole heartedly. He feels like Jesse’s little cow. He almost fucking moos as that swollen cock lightly shifts angle and starts to hit something inside him that he is suitably sure has not been designed to be touched by an erection.

Stars explode in front of his eyes. He starts to scrabble at a halt and in his need starts to grab the arm of one of the dead bodies in front of him, holding on for dear life as Jesse’s thrusts become harder and more desperate, his swollen sac now touching Hanzo’s tight balls every now and then.

It feels impossibly hot to the touch. Filled to the brim with his molten cum.

Hanzo doesn’t have a lot of fantasy… but even he can imagine how it oozes out of that glorious cock, the piss slit dilating to pump out nice, thick loads right into Hanzo’s guts until he feels full to bursting-

“There we go… there we go, little sweetheart-”

Hanzo can hear the crunch of Jesse’s hoofs digging into the dirt. He is being pushed forward, speared on cock, feeling like his eyes are about to pop out of his skull.

Part of him is offended that Jesse doesn’t wait for him to shoot his load…

But then he feels the heat filling his belly, and the alien feeling of a massive cock flexing inside his guts – and Hanzo is off like a shot himself, eyes rolling into his skull as he shakes through orgasm, shooting his load on the ground like an animal.

There aren’t any thoughts in his head, really. He’s still clutching on to a corpse’s arm like a lifeline, his feet having left the ground halfway through as Jesse kept pushing and pushing and pushing until he literally hang off his cock.

His limbs keep twitching every now and then.

This is absolute madness.

.o.

How adorable the little thing sounds when it comes on his cock like the most obedient toy.

Jesse feels on top of the world. The hot need to fuck out his bloodlust into that warm, silky hole is abating now, the pressure in his nuts easing off as he pumps his load out into that deliciously hot pussy.

He honestly hadn’t thought he could fit all of himself into Hanzo… but he took it like a champ with barely a hitch in his breath as Jesse speared himself into him nice and easy.

Hanzo doesn’t move much beneath him. He just keeps groaning drawn out and low, sounding wrecked.

Jesse wonders what he’ll do once he starts moving again.

[yandereaffections]

Jesse knows this well and best believe he takes advantage, not wasting time to restrain your hands besides you or above you head around the edge of your orgasm, not caring if its only been a few minutes since he started railing into you Jesse just wants to see that cute lil face of yours turn flustered as you squirm beneath him trying to protest all the while moaning and gasping out for him, feeling yourself melt into the sheets as heat spreads through your veins, Mccrees eyes never once moving away from your blissful expression

Cooing at you for how cute your whimpers sound while caressing down from your hands he once restrained to tracing up and down your sides, adoring how easily overwhelmed you can get from the smallest things he does. Whats better than watching you cum once? Watching you cum again, multiple times until you cant take it anymore, fucked into a sweaty whimpering mess

Unless your quick to get on your knees to get him off with your soft lips do expect to be pounded into the bed until your a overstimulated disarray of begs and pleads, cum soaked thighs with scratches all over your hips from Mccrees grip

Jesse may not even last as long as he thinks he would due to how alluring the sounds you make are, so sensitive under every sensual touch he makes, it unravels him to the point where his thrusts start to sputter, getting weaker and closer to cumming the more you moan out his name calling out for mercy. Baby he couldnt enjoy the fact you cum so quickly just from simple touches from him alone more than he already does 

[my-ultimate-is-ready]

Spending long summer nights with lifeguard Mccree ;)

The heatwave means it's offensively hot.

Jesse’s proposed solution was an after-hours visit to the pool. Although that meant breaking in, his reasoning was sound: “what was it built for if not swimmin’ in?”

So, there you are, sandals and towels shrugged off by the reclining chairs spotting the concrete perimeter, cooling off in the illuminated, crystalline water. If he doesn’t tell, you won’t either.

With his extravagantly sun-bleached hair and eyes just barely sticking out above the surface, much like an alligator, Jesse floats closer to you, warranting your laugh and attempt to escape. Even if half of his face is underwater, you know his expression well. He presses an exhale out of his nose in a snort, creating a trail of bubbles, amused by your sudden conviction. When he resurfaces to speak, there’s a wide grin plastered over him.

“Oh, I’ll get ya,” he declares. “Don’t think I won’t!”

You correctly identify a challenge in his words and tear off towards the opposite side of the pool. But Jesse is much faster—he is a lifeguard, after all—and you think your headstart has worked in your favour because you don’t hear him splashing behind you, but little do you realize it’s because he swims under your very feet, popping out in front of you before you reach the deep end. If there were a pool noodle within reach, you’d smack him over the head with one for startling you. Playfully, of course.

Instead, you reach out for his shoulders, gripping on—registering his warm skin in welcome contrast to the cool, chlorinated water. The only thing between you, save for the shiny silver whistle around his neck, is a mischievous look that swiftly overtakes his face.

[vastiitas]

History & Verses

BASIC RUNDOWN:

As of present, 37 years old. Observant beneath a seemingly open, laid-back, and charismatic attitude. Was all thunder and fury as a kid - it’s weathered away, softened, but manifests when you poke all the wrong buttons. He’s still got his impulsive, reckless and hot-headed tendencies for all his suave lounging he does now. Deadeye marksman with a revolver and knows his way through a grapple and brawl. If he’s not in trouble, he’ll make or find it; his impishness knows no bounds. Instinctively protective of those who can’t protect themselves, though he isn’t quite aware of it. Resourceful.

In terms of appearance, he’s 6′1. Brown Hair, Brown eyes. Left arm is replaced by a prosthetic, the amputation being transhumeral/above elbow (though whether or not he has it will be dependent on the timeline/verse.) In terms of Overwatch, I prefer his design of the first game over the second, so his attire will mostly be in reference to that.

To really break down my portrayal, I try to take pieces from: Cool Hand Luke (estranged relationship with god, when his mother says fondly and teasingly "you were boring everybody" when he tried to be a proper fiancé, when he says "i haven't planned a single thing in my life", his boyish instigations, when they give him his namesake and go "sometimes nothing can be a real cool hand!", and his inevitable death being true to his nature); just a lil bit of blondie from the good the bad the ugly (keeping cards close to his chest, his quiet empathy towards tuco as they leave the church and later the dying soldiers, being a show-off but also a dork in his own right, discernment to be wise enough to look out for one's own self-interest), and a bit of John Marst (disillusionment with Causes, being chained along to be used by the government, betrayal/being left for dead by the people you used to think of as family) and RDR in the more general sense that if I don't see him walking around in that universe as a grounded person - he simply does not sit right with me. I try also to integrate the violence within the books of C.ormac McC.arthy. There's a sort of mischief and craftiness that comes with a coyote motif. Self contradictory in being laid back, but also impatient and reckless (though more present in his earlier years and less so in the later -- unless you know him well). Headstrong and bold, but kind. Someone who can make himself at home anywhere. There's a running theme of self-burial and bloody baptisms: he has killed cole cassidy for all of his weakness; he has put to rest jesse mccree for all of his wounds that were too much to bear. Honorable Mentions include: JB Mau.ney (bull rider), and Randle McMurphy (One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest), and Odysseus (Homer) for his perpetual bad luck and wily nature (but also this fic Captures Everything Quite Well), sometimes Achilles w his righteous anger.

pre-deadlock

V;HEATHEN THING BORNE FROM DIRT AND DESOLATION

ah, well, you know how the story goes. farm boy lives on a farm, war comes, war tears up the country, war tears up the world, farm boy is now an orphan boy who gets tossed around between foster homes 'til it starts getting on his nerves. the boundless sky mocks him, the dirt a reminder of what he's been reduced to; the grit of it scorns him on his skin. the boy finally says, "fuck this, fuck everything," and becomes a runaway. wild thing, coarse, and wary; but not without his charms when he feels like he doesn't got anything to prove. the name "cole cassidy" died with his family, but it sits tentative on his tongue like a habit that has yet to be kicked.

Headcanons about his youth can be found here.

deadlock.

V;CHASE THAT ADRENALINE DOWN WITH A CLASSIC TRAIN HEIST

the summer is screaming. gun shots, buck shots, iron cracking, glass shattering. home isn't an easy thing for jesse mccree, but he thinks he found one amongst the drum of bedlam and people here, in the seedling starts of a gang that will soon become a monster of a force in the American West. a boyish crush on a respectable girl-turned-woman, he strides alongside her steadily. banter, laughter, liquor. from 15 to sweet 17, he's on the adrenaline high of train heists. a menace, with his six-shooter and a mean deadeye. scrappy and snappy to authority, still a lanky son of a bitch growing steadily into the meat of muscle he's yet to don. a thorn spurs into his side though, slides right into his heart and festers. it feels insiduous, like doubt, and it feels like damnation. nauseatingly, something about it's like watching a compass turn away from north; but, hell, maybe that's just the booze. (i read deadlock rebels, and i'm not going to refute it.)

early blackwatch.

V;PRISON WITH A LEASH

an ultimatum is an ultimatum: a life-time of prison or service for covert-ops. hell, he thinks. hell, he reckons. at the very least, he'll get to stretch out his legs. an understatement, with what's to come in training. as far as he's concerned, he's an animal to be broken into; a hardy, mishapen piece of clay that they're trying to mould and shape. amusingly enough, it's looking not too different from what it already was: gun-shaped and deadly, being fine-tuned for the red hand of blackwatch. jesse mccree has always been easy to make friends with, but the people here, as far as he's concerned, are either mission objectives or prison wardens. he keeps his cards close, watching like he'd done as a child, biding his time to run. 

blackwatch.

V;SECOND HOME AND SECOND CHANCES

steadily enough, blackwatch and overwatch has wormed his way into his heart. at first, it'd been a veneer of professionalism forced upon him by military decorum, but it's near painful for him to consider that maybe, just maybe, he's found a second family. age and retrospect gives him a little more clarity in that the ultimatum really was an open-handed opportunity. his time with blackwatch in his early years hasn't beaten his tact from train heists out of him yet. still a little reckless, still taking gambits. a maverick, in his own right. he holds his cards a little less so tightly to his chest, learns to be less wary of omnics and ais, and is keener on the rolling with the punches than the resentment he'd held before. 

outlaw.

V;OUTLAW IN THE NEW WEST

disillusionment. with blackwatch and overwatch's fall, he reckons right or wrong aren't so defined after all. redemption is a hack of a word, one he'll forever associate with what they'd told him that he was doing. up until things just got a little too dirty. if he'd seen it earlier, maybe he could have stopped it. or, maybe it's just that he's a little bit too rotten, and he'll always fall a step left on that clean moral line. it wasn't like he disagreed that the man had to be taken down. at the end of the day, he's back in the dirt. back to a vague sense of home, some strange body of familiarity with the hug of gritty discomforts. money comes and goes, changes hand to hand. he picks up the jobs that he has to. he'll be hard-pressed to do some good, but maybe he can't help himself when something tips that moral compass needle anywhere away from the true north that he's learned to define himself. 

overwatch.

V;BACK IN THE SADDLE 

overwatch comes back. it stands, tall and defiant, struggling to find its legs proper, but deteremined nonetheless. a cynical part of him needles at him that this won't last, it'll collapse in itself like before. but there's no blackwatch this time, only an earnest, perhaps overly-idealistic gorilla who sees when there's wrong to be righted. with terrorist organizations back on the rise, with some mumbo-jumbo about bettering this or that, challenging humanity to be better or screaming about its downfall, he reckons overwatch is the one thing that stands against another omnic war in the making and creating more aimless, orphaned jesse mccree's in the world. if overwatch can come back from the grave, he reckons, cole cassidy can, too. better, that way, when there's a bounty hanging over the mccree name anyhow. (1)

retirement.

V;LIVING PAST THE MYTHOS

Self-Explanatory

a modern verse.

V;MODERN TAKE ON A DYING BREED

Same run down: Farm Boy turned Orphan turned Runaway. No Robot War to kill the parents, but it’s an unfortunate plight all the same anchored by shady back room deals. Ran away from the changing of foster homes to a string of farms looking for farmhands. Lost his left arm to a piece of equipment at one of those megafarms, got given the boot, got drunk, got angry, did something stupid, got into a gang, got arrested. if only out of spite, he attempted all the different ways he could try and make a break for it, but there’s only so much you can do when you’ve got phantom pains crippling your stub of an arm. somewhere down the line, after his release, he picks up a prosthetic and tries his remaining hand at bounty hunting after a serendipitous moment of taking down some asshole who decided to shoot up a diner.

this tag is a catch-all for all periods of his life in this verse unlike the filing system for his ovw verses.

rancher.

V;LIL SLICE OF HEAVEN SADDLED ON A COWPUNCHER'S DREAM

kid that came from dust-scraps that took to the pbr as soon as he could (min age is 18 for entry, I'm sure); he quickly takes the stage by storm as the kid who came from nowhere. in elaboration to his youth: it's not so different from how it is in all his other verses. a dispossesed, orphan traveller who works his ocassional odd jobs, but for the most part he DOES stick to being a cowhand; bothering the local vaqueros and rancheros about rodeo competitions. he does a lot of trial and error learning on his own, uses a lot of secondhand and borrowed equipment while building his own set for his first entry. before the loss of his parents, he'd started with mutton busting and being put on top of steers as per most kids. cole's other point of interest in the competitions is steer wrestling, which he will perform for on the occassion, but not as frequently for a bull ride; he's also a mean ass roper - but he keeps this skillset to the job despite folk asking him to partner up for team-roping or just enter as a roper. cole takes a lot of his winning funds to settle out and work his own property in his downtime. it's a modest size compared to an average ranch (he keeps about ~25 head or less), and he keeps it this way to be manageable when he's travelling between competitions. good neighbors will ranch-sit for him while he's away. he's well-known and well-regarded in the town he settles down in; knows most people's names. im just going to put some of his other modern-verse npc's residing in this town which include Ernesto, who taught him to maintain and build a motorbike, and Ol' Kooky Sal who threw him around on a crop duster plane. He still loses his arm, at some point. while this forces him into retirement for bull-riding purposes, he does continue with the upkeep of his ranch and falls into other portions of the events, such as bull fighting (protecting riders when they dismount), and the raising and training of bulls.

western period verse.

V;CAUGHT STILL IN TIME BY A BYGONE ERA

For RDR and etc.// I keep this vague in order to play Cole to whatever dynamic  is desired or comes into play. Otherwise, you can generally expect the same story beats as above: orphan -> gang -> mutual betrayal within gang that leaves him half dead and picked up by a lawman who gives him a second chance as opposed to a noose (age: 17) -> spends his time as a deputy and bounty man, eventually splitting and/or putting his mentor figure in the ground due to a combination of illness and political corruption.

tlou/post-apocalyptic verse.

V;TIP-TOEING THE RAZOR'S EDGE OF AN UNCERTAIN TOMORROW

For tlou, zombies, etc. Generally, a raider that can act in a group or solo. Tends to keep to himself and a wanderer. Also left vague to accommodate case-by-case plotting.

supermax prison. (upon request)

V;JUMPSUIT ORANGE AND JAIL CELL GREY

OVW DIVERGENT VERSE. he doesn’t take the ultimatum to join blackwatch and is set to spend the rest of his life in a prison. This verse can be set to further develop into a talon verse in itself after a Talon or Null Sector attack (whether wayward or intentional) causes an impromptu jail break. Keeping this separate from the Talon Verse below in order to allow room for Gabriels who want the potential for a pre-established past connection vs keeping it anon and new.

That said, most of the focus would be exploring relationships in prison and visitations.

talon verse. (upon request)

V;COULDN'T SCRUB THE DEVIL OUT OF YOU

" I can see your soul at the edges of your eyes. It's corrosive, like acid. You got a demon, little man. And I don't like your face. “

Callsign’s predictably Deadeye, but more for the dead-eyed look he’s carrying around. Started out as a muttered, whispered nickname amongst the grunts when he wasn’t feeling particularly conversational and stuck. He’ll introduce himself as Jesse though.

Personality wise: He’s basically the same, 'cept there's something perpetually restless itching beneath his skin. starting shit just to start shit, throttling forward into void with a devil’s glint in the eyes. This is a man with nothing to live for and nothing to lose - living a purgatorial existence where the only thing that serves to make him feel alive is when life or death is at stake. The sun blows out to a black hole; leaving behind a shattered carpet of shredded light and an unrelenting appetite for more.

OTHER STATS

Has a conversational grasp on Spanish. Grew up with it with a bunch of farm hands.

Texan outfit, Texan boy, Texan Southern Drawl.

Didn’t have a formal education prior to BW.

Is wary af abt omnics until fully integrated into OW.

has a bounty on his own head in OW verses. Not included in modern verse, but we can make it a separate one if you’d like >:)c

Joel was his father’s name. A narcissist obsessed with using those around him to better his own ends, Cole learned from him at an early age how to identify all the tells of a person trying to get something from you and at the basic level on how to lay on the charm (which he later developed further into his own thing.) Frequent arguments broke between them, bearing onto the physical, with mostly the blame falling onto him due to his own habits of instigating and finding trouble. There are some scars on his back from these years as a child; they’re faded and lost to other wounds as of current day.  

For OVW: I try to keep connections vague to have room with other people’s interpretations of their characters. For threads that don’t make use of these characters, here are my general takes on his feelings for said characters:

I personally think Reyes makes a Dutch equivalent for Cole (which in itself is all very complicated; dutch has shit going on, but i think he genuinely cared when things were good), but I specifically made his father a narcissist in order to give more room for lighter bonds/connections.

I also regard the falling out with Deadlock as a mutual betrayal; Cole came out of it bleeding and bruised. He will regard Ashe with wariness: He misses her, but the feelings are complicated. I see their ovw2 voicelines as more sibling antagonism than outright animosity. He does not rat on DL.

Jack may be “the golden boy” of ovw but my Cassidy won’t resent him for “not getting his hands dirty” like the bw crew. He might make fun of him for it, but Jack, to him, reads like an earnest guy trying his best. i think that jack is the one that gave him permission to leave when bw went to shit in retribution; furthering tensions between him and reyes. this doesn’t need to be the canon if you’re a character (e.i. reyes) that closely interacts with a jack.

ana amari was his first step in integrating with the ovw crew. Her sharpshooting skills and resourcefulness lended respect (the latter a feeling of ilk) and marks his shift from being wary of what he considered his prison wardens to genuine mentor figures. Reyes taught him a lot, but he enjoyed Amari's lessons the most.

For OVW - Explaining the Deadeye mechanic: On here, it’s an adrenaline effect; where one hits peak flow and it nearly becomes meditative. Cole’s good at keeping his head under pressure, actually almost relaxes in it, and this is that same thing except scaled up to 1000%. idk if you’ve ever, like, filled up a room with your presence alone without even a word, but it happens and i imagine this plays into the whole thing you see in-game when he activates it. post-adrenaline fatigue does hit him, and it hits him hard when he uses the mechanic multiple times within a short period.

Headcanons

Further Peripheral Details

[fic-request-blog]

Five Times Hanzo's Dragons Protect McCree and One Time They Didn’t Have To

This is a request by an anon here on Tumblr for a “Five Times Hanzo's Dragons Protect McCree and One Time They Didn’t Have To.” It really is what’s on the lid. Oh, and they fall in love while we’re at it.

Fluff, angst, humor, rated T for non-explicit violence and mentions of sexual content, ~3K.

Read it here on AO3 instead.

Five Times Hanzo's Dragons Protect McCree and One Time They Didn’t Have To

  Chapter 1

Jesse places his hand on the payload, sighing in relief, “Alright folks, we’re at the-“

Something clicks on the payload, a trigger slipping into place as Jesse checks inside. It’s empty except for a small bundle in the center. A tiny, almost translucent wire settles against the inner side of the payload and Jesse closes his eyes. Maybe he can save them from some damage on the off chance he survives this.

He knows what comes next, of course. The whole mission had been suspiciously easy. He shoulda figured.

The blast is strong enough that he’s blown clear over the wall behind him and dropped thirty some feet into the roiling sea below. From there, Jesse loses track of what’s happening. It’s a damn shame his boots and gear are so heavy, he muses, or he’d maybe be able to float up, or even swim up.

But his head is fuzzy, his ears are ringing, and it’s not like he coulda figured out which way was up anyhow. The world turns to blue around him, deep and quiet. His mind swirls around in his head as much as the water around him.

Peaceful. The blue around him is nice, and he doesn’t feel cold or any of the pain that he’s sure he should. He’d always thought he’d go down fightin’ it to the end, but this…this ain’t a bad way to go.

The blue gets brighter and brighter as he continues to slide through the water, which don’t make much sense, but he ain’t really thinking well anyhow, so maybe that’s just how death works. He watches pretty, sparkling circles drift away in the light and finally closes his eyes.

Something wraps around him, warm and comfortable, and Jesse thinks death really ain’t as bad as people make it out to be. Feels a lot like flying.

  Chapter 2

There’s another roar of laughter from the bar and Hanzo rolls his eyes, safe in the darkness of his corner booth. The cowboy has certainly recovered well, as is evident by the amount of whiskey he has managed to drink this evening. There was…uncertainty for a short time. The near drowning had been a non-issue, but the burns and injuries to his face, torso, and arms had been far more critical, though Baptiste assured them all he would make a full recovery. Being blown over the wall and into the water had apparently been a far better outcome than being blown into the wall.

Frowning, Hanzo drops his gaze to the sake in his cup. He is perturbed by his own strong reaction to witnessing McCree in peril. They have only been on perhaps four missions together; they have not known one another for long. As another boisterous laugh erupts from the bar, he cannot resist watching McCree again. He is honest enough with himself to admit that the cowboy’s easy and honest personality appeals to him, and the man’s appearance, though crude, is…well-built. Hanzo knows what he likes, and McCree would be, as the American says, a cool drink of water. It does not hurt either that McCree seems to enjoy complementing Hanzo, especially regarding Hanzo’s skill with a bow. It takes more honesty with himself than he has while sober to admit that McCree is partially getting to him through his ego, but with a bottle of sake to nurse, Hanzo can swallow that truth this evening. There are few things he likes more than someone appreciating his skills.

Yet, it is rare for him to become so instantly attached, especially at work. He is usually firm about separating his professional and private lives. It seems McCree has wormed his way into Hanzo’s good graces.

Flexing his fingers, Hanzo sighs. It is not only Hanzo who is intrigued either; the dragons had reacted both swiftly and violently at the danger to the cowboy. If they intend to react like that again, Hanzo may need to be more careful in the future.

By the time the other Overwatch agents begin to trickle out of the bar, it is late, and Hanzo decides he too should find rest. That he leaves shortly after McCree is but a coincidence, he is sure.

There is a pleasant buzz under his skin and the night air is cool as he walks back to the compound. He does not rush, but it takes only a minute or so to catch sight of a familiar hat bobbing through the streets. McCree has one arm across Baptiste’s shoulders, but the other man must be drunk as well because they both weave haphazardly through the streets.

Smile quirking at his lips, Hanzo slows to maintain distance between them. While he did not mind McCree paying for his drinks this evening in thanks for saving his life, nor any of the other words of praise McCree lavished upon him, he does not intend to deal to with two drunks. He will simply follow to make sure they reach the compound.

Later, Hanzo will blame the noise McCree and Baptiste are making for his lapse of concentration, though the sake likely did not help either. He certainly will not admit to watching McCree too closely, the way his hips sway pleasingly as he tries to walk upright down the street.

The first bullet catches McCree in the shoulder, only missing the back of his head because Baptiste had stumbled, dragging the cowboy to the left at just the right moment. Even drunk, though, the two can react swiftly, and the second bullet finds only cobblestones.

Hanzo does not know if the shooter is aware of his position nor does he wait long enough to see if McCree or Baptiste are hit by the third shot. He simply pivots, leaping against the wall to his right and ricochets off to the left, onto the roof the shooter is likely using. Tracing the trajectory of the shots is child’s play.

He has no bow, no weapon at all in fact, but that will make little difference. The silence of the night is interrupted only by a fourth shot. Hanzo’s quiet footfalls as he flits across the roof and his tattoos flaring to life make no noise at all.

He cannot see precisely where the shooter is, but the dragons can taste the gunpowder on the air. They arc across the roof, blue light blinding in the still of the night.

There is not a fifth shot.

  Chapter 3

“Thanks Angel,” Jesse smiles as he dodges into an alcove, reloading, “glad ta have your eyes on me!”

Hanzo makes an affirmative noise over the comms and falls silent. Jesse’s not sure if the man minds him callin’ him angel. Hanzo’s hard to read. He’s more stoic than a brick wall. But the guy has saved Jesse’s life twice already, so he can’t hate Jesse too much. If Jesse thinks of Hanzo as his own personal guardian angel, well, Hanzo hasn’t stopped him callin’ him that yet. An’ Hanzo’s not exactly a shy guy. Jessie is sure he woulda spoken up if it bothered him.

So, the real question is, does Hanzo like him callin’ him angel? Because if he does… Jesse certainly would like to know about that.

It takes some focus to shift his attention from thinking about Hanzo’s form when the man is pulling back that bow of his to the battle at hand. The way those tattoos wrap around Hanzo’s biceps as he knocks an arrow, almost like they’re alive, is real…distracting.

The man’s prettier than just about anyone Jesse has ever seen.

Something explodes behind their position and Hanzo’s voice crackles over the line, even more terse than usual.

“Move! All of you!”

Jesse jumps from their position, breaking cover with the rest of the team as the building behind them rumbles ominously. 

“They’ve destroyed the building’s supports!”

Cursing, Jesse breaks into a full sprint, watching as the building’s shadow continues to lengthen in front of the team, the ground shuddering beneath them. Things have gone from not great to shit real fast and Jesse’s not sure which direction will stop them all from getting squashed like bugs. There’s a lot of buildings all around them and the one they’d been sheltering behind was tall.

Probably no direction except up is safe.

And then there’s a bright blue light behind them, throwing the shadow of the building back, and Jesse is picked right up off the ground, something big rushing above him.

Gasping, Jesse wriggles, arms pinned to his sides, “What-!”

Similar noises of surprise over the comms from the rest of the team are drowned out as the building crashes into the ground, dust and the accompanying shockwave deafening and blinding Jesse to the ensuing chaos. Air continues to rush past him. He coughs but can’t hear it, can only feel the rattle of his lungs as he tries to clear the dust.

Jesse’s not sure how long they’re in the air. It coulda been seconds or minutes, he wasn’t keeping track. At some point, whatever’s got ahold of him slows down. He cracks an eye open, squinting in the sun as he continues to hack up a lung.

He’s dropped gently onto a roof, and there is, and Jesse ain’t a liar, two dragons dropping the rest of the team onto the roof as well. They are long and blue.

Jesse is freaking out a bit, trying to get a better look from where he lays on his stomach, but the coughing isn’t helping. With wide eyes, he watches Hanzo hop off the back of one of them, graceful as ever. The dragons begin to shrink, smaller and smaller, until they wrap around Hanzo’s arm, stilling as they bleed into his skin.

There ain’t a speck of dust on Hanzo as he turns towards Jesse and, as he walks over, Jesse’s not sure if it’s the dust’s fault that he can’t breathe right. The man is a sight to behold.

Lips quirking in amusement, Hanzo raises a brow, “you dropped this, cowboy,” he says, Jesse’s hat gripped lightly in in his hand.

If Jesse weren’t still winded and coughing, he’d swoon.

  Chapter 4

Whatever Hanzo and he have between them is new but so sweet and it feels like it could be goin’ somewhere real good. His thoughts are a little muddy though, swinging from their current predicament to maudlin anger. Life ain’t fair, Jesse knows that. He’s lived a life most people would consider pretty shit, but he’s never begged like this.

“Dunno what I gotta say,” he rasps, arms tightening around Hanzo’s limp form draped across his chest and down his legs, “but please, ‘m beggin ya ta get him outta here.”

It’s only been a month since they started taking dinner together, sitting in quiet spots around base and drinking long into the night. Jesse’s never considered himself a gifted conversationalist, but with Hanzo, words just come easier.

The wall behind him is cold and the alcove he’s dragged them both into is barely big enough to cover them, but with a bust leg and Hanzo’s dead weight, he isn’t going to get anywhere else. Still, the tattoos on Hanzo’s arm remain just that, tattoos.

“Please, please, I know you’re in there, please.”

With one hand, he presses against the sticky mess of Hanzo’s temple, using his chest as a better headrest than the wall, while the other hand shakily holds his poncho to the wound seeping at Hanzo’s side. This thing they’ve got going between them is still so new and the bitter reality that he’s probably not going to see where it goes is pulling pleas from his lips better than any torture he’s faced.

“Please,” he whispers, breath puffing across the crown of Hanzo’s head, disturbing the hairs escaped from the man’s usually perfect bun, “please.”

Hell, they’ve only kissed a couple times. The first had been messy with nerves and drink, but the second. Oh, the second had been slow as molasses and curled his toes right in his boots. Hanzo had backed him up against a door with a hand gripping possessively along his jaw. Just the smolder Hanzo left him with as the man sauntered away, bidding him goodnight, had made Jesse so hot under the collar a cold shower hadn’t done much.

There’s no glow from Hanzo’ arm still, no shiver of electricity in the air, and Jesse starts to lose the little bit of hope still scrabbling at the back of his mind.

“C’mon, you can’t leave him to die like this, please,” his voice just loud enough to hear over the pounding of blood in his ears as the stomp of boots echo off the walls not too far down the corridor, “please, ‘m beggin’ ya, please.”

Tears well hot and heavy at the corner of his eyes as his pleas continue, quieter and quieter as whoever is drawing near gets closer and closer. Damn it all, he’d only gotten the balls to ask Hanzo out on a real date days ago. They’re not going to get a chance to see where this will go, and he’s never hated this shit hand in life more.

A gun cocks at the entrance to their little alcove. Jesse doesn’t look up. Not because he’s too chicken shit to stare down a barrel, god knows he’s done that enough in his life, but because there’s a familiar blue glow spilling from Hanzo’s arm and he can’t look away. Relief steals the very breath from his lungs.

Well, maybe that’s partly the rib giving him a nasty poke to the lung too.

  Chapter 5

Someone makes a sound somewhere to his left, a whimper, and Hanzo struggles towards consciousness. His mind swirls. Time seems to waver. Eventually, or perhaps mere moments later, he cracks his eyes open. For long seconds, he is unable to place where he is, but slowly the shadows skulking about form into the familiar interior of the infirmary. He relaxes slightly. At least it is unlikely he is in danger here.

Again, a soft whimper draws his attention to the left. It takes far more energy to turn his head than Hanzo thinks it should, but he manages to nonetheless.

Tucked into the bed beside his own is McCree, fast asleep. The cowboy’s face is tight with pain, though perhaps in his dreams it is worry or fear. Hanzo breathes deep. It is good to see that McCree has survived, a miracle that they have both survived through their last mission. From what he can remember, it had not gone well.

McCree makes another pained sound and there is a tug, a pull from the dragons, against the skin of his arm.

This again. Tiredly, he tries to calm them, “He is not in danger, hush.”

They pull anyways, worried. It takes more energy to keep them there against his skin than to allow their thrashing, and Hanzo has precious little energy to spare.

“Fine,” he releases them, “but do not wake him. He must sleep.”

In the gloom, Hanzo watches them curl tentatively into the nooks of McCree’s body, nuzzling anywhere their little snouts can reach. As one of them snuggles into the rough bristles of McCree’s beard, the pinched expression on his face begins to smooth out.

With a deep warmth spreading through his chest, Hanzo lets sleep take him.

  Chapter 6

Hanzo dispatches two more of the talon mercenaries in quick succession, using his momentum to vault to the top of the building. While there are far more talon members than their intel had suggested, the mission so far is going smoothly. Jesse, and now Hanzo, have already reached the objective with little trouble. The rest of their team is not far behind.

Cresting the final set of stairs brings Hanzo in line of sight with Jesse, and time seems to slow around him, his senses sharpening. He breathes in. The scent of smoke sits acrid on his tongue. The sunlight is harsh in his eyes.

Too close. The cowboy is too close to the edge of the building. He watches as though in slow motion, watches as Jesse struggles with a talon agent against the lip of the roof, watches as the ridge they fight against begins to give way, watches as they start to fall.

“Jesse!”

His heart stops within his chest, throat closing around the word.

He breaks into a sprint, calling out to the dragons, their anger singing in tune with his own. There is still a chance he may yet catch Jesse.

But as he reaches the edge, all but prepared to leap, he spots Jesse. The man is not freefalling, but instead has somehow managed to drop into one of the talon helicopters prowling the skies. The helicopter gains height swiftly, pulling up to hover over the roof. Hanzo cannot help the smile tugging at his lips. The talon agents on the roof have yet to realize the danger they are in.

Jesse opens fire, catching the talon agents entirely off guard, clearing the roof in seconds.

The rest of the team arrives as Jesse turns the helicopter, opening fire on the two other talon aircraft still nearby. Hanzo walks back to the stairs as Jesse comes in for a landing. He is…deeply impressed.

Lucio brings the package over, grinning at Jesse in the cockpit.

“Y’all need a ride?” Jesse greets them, the roll of the self-satisfied words around his already-lit cigar sending sparks down Hanzo’s spine. There are far too many of their teammates around them for the embers of arousal to be anything but inappropriate, but Hanzo cannot stop himself from meeting Jesse’s eyes. He knows Jesse can tell where his thoughts have shifted by the stutter in his breath, the clear surprise flitting across his handsome face, and the answering interest darkening his eyes.

If Jesse flies a little fast, Hanzo does not mind. Nor do their teammates question. They have all felt the adrenaline of victory.

If he and Jesse break from their team members at base slightly sooner than etiquette usually requires after such success, none of them question that either.

[fvrxdrm]

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.”

[nitewrighter]

Let the Waters Roar Pt. 3

Ahhh I started this last MerMay and I was missing it!! So here’s some belated Mermay stuff that I didn’t really have the chance to do with all my schoolwork in May!

Previous Chapters: 1, 2

----

McCree stared down at them, his hand still hovering over his pistol, and Mercy suddenly put her hands up in front of herself, “Don’t--!” she blurted out. Genji read her body language and pushed out of the surf and back into the water, with a few beats of his glittering green tail, he dipped below the surface and disappeared. McCree’s pistol hand dropped to his side with the slumping of his shoulders. He stared, dumbfounded at Mercy.

“...I can explain,” said Mercy. She really couldn’t.

“...That was a mermaid,” said McCree.

“Merman,” corrected Mercy before blurting out, “Dolphin! Dolphin! He--I mean, that was a dolphin!” 

“That was not a fucking dolphin,” said McCree, flatly.

“The rare...Galapagos man-faced... man-armed... dolphin?” Mercy stammered out.

McCree’s lips pulled back from his teeth in a semi-snarling expression of confusion and frustration as he itched at the brim of his hat. He wanted to believe the lie, she knew that, or at least pretend he believed it. Maybe not the ‘rare Galapagos man-faced man-armed dolphin’ part, but Genji being little more than a large fish and a trick of the light. She knew it would be easier for both of them if he had pretended he hadn’t seen it at all. But that wasn’t the man Jesse McCree was--not when it came to something that could be a a threat to a fellow crewmate. He slid down the rock face sloping onto the beach, scattering a few pebbles in his descent, and walked down the beach to her. He stopped in front of her, pinched the bridge of his nose, breathed in sharply through his teeth, then put his hands on his hips. “Doc,” he sighed, “I may not be a natural philosopher or what have you, but as a crewmate... show a man a little respect.”

Mercy pursed her lips for a few seconds, and seriously considered denying further before sighing herself. “All right. Fine. He’s a merman,” said Mercy.

“You found a merman and you didn’t tell anyone!?” said McCree.

“You think anyone would have believed me?!” said Mercy.

McCree opened his mouth to retort but closed it. 

“And--and--He’s a person! I can’t present him like he’s some... some creature! He saved my life--”

“He saved your life?!”

“I mean, granted, it was after I nearly drowned from the shock of seeing him but he’s kind and he’s clever and he’s curious and he’s funny and he’s---he’s...”

“He’s... still behind you,” said McCree. 

Mercy whirled on her heel to see Genji barely visible, only his eyes above the surface of the water, his hair acting almost like a seaweed camouflage, peeking at them from behind one of the iguanas’ sunning rocks. 

“Genji!” she blurted out and then McCree flinched with surprise as she suddenly started making noises that seemed midway between dolphin chatter and whale song. Then the merman began making similar noises back at her as he swam out from behind the rock and edged toward the shore slightly.

“What---what the hell is that?” said McCree.

 Mercy suddenly flinched, turned on her heel to face him, “Oh... right... Mer,” she said.

“Mer?”

“Apparently you can speak it if you breathe water and he... puts his mouth on yours?” said Mercy, absentmindedly touching at her lips.

McCree’s face twisted in confusion and he gave a glance to the merman behind her. Genji gave him a small, cheerful wave with a hand that had visible green webbing 

“...yeeeah, that’s not happening,” said McCree.

“Well it was part of the whole, ‘I nearly drowned’ thing so...” Mercy trailed off.

Genji said something to her in Mer and Mercy just laughed a little before saying something back, but her smile faded and she looked at McCree.

“He knows we have to leave, right? He knows about the war?” said McCree.

“Yes...” said Mercy looking back at Genji.

“...and you’re not gonna tell the crew about him,” said McCree, reading her expression.

“Best case scenario, everyone thinks we’re mad, worst case scenario, something terrible happens to him because I can’t protect him,” said Mercy, looking back at Genji and tucking her hair back, “You won’t tell, will you?”

“If we weren’t chasing after that hell-ship, I don’t know how well I could keep the secret, but... like you said, I don’t want people thinkin’ I’ve gone mad either,” said McCree.

They both looked at Genji, who was apparently trying to figure out what they were talking about from their facial expressions alone.

“A ship full of men half-crazed for the touch of wives and lovers... and you go for the fish--oof!” McCree started before Mercy elbowed him hard.

“He wants to learn just as much about us as we--as I want to learn about him,” said Mercy, folding her arms tight across herself. 

Something crossed over McCree’s face then, a flicker of pitying recognition of the loneliness in her. Hell, she had managed to lull him to sleep just by talking about something she obviously cared about... she knew it would put him to sleep. He was a little resentful that she was right, but at the same time, considering how much work she put into it, the acceptance and utilization of the knowledge that he didn’t care as an invariable truth of the world stung. There were a handful of sailors, upper officers, really, that traded around books from the captain’s and her own library, but those were more histories, tales of adventure. He couldn’t really recall anyone on the ship who shared a passion for natural philosophy as intense as hers. And now she made a friend who was equal parts a part of that passion and a sharer of it--a friend that she had to leave.

“I won’t tell, either,” McCree said solemnly.

The way she pressed her lips together and looked back at Genji would have tugged at the heart more if the surreality of the whole situation wasn’t sinking in. The green hair alone was shocking, but the flecks of scales framing his face, accentuating the sharpness of his features, and those sharp features belying even sharper teeth. He was beautiful, but also alien, dangerous. But the expression with which Genji looked at them both had a bizarre innocent brightness about it. McCree wondered if he knew what a gun was--or maybe he just trusted Mercy enough to think she could stop McCree from pulling the trigger. He wouldn’t blame either of them all that much- it wasn’t as if anyone was particularly surprised that Mercy’s ‘scientific expedition’ had ended with her passed out on a beach in her undergarments, and from his own experiences with her bedside manner as the ship’s doctor, he knew she could calm even the most panicked sailor spurting out blood.

“You could speak with him, too--If you don’t want him to put his mouth on yours, I could interpret---” Mercy was saying.

What would I say to it? To him? McCree thought with some bemusement. He could outline some interrogative questions-- ‘Who are you? Who do you serve? Do you have some sort of mer-nation? What are their values? What are their thoughts on the surface? Would they ever harm us?’ But all those questions quickly became overwhelming even in his own head. He didn’t trust himself to ask the right questions... the captain on the other hand... no. They didn’t have time. 

“N-no,” said McCree, “We don’t even... know how that language works.”

“Can... can I have a few minutes with him, then?” said Mercy, “I’ll get back to the ship--I will! I just... I need him to understand...”

“You don’t want to hurt him,” McCree said with a shrug.

Mercy nodded. “And I’ll come back--one way or another, I’ll come back.”

McCree just set his jaw and nodded in turn. “I’ll... give you your space,” he said, “But--in case there’s danger--”

Mercy furrowed her brow.

“It’s not like I’ll understand you with all that dolphin talk anyway!” said McCree, bringing his hands up.

Mercy sighed and turned away from him, walking to where the water sloshed up around her ankles and sitting down, edging her bottom just above the line of the tide in the sand.

“It’s safe,” she called out to Genji in Mer.

His finned ears flared with some alertness, but he swam toward them, slow and cautious, barely leaving a wake, keeping only his eyes above the water. He swam up in the shallows, resting on his elbows in the surf, the waves making him bob slightly as he looked at her. His eyes flicked to McCree.

“Who is that?”

“McCree... I... I didn’t tell him about you. The captain sent him to protect me since... passing out on a beach is generally more concerning for humans.”

“Is he your mate?” Genji asked with a skeptical squint, and Mercy sputtered into a fit of laughs.

“N-no,” Mercy managed.

“Is this ‘Captain’ your mate if he was the one who sent him then?” Genji asked and Mercy snorted at that.

 “No, I don’t have a ‘mate’--It’s just part of being on the same boat, is all... and well, as I’ve said, I’m the ship’s doctor, so it’s very much in their interest to keep me alive. Do Merfolk act like that with their mates?”

 “It depends,” said Genji, “I’ve heard those in the northern sea can be territorial. But...” he paused a bit, “My brother told me stories of kings and queens, some who had many lovers... but they all fell with the old kingdoms. As far as mates we can find now...” he shrugged.

“It’s a bit lonely?” Mercy ventured.

Genji just shrugged again. “Sometimes interesting things happen,” he gestured at her.

Mercy felt her face burning and broke eye contact with him.

“...you said you needed to go... to fight... the old boney?” Genji said after a few seconds.

Mercy looked back at him. “Yes,” she said quietly.

“I could come with you,” he said, as a wave surged up around his shoulders, “I... I’ve wanted to travel for a while.”

Mercy’s lips parted. “It’s too dangerous. I could never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

“But what if something happens to you?!” said Genji, “What if the old boney eats you? I don’t know if there will ever be another human I can talk to like you!”

Mercy visibly winced. “You... you should stay in the waters you know. Where it’s safe. I--I can come back...”

“You didn’t answer my question--what if something happens to you?” said Genji. 

A few seconds passed between them, filled only with the soft rush of the waves. 

“I... don’t know if something will happen to me,” Mercy said at last, “I can only promise you that... I’ll do everything I can to stay safe so I can find you again.”

“Then I’ll promise the same,” said Genji.

Mercy’s eyes softened and a smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. “That means very much to me,” she said, clasping her hands together slightly.

“Hm!” Genji gave a determined nod that prompted a short charmed snort out of her.

Mercy looked down and noticed the length of her own shadow on the wet sand. She gave a glance over her shoulder at McCree, leaning against one of the boulders they would scramble up to head inland. The tide rushed up past and she had to scoot herself a few inches out of the line of foam, still letting it rush around her feet. “Before I go, was.. there anything you wanted to know about the surface?” said Mercy, smiling a bit.

Genji thought for a few seconds. “Yes. How did you make your churdle? ”

“My what?”

Genji pushed himself up from the surf to mime the bow-across-string movements of cello-playing. “I tried making one but it didn’t work.”

“Cello?” said Mercy.

“Yes,” said Genji.

“I didn’t make it. There are many many humans on the surface, you see, and... some of them have very special jobs that they spend their entire lives learning to do. One such human made my chur--my cello.” 

“There must be many humans to have such lives...” Genji mused, glancing off.

“Very many humans,” said Mercy, “Probably as many as those old kingdoms you talk about. Maybe more.”

Genji’s eyes brightened with a burning realization at this. 

“I don’t know if I should have said that,” said Mercy, glancing off, “But... I think you ought to know, I think you’re... I think you’re very clever. And you’re very brave. I don’t know a lot about your world, but I know only very clever and very brave people are willing to step outside of the world they know. But... this world is not kind to brave and beautiful things, Genji. That’s why I can’t permit you to follow our ship... no matter how much I want you there.” 

“I understand,” said Genji, glancing down. Another long pause passed with only the waves filling the silence.

“I said you could tell me about landish things, and I could tell you about the sea,” Genji said at last, “You should ask me a question as well.”

A nervous laugh fell out of Mercy. “God, there’s so many...” she said, looking at her own journal.

“Well, if you don’t ask the right one, you’ll just have to come back some day, won’t you?” said Genji easily.

Mercy huffed and smiled wryly at him before she pressed her lips together for a few seconds in thought. A minute, maybe two, passed in complete silence.

“If you don’t know what you want to ask--” Genji started.

“Do your females nurse young with milk?” Mercy blurted out.

“...what?” said Genji after a few beats.

“Do they--?” Mercy mimed holding a child to her own breast and Genji cocked his head confusedly.

“Maybe... some in the north?” Genji said, scratching his head, “I haven’t really seen enough females with young to know...”

“Oh god--I was nervous--can I get another one?” said Mercy.

“Yes..?” said Genji.

“So do the females of your species lay eggs and then you just-- no wait-- don’t answer that-- I do not want that to be the last question you know of me---” Mercy was pressing her fingertips to both of her temples. 

“...milk and eggs?” Genji’s eyes were squinting confusedly.

Mercy drew a steadying breath. “Sorry I’m just trying to figure out the... the whole ‘fish or mammal’ part, but that’s... that’s probably not the right question.”  She paused for a few seconds. “You keep mentioning the ‘old kingdoms.’ What happened to them?”

“Oh that I can answer! My brother knows more about them than me, though,” Genji’s fin ears flared with excitement, “He said wars ended many of them... including our own.”

“You had a kingdom?” Mercy smiled a little.

“We were called ‘Shimada.’ It fell before I was born,” said Genji, before flopping over onto his back and interlacing his hands behind his head, looking up at the sky,  “Our cities were conquered by an empire that called itself Atalan. They had formed a pact with the sea witches for power and weapons to conquer their enemies. To conquer us. Our people were scattered. Much of our knowledge, our histories, wiped away in the conquest. But it was said that the Atalans did not satisfy their own end of the bargain with the witches, so the ocean floor opened up beneath them, and they fell into the crushing darkness, smoke, and fire.” He said all this dreamily. Not quite reciting, but something that had definitely been told and retold to him as an explanation of a world that, at this point was seeming simultaneously impossibly vast and suffocatingly tiny. Mercy watched his scales glitter with nacre-like iridescence as they shifted in the sunlight with his own breath before forcing herself to break her eyes away and follow his sight to the sky, trying to imagine vast cities at the bottom of the sea, and deep pits of fire and darkness. 

“...a bit like Rome,” murmured Mercy.

“What’s Rome? Is that the land’s Atalan?” asked Genji eagerly.

“Long ago, I suppose. Though I’d say our current Atalan is ‘Old Boney,’” said Mercy, smiling.

Genji’s face dropped. “Has he taken your kingdom?”

“That answer’s a bit complicated,” said Mercy, “In a sense, yes... it has, but... it’s not as though it’s fallen into the abyss. I’ve started sailing with another kingdom to stop France and... hopefully help retake it. ” She sighed. “It’s a beautiful place, my home. Full of high green mountains, capped with snow.”

Genji was fascinated by this description. Green mountains, and snow! Most of the mountains he had seen were the craggy brown peaks of the islands from a distance, or the dark peaks of the undersea canyons far below him. The northern nomads had described snow to him--he understood water being white with foam, white as it moved, but white and still fascinated him. His tail fin tentatively swayed in the water as he imagined these snow-topped green mountains as great towering white-capped green waves, frozen forever.

“...And I’ve thrown my lot in with another kingdom like Atalan to try and get the bloody French out of my home,” Mercy finished with a bitter shrug.

Genji furrowed his brow and shook his head. “No, you are good. You are not Atalan.” 

Mercy smiled. “I think you’re good, too,” she said, tucking her hair back.

Another pause passed between them, the anxiety and hesitation over parting, the desire to stay as long as they could, and the desire to leave and get it over with sloshing in and out like the waves and foam. 

“I’ll find a way back,” Mercy said, half to Genji and half to herself, “I don’t know how, yet, but once--”

There was a shrill whistle and she looked over her shoulder at McCree, who had already climbed up the volcanic rocks framing the beach, “Y’know we still gotta pick up all your surveying junk before we head back to the ship!” McCree shouted, his hands cupped around his mouth.

Mercy huffed and looked at Genji, who had turned on his side, his tail half-curving around her. 

“Don’t get eaten,” said Genji, smiling sadly.

Mercy pressed her lips together and forced a smile as well before pushing herself up to her feet, the tide coming in around her ankles.

“You stay safe, too.”

“Mm,” Genji gave a single nod as Mercy turned, picked up her shoes and stockings and headed to the high rocks framing the beach. Genji watched as she pulled the stockings and boots on, then as McCree scrambled down the rock face to offer a hand to her to help her up. As she reached the highest point of the rock she looked back at Genji, still in the surf. 

Genji watched them for a few seconds, then pushed himself back from the sand and disappeared under a surge of water. Mercy took another breath to compose herself before starting to walk further inland toward the tortoises’ grazing territory. 

“You okay?” said McCree.

“I’ve met someone whose very existence completely upends our concepts of natural philosophy and history, and learning more about him has to fall to the wayside for this stupid war, what do you think?” said Mercy.

McCree sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“I--I know....” Mercy said, glancing down as they walked across the wrinkly black lava fields, both their shadows long.

“Doc... I can’t give my word that I won’t tell, there’s obviously still a lot we don’t know, and if he turns out to be a threat, later...”

“Why would he be a threat?” said Mercy, shocked.

“Goddamn, woman, I know you could see his teeth! You don’t know what he eats--”

“He doesn’t eat people. He said only sea witches eat people,” said Mercy with a startling matter-of-factness.

“Th-there’s sea witches now?? And--and you’re taking him on his word,” said McCree.

“He could have eaten me when I was drowning--large carnivores are opportunistic, they’ll only play with their prey to tire them out and reduce risk of injury, but for the most part, they’re dealing with a low economy of energy themselves, and thus tend to go for strikes that can kill as quickly as possible--at least from what I’ve observed and read of aquatic predators.”

“You put that much thought into how he might eat you and you still went out to the beach.”

“Because I’ve deduced that it’s highly unlikely that he will eat me, yes.”

McCree pondered this for a short while as they walked, before an amused ‘Hmph,’ fell out of him. “Well... I guess all the stories said his kind were dangerous seducers... but then watching him talk to you... he seemed more like a puppy to me,” said McCree.

“He did not--!” Mercy half protested before sighing, “I don’t... think he had many people to talk to,” she said.

“You know you have people to talk to, right?” said McCree. 

“...none like him,” said Mercy.

McCree huffed. “Welp. If there’s anyone in this world crazy enough to find a sharp-toothed dolphin-talking fish-man twice... it’s you, Doc.”

Mercy smiled a little. 

 “And like I said--so long as we’re more like to look like madmen talking about it, I won’t say anything to the other crew members. Or the captain.”

“Thank you,” said Mercy.

“Better get that surveying equipment,” McCree sighed, “Ain’t fair to leave that lizard in that cage--ugly little devil that he is...”

Mercy smiled at McCree. “I’ll make a natural philosopher of you yet, Jesse.”

-----

“You’ve barely eaten.” said Hanzo.

“Eh?” Genji’s fin ears pricked up. It had been several hours since his and Mercy’s parting, and Genji’s mind was miles away. Corsica. France. Rome. Green mountains capped with white in sunlight. More humans than the old kingdoms. More humans than he could possibly imagine. Humans who made singing wood. Maybe humans who made other things that made other sounds that he had never heard and would never hear for how far those sounds were from the sea. Humans fighting great and terrible battles. Angela in those great and terrible battles. He shook himself back to the present. The light was dim--the sun was low and the water cool as he and Hanzo nestled away from the currents in a reef a ways off from the island’s shore. 

“I said you’ve barely eaten. Are you sick?” said Hanzo, “You went near the boat again, didn’t you? You know they dump their filth into the water around it--”

“I didn’t go to the boat,” Genji said distantly. He glanced down at the octopus tentacle in his hand and gnawed off another bite of it, chewing sullenly.

“Sulking won’t convince me to help you capsize it,” said Hanzo, tearing into his own octopus tentacle. 

“Why would I want to--?!” Genji started but Hanzo gave him an odd look, “Well it’s... like you said. It’s too dangerous,” said Genji, glancing off before taking another bite of octopus.

“Glad to see you finally getting some sense,” said Hanzo. 

They both continued tearing into their food in silence for a few minutes. Genji looked out into the blue of the waters beyond. The way the cool gray-brown sand beneath them, in a handful of miles, would drop off completely into craggy undersea canyons and the vast expanse of the pelagic column. She will come back, he thought with some determination, I should be able to answer all her questions when she does.

“Hanzo?” 

“Mm?”

“Could you tell me more about the old kingdoms?”

Hanzo stopped eating and studied Genji’s face for a few seconds. Genji wasn’t looking at him but looking out. Hanzo followed his gaze briefly, wondering what exactly he was looking at. There didn’t seem to be any danger in the distance.

“You never had much interest in them before...” Hanzo started cautiously, his eyes flicking back to Genji.

“Well... if it’s too dangerous to learn about the world above... maybe I should learn more about us,” said Genji, before taking another bite of his octopus.

Hanzo blinked a few times, mildly impressed. “...there’s a ruin in the depths,” he said after a few beats, “It’s Atalan. Not one of ours, but I could take you there--so long as you promise not to do anything stupid.”

“Psh, why would I do something stupid?” said Genji with an eye roll.

Hanzo just gave him a weary look.

“I won’t do anything stupid,” said Genji.