#( widowmaker. got my eye on you cherie )

[loverofvillains]

Shippers gonna ship

I got more SigmaxReader content coming! I swear, cross my heart! But I also have a guilty love for MaxMaker (Maximilien and Widowmaker), thanks to a wonderful artist named Dashiana and her amazing art (Really, her MaxMaker art made me fall in love with the pairing!) This was a one-shot that I hope is worthy of some love here on Tumblr! And this one is SFW! More fluff than anything! Also, this pairing...I dove down rabbit holes...to the point of even recounting events Amelie would have gone through, how her psyche changed from the initial conditioning, and further after killing Gerard, and the little clues she may be breaking the conditioning as of late. There are plans for a full fledged fanfiction I may make for them and post to Wattpad sometime, if anyone is interested!  The main idea is her conditioning is breaking, and she has kept it quiet for a while, not wanting to be re-conditioned. But Maximilien can tell, and has had her on some business trips with him, and over time, has become quite fond of her, to the point he neglects to alert Moira about Amelie’s deteriorating conditioning. To the point he knows he feels something for her, especially when she begins to warm up to him. 

                                                  French Nights                                             

Storm clouds rolled across the French skies and thunder rumbled and boomed over the towns and cities. It was a perfect night to spend at home...and Maximilien could not think of any other way to spend it. He'd wrapped his evening up at his casino and headed home, where he had a 'guest' residing for the week. It had been quite the day for them both, and both desired the need to rest and relax. 

Her blue form was curled up to his side as he laid propped up, reading over his tablet. His arm laid around her, cradling her there to his side, his glowing, red eyes soaking in the information displayed on the tablet. Something distracted him from the glowing screen before him. Sensors in his hand felt the woman shivering against him despite the many covers they were under. He looked down, seeing her dark brows twitching. A nightmare...ironic it is a tattoo on her arm, he thought to himself. These nightmares, he was getting used to her calling out his name...but this time, it was different.  "Max..." she uttered softly. Fingers closed in on the shirt he was wearing. Maximilien blinked, his hand rubbing her back gently. "Don't..." " Ma petite chérie," he murmured, giving her a gentle shake. "Wake up...you're having a nightmare." Amelie woke with a start, freezing as her golden eyes snapped open. The heart was beating against her ribs painfully. Only fragments of the nightmare remained in her memory, and each detail was slipping away. All she knew was it was frightening to her. Golden eyes focused on him and his relaxed demeanor. She averted her gaze, closing her eyes as she laid back down with her head on his chest.  " Forgive me...I must drive you absolutely insane with the nightmares as of late," she said.  "It is perfectly fine. I'm not bothered by it at all," he said, pressing a button on the tablet. The screen's lighting went out as it was set on the nightstand. " Are you okay?" Amelie gave a silent nod against his chest, her arm draping over his middle. "I shall be fine long as I am here." Maximilien carefully let his fingers slip through her long locks of dark hair, the sensors in his hand feeling the silk-like quality of it. How soft it was, how heavy it was...and it always had a scent of flowers. "Did I...say anything embarrassing?" she asked, afraid to look at him. Maximilien thought about lying and saying no, that she said nothing. Part of him wanted to keep that moment to himself. For her to call his name out meant their bond was closer...that she truly thought of him. He also wondered if it would scare Amelie off, making her realize her emotions for him and making her think she was wrong for it. " I believe...you said something about wanting eggs with toast and grapfruit in the morning," he jested, wanting her to smile and forget about the nightmare. A faint smile did come to those soft lips when he said that. "Stop teasing, Max..." she said, having found her comfortable spot against him, lying there warm and for once in her life, feeling safe.  Max looked to the wall a moment as his hand continued to idly play with her hair.  " You...did say something," he admitted. "What?" she asked, her eyes opening now to gaze at the closed balcony doors. "...My name," he said, finding he couldn't lie or hide anything from her. As much as his better judgement told him he ought to, it was becoming impossible. Amelie said nothing when he said that. Fragments of the nightmare came back, and all she could remember was being distressed and frantic. "You said...Max. Don't..." he added, and looked to her. "What...was it you did not wish me to do?" That word brought a few details back. Some building, some nameless hallway. Her begging him to not leave and go somewhere, fearing for his well being. Him assuring her he would be fine...and some knowing instinct in her shouting he would not be. No wonder it was a nightmare. "...I...didn't wish you to leave somewhere. I..." she started but the words got stuck in her throat. Even though she was feeling emotions again, vocalizing them, and showing them was still a challenge. Lips closed as she furrowed her brows, and closed her eyes, burying her face against the clothed, metal chest. "...It's okay," he said softly, and pulled her close, his head resting atop of hers. Context clues led Max to believe he knew those next words. That she didn't want him to leave her alone. "I'm here." "You looked busy...forgive me for disturbing you," she murmured, letting him comfort her as she laid with him. " Simple business transaction. The owner is not being very cooperative at the moment, but...I'm sure my next method of 'intense negotiations' will change his mind," he said lying down fully and holding her.  " Did you need to get back to it?" she asked. "No...I can finish the orders I need in the morning. My concern and priority now is you, cherie. I want you to get back to sleep, and get your rest. I'm right here if you need me," he said and held her close, his other hand rubbing her back. Amelie managed a weak smile against his chest, her heart steadying as he held her. It never failed that when she woke, he was right there. It didn't matter if he had business to attend to. He always made sure to wait for her, or wake her if it was urgent to say his good byes. He could be shady and rather devious as a Talon leader, but he was quite the gentleman outside of it.

[formerlyrunephoenix6769]

Goal!

Summary.

Domestic Widowtracer. Lena gets a delightful surprise when Amelie watches the World Cup.

--x--

Lena sat crossed legged on the sofa, cosy in her pj bottom’s and England jersey as she slurped on her noodles, watching in fascination as Amelie yelled in French at the TV. Lena thinks Amelie is swearing now, having been on the receiving end of similar sounding words many times. Who knew that the refined French woman would become so unravelled over 22 grown ass men chasing a ball?

One of the players dived to the ground putting on a performance that an academy award winning actress would be proud of!

“Get up!” Amelie screamed, as she ran her hands through her hair, causing her usually pristine pony tail to become slightly askew. For a brief moment, Lena was convinced she could see a flush come to her partner’s cyan skin.

So this is what got the former sniper’s dander up?

One of the opposing team’s players tripped up a French striker in a way that even the former Overwatch operative was willing to agree was a wanker move. Widow jumped off the sofa screaming,

“Come on Ref!!!! Are you blind???”

Lena stopped mid chew, noodles dangling out of her mouth, chop sticks paused in mid air as Widow turned, a slightly terrifying look on her face, demanding,

“Lena, did you see that?”

Lena nodded wide eyed, not willing to admit that she had given up on following the match a good while ago having found something else far more entertaining.

“Gaaaa! Sacre bleu.”

Throwing her hands up in frustration and her pony tail bobbing, Amelie stalked from the sitting room disappearing into the depths of the apartment.

Lena returned to stirring her noodles with her chop sticks, brown eyes glued to the tv screen as the ball continued being passed back and forth. Minutes passed before suddenly a French striker, taking advantage of a Croatian mistake, broke through the opposing defence to sweetly chip the ball into the top left corner of the net. The roar of celebration in the stadium filled the sitting room.

Suspicious of Widow’s sudden quiet, Lena called out,

“Babe?”

Curiosity getting the better of her she placed her noodle bowl on the coffee table before padding barefoot through the apartment. “Babe?” she called out a little louder noticing their bedroom door slightly ajar, soft light spilling into the hallway. Peering through the door the former pilot stated,

“Babe, you just missed a goal.”

Widow was hunched over, seemingly in a world of her own, typing furiously on a light screen the back light casting her features in an eerie glow.

“Luv,” Lena asked with piqued curiosity, “Whatcha doing?”

She entered the room peering over Widow’s shoulder quickly reading the screen before in one swift move she slammed off the lightpad, exclaiming, “You can’t assassinate the referee!”

Widow’s eyes narrowed as she huffed,

“I can’t see why not! He is an idiote!”

Lena grabbed the lightpad dock holding it behind her back,

“Nope! You can’t just off some geezer willy nilly cause you don’t like their call.” Attempting to mock scald her, Lena added, “Besides I thought we said no more killing?”

Amelie pouted, “Not even a little bit?”

Lena grinned, it was a rare sight to see French woman pouting as it was usually the English girl’s tactic. God, is this what Amelie had to deal with every time the pilot gave her the puppy dog eyes when wanting to get her own way?

Widow suddenly towered over her attempting to reach round for the lightpad dock as she coaxed,

“Just let me find out where his lives.”

Lena backed up slowly, her shortness putting her at a slight disadvantage as Widow advanced, devilment in her yellow eyes grinning that wolfish grin that made Lena weak at the knees. She retreated untill her back came dead against the wall as Widow continued to stalk towards her. Still attempting to keep the last vestiges of her dignity, the British woman defiantly raised her head as Amelie leaned over her, pressing closer and cutting off any chances of escape.

Lena tried not to gulp and remained resolute as Widow’s other hand attempted to reach behind the smaller woman and craftily sneak the lighpad dock from her grasp. Plump, moist lips hovered dangerously close to Lena’s ear,

“Will you not let me play cherie?”

The hot air ghosting her earlobe, that raspy voice, caused Lena’s skin to goose bump and prickle with static. Lena squeezed her eyes shut mutely shaking her head.

“Not even a little bit?” Came the seductive growl.

Lena caught her own bottom lip between her teeth as she slightly turned her head only to find Widow’s blown yellow eyes watching her in predatory amusement. Lena’s own raked down over Amelie’s fine features finally alighting on those enticing full lips.

She could have some resolve, god damnit!

It was as if Widow could sense her weakening as she pressed her body further into the smaller woman.

“Come now my pet, don’t be foolish.”

Lena nuzzled Amelie with her nose, those alluring lips just millimetres from her own. If she didn’t do something now she was a goner. Quickly she caught Widow’s lips in a kiss, feeling how the french woman grinned into it. Just as she felt Amelie beginning to relax Lena pulled away, impishly bopping her on the nose with her fingertip,

“Nope pop!”

In the split second as Widow’s features gave way to baffled disbelief and confusion, Lena wriggled out of her position before speeding through the apartment waving the lightpad dock over her head, only to have Widowmaker hot on her tail tackling her into the sofa with an Oof, causing Lena to collapse into giggles as Amelie poked her in the ribs.

“No fair!” Lena squealed in delight.

“All is fair in love and war my cherie!” Amelie triumphantly declared, as straddling her, she wrestled the lightscreen dock from the Londoner’s grasp.

Two could play that game, Lena thought as she gripped the front of Amelie’s jersey pulling her in for a searing kiss, the lightscreen long forgotten as hands dipped below the hem of grey yoga pants only to grasp firm ass cheeks. Amelie’s eyebrows shot up and her eyes narrowed playfully, smirking down at the younger woman.

“Ah, this is how it is going to be is it?”

“All is fair in love and war!” The mussy haired pilot cheekily repeated.

Amelie laughed, it was light and breezy, a sound Lena would never stop trying to illicit.

“You win!”

“You surrender?”

“Oui!”

Lena couldnt help herself,

“Just like the French,eh? Always giving up!”

Amelie wrinkled her nose in a mock scowl,

“Right, you’re in for it!” She announced, as once again she began tickling her tormentor with earnest.

Lena let out a delighted shriek, laughing and wriggling beneath her captor before exchanging soft fluttery kisses that quickly devolved into to long and languid ones. Somewhere the Croatian crowd booed in dismay and Lena didn’t notice as one slender hand reached out activating the lightscreen and began quickly tapping away. She certainly didnt notice as later, slick with sweat, her own screams and curses coming quicker and louder, loud enough to drown out the forgotten match, a digtialised sugar skull appeared followed by an address somewhere in Moscow.

Collapsing bonlessly against the sofa, Lena snuggled closer to Amelie, sleepy eyes half lidded, she smiled that lazy smile as a French striker scored the winning goal and Amelie continued to card her fingers through her messy hair, caressing her scalp in the way that Lena liked.

“Lookit that luv, your lot won!”

Lena’s smile widened as Amelie drew her closer, lips ghosting her forehead.

“Oui, I most certainly did

(all ow fanfiction tagged under formerlyrunephoenix6769 ow fanfiction,  feel free to comment/ like/ share.. written for @call-signtracer )

[inkbun]

Hey! Love your work so far. Mind doing a Widowmaker x fem!/gender neutral!reader? Thanks!

Took me a million years to get this done—sorry! Hope you’re down for some Christmas-in-July angst because that’s where my playlist + mind went for this one. Enjoy! 🎁

Sidenote: I’ve had this on loop for the past three days. Not taking responsibility for the angst that shows up in any upcoming fics. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Widowmaker

Words: 1,318

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

It was snowing for the third time in three weeks. Winter in Zurich was never easy, everything draped in slate grey and white. The Limmat River looked like churning cement, mountains like a barricade against the little sunlight that escaped the clouds. 

Amelie was at the window again. 

You knew this not because you saw her, but because of the lack of weight next to you in bed.  Shoving away the subsequent worry, you swung out of bed and padded to the kitchen. 

Her apartment wasn’t decked out for Christmas. With Amelie, it never truly could be. But you did your best—tasteful garlands on the mantel in your living room, gold bells and mistletoe above the doors. She even tolerated the tacky gel snowflakes you pasted on the windows. 

But there was no tree, no wealth of lights—no warmth. 

Of course, you understood. Brainwashed by Talon, she’d murdered her husband, Gerard, in his sleep just two days before the holiday. She confessed this four months after you started dating, brow knitted in the closest thing you’d seen to worry on her face.

“In case you do not wish to be with un meutrier.”

You took a week alone after that, conferring with your closest friends. 

Satya told you she wasn’t to be trusted, had interfered with too many Vishkar initiatives to be innocent; Olivia said she was “cold, not dangerous,” detailing the countless pranks she’d played on Amelie with little but a scowl or smashed translocator as retaliation. 

Angela helped clinch your decision to move forward. 

“Talon did horrible things to her,_______. I’ve seen firsthand what their ‘geneticist’ can do. If her conditioning included even an ounce of that horror, Amelie was not to blame. She’s trusted you enough to tell you this. Don’t you turn your back on her too.”

So you came to her with a box of chocolates and an expensive vintage, happy to rehabilitate the scarred assassin if she promised to try.

She did. Amelie was aloof at first, content to walk in silence beside you. You knew little of what you meant to her, and less whether she even liked you.

The rest of Overwatch talked: “_______ is dating Widowmaker? I thought they had more sense than that…” “Don’t they know that’s how her last lover died—trusting her?”

You didn’t let it bother you, striving every day to see some inkling of the woman who peeked through in warm glances or hidden chuckles.  Eventually, she progressed to holding your hand or lounging her legs across yours on the couch.

A month later, you had your first kiss. Delicate, swift, enthralling, it felt like a snowflake against your lips. She shied away, peeking at you from beneath her lashes.

“Merci, mon chou.”

Your heart ached at the sight of her: physique like something out of a magazine, button nose scrunched in a genuine smile, faint violet blush dusting her cheeks. Reaching out, you took her hand in yours. Amelie’s gaze snapped up to yours in surprise, but she didn’t pull away.  

Boldened, you crawled into her lap, your eyes trained on her gold uncertain ones. Careful not to flinch at the shock of her cool skin on yours, you freed her ponytail. Running your hand through her thick, ink-blue locks, you kissed her again, not letting up until she was breathless.

Panting, she pled: “Stay with me?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Nearly a year passed since then. You’d halfway moved in, porting your daily essentials to her offsite apartment in a plastic crate. Though slightly inconvenient, you split your time between the Overwatch base and her place, glad to keep those halves of your life separate.

Still, it was mornings like this you missed the readily-accessible coffee. Shivering through a quick brew, you threw on a sweater and headed for the den. Careful not to startle her, you padded through the brick room toward the wide-spanning windows. 

“Did I wake you, cherie?” she asked, not turning around. Despite the chill, she wore a black tank and matching yoga pants.

“The light did,” you answered, setting your cup down to get her a blanket. Draping it over her shoulders, you held out the mug of coffee. “Are you hungry?”

She accepted it, face still quirked away. You had a good idea of why. Amelie wrapped the blanket tighter around her and sipped from the cup. Despite her best attempt to hide it, you heard the subsequent sniff. 

“Non.“ 

“Won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

Another sniff, then a quick glimpse of her bloodshot eyes. 

“You already know,_______. It’s nearly time again.” You were quiet, knew when to let her talk it through. Amelie was already far too quiet—you wouldn’t quash what little chatter she shared. 

“What’s worse is I can hardly remember what he sounded like, smelled like, felt like,_______. Gerard is gone because of me and I cannot even maintain his memory!“ 

Her hands shook, broken sob wrenching her chest. You took the cup from her, gathered her in your arms as she crumpled into the crook of your neck. 

"I’ve lost him, I’ve lost him…” she mumbled, wetting your skin with tears.

You refused to let yourself cry, heart breaking for her. You’d lost lovers too—some to simple breakups or base reassignments, a few to missions gone awry. 

That paled to the mental havoc killing one of them would wreak.

True, you knew little of Gerard Lacroix besides his impeccable suits and haughty French air. But he’d been kind to Amelie and was a damn good agent before Talon got him.

“He’s still there, Amelie. I see him in you everyday—the cut roses you keep on the table each week, the fig creme pastries you said he loved.”

Pulling back, you swiped the cold tears from her cheeks. “Hell, you even put carnations in your blazer breast pocket like he did. You’ll never forget him—I’d never want you to—but you’re healing, my love. It’s natural.”

“But Christmas, _________. I almost wanted to…celebrate. What right do I have after what I did to him?” she whispered, words wobbling.

“Talon did that, Amelie." 

You pressed her trembling fingers to your lips, letting your breath warm her fingertips.  

"You owe it to Gerard to live joyfully, show him you didn’t let those bastards win. That doesn’t mean downing eggnog and dressing up in a Santa suit, but you can take baby steps. I’ll help you.”

Amelie seemed to understand, her sobs cut down to little sniffles.  

She nodded, teary smile on her face. "What did you have in mind, mon chou?”

You looked out at the snowflakes, then at the Overwatch Christmas party invitation on your bulletin board. The woman before you was broken—no, shattered by the suffering Talon thrust upon her.

Still, you loved her wholeheartedly, were willing to do any and everything to protect her from the hateful, ignorant words people hurled at her.

“Why don’t we buy a bouquet, visit Gerard, and go to the party on base later?”

Her face was blank, and you stammered out the rest, not wanting to undo all the progress you’d made.

“We won’t stay too long and I can wait in the car if you don’t want me at the actual plot, but I figured—”

She waved the words away, pulling you into a deep, lingering kiss. You reveled at the feeling of her, taken aback by the warm golden eyes that gazed at you. Perhaps she’d never be able to say “I love you” outright after what happened to Gerard.

But the look on her face was loud enough. 

“Thank you, that sounds…wonderful, ________. But I have une mise en garde.”

“And what would that be?”

“We get to steal Colomar’s tech and hide it around the armory.”

You laughed, already heading for the bedroom to get dressed. Amelie’s footsteps weren’t far behind. 

“Done.”

[runephoenix6769]

Goal..

. Domestic Widowtracer fic, I wrote last night to @call-signtracer

On the back of the World Cup

 “Goal!”

Lena sat crossed legged on the sofa, cosy in her pj bottom’s and England jersey as she slurped on her noodles, watching in fascination as Amelie yelled in French at the tv.  Lena thinks Amelie is swearing now, having been on the receiving end of similar sounding words many times.  Who knew that the refined French woman would become so unravelled over 22 grown ass men chasing a ball?

One of the players dived to the ground putting on a performance that an academy award winning actress would be proud of!

“Get up!” Amelie screamed, as she ran her hands through her hair, causing her usually pristine pony tail to become slightly askew. For a brief moment, Lena was convinced she could see a flush come to her partner’s cyan skin. 

So this is what got the former sniper’s dander up? 

One of the opposing team’s players tripped up a French striker that even the former Overwatch operative was willing to agree was a wanker move.Widow jumped off the sofa screaming, 

“Come on Ref!!!! Are you blind???” 

Lena stopped mid chew, noodles dangling out of her mouth, chop sticks paused in mid air as Widow turned, a slightly terrifying look on her face, demanding, 

“Lena, did you see that?”

Lena nodded wide eyed, not willing to admit that she had given up on following the match a good while ago having found something else far more entertaining.

  “Gaaaa! Sacre bleu.” Throwing her hands up in frustration as, clad in grey yoga pants and a French football jersey and her pony tail bobbing, Amelie stalked from the sitting room disappearing into the depths of the apartment.

Lena returned to stirring her noodles with her chop sticks, brown eyes glued to the tv screen as the ball continued being passed back and forth. Minutes passed before  suddenly a French striker, taking advantage of a Croatian mistake, broke through the opposing defence to sweetly chip the ball into the top left corner of the net. The roar of celebration in the stadium filled the sitting room. 

Suspicious of Widow’s sudden quiet, Lena called out,

“Babe?”

Curiosity getting the better of her she placed her noodle bowl on the coffee table before padding barefoot through the apartment. “Babe?” she called out a little louder noticing their bedroom door slightly ajar, soft light spilling into the hallway. Peering through the door the former pilot stated,

 “Babe, you just missed a goal.”

Widow was hunched over, seemingly in a world of her own, typing furiously on a light screen  the back light casting her features in an eerie glow. 

“Luv,” Lena asked with piqued curiosity, “Whatcha doing?”

She entered the room peering over Widow’s shoulder quickly reading the screen before in one swift move she slammed off the lightpad, exclaiming, “You cant assassinate the referee!”

Widow’s eyes narrowed as she huffed, 

“I cant see why not! He is an idiote!”

Lena grabbed the lightpad dock holding it behind her back, 

“Nope! You cant just off some geezer willy nilly cause you don’t like their call.” Attempting to mock scald her, Lena added, “Besides I thought we said no more killing?”

Amelie pouted, “Not even a little bit?”

Lena grinned, it was a rare sight to see french woman pouting, it was usually the English girl’s tactic. God, is this what Amelie had to deal with every time the pilot gave her the puppy dog eyes when wanting to get her own way?

Widow suddenly towered over her attempting to reach round for the lightpad dock as she coaxed,

“Just let me find out where his lives.”

Lena backed up slowly, her shortness putting her at a slight disadvantage as Widow advanced, devilment in her yellow eyes grinning that wolfish grin that made Lena weak at the knees. She retreated untill her back came dead against the wall as Widow continued to stalk towards her. Still attempting to keep the last vestiges of her dignity, the British woman defiantly raised her head as Amelie leaned over her, pressing closer and cutting off any chances of escape.

Lena tried not to gulp and remained resolute as Widow’s other hand attempted to reach behind the smaller woman and craftily sneak the lighpad dock from her grasp. Plump, moist lips hovered dangerously close to Lena’s ear,  

“Will you not let me play cherie?”

The hot air ghosting her earlobe, that raspy voice, caused Lena’s skin to goosebump and prickle with static. Lena squeezed her eyes shut mutely shaking her head. 

“Not even a little bit?” Came the seductive growl.

Lena caught her own bottom lip between her teeth as she slightly turned her head only to find Widow’s blown yellow eyes watching her in predatory amusement. Lena’s own raked down over Amelie’s fine features finally alighting on those enticing full lips. 

She could have some resolve, god damnit!

It was as if Widow could sense her weakening as she pressed her body further into the smaller woman.

“Come now my pet, don’t be foolish.”

Lena nuzzled Amelie with her nose, those alluring lips just millimeteres from her own. If she didnt do something now she was a goner.

Quickly she caught Widow’s lips in a kiss, feeling how the french woman grinned into it. Just as she felt Amelie beginning to relax Lena pulled away, impishly bopping her on the nose with her fingertip, 

“Nope pop!” 

In the split second as Widow’s features gave way to baffled disbelief and confusion, Lena wriggled out of her position before speeding through the apartment waving the lightpad dock over her head, only to have Widowmaker hot on her tail tackling her into the sofa with an Oof, causing Lena to collapse into giggles as Amelie poked her in the ribs. 

“No fair!” Lena squealed in delight.

“All is fair in love and war my cherie!” Amelie triumphantly declared, as straddling her, she wrestled the lightscreen dock from the Londoner’s grasp.

Two could play that game, Lena thought as she gripped the front of Amelie’s jersey pulling her in for a searing kiss,the lightscreen long forgotten as hands dipped below the hem of grey yoga pants only to grasp firm ass cheeks. Amelie’s eyebrows shot up and her eyes narrowed playfully, smirking down at the younger woman. 

“Ah, it is like that , is it?”

 “All is fair in love and war!” The mussy haired pilot cheekily repeated.

Amelie laughed, it was light and breezy, a sound Lena would never stop trying to illicit. 

“You win!”

“You surrender?”

“Oui!”

Lena couldnt help herself, 

“Just like the French,eh? Always giving up!”

Amelie wrinkled her nose in a mock scowl, 

“Right, you’re in for it!” She announced, as once again she began tickling her tormentor with ernest. Lena let out a delighted shriek, laughing and wriggling beneath her captor before exchanging soft fluttery kisses that quickly devolved into to long and languid ones. Somewhere the Croatian crowd booed in dismay and Lena didnt notic as one slender hand reached out activating the lightscreen and began quickly tapping away. 

She certainly didnt notice as later, slick with sweat, her own screams and curses coming quicker and louder, loud enough to drown out the forgotten match, a digtialised sugar skull appeared followed by an address somewhere in Moscow.

Collapsing bonlessly against the sofa, Lena snuggled closer to Amelie, sleepy eyes half lidded, she smiled that lazy smile as a French striker scored the winning goal and Amelie continued to card her fingers through her messy hair, stroking her scalp in the way that Lena liked.

“Lookit that luv, your lot won!”

Lena’s smile widened as Amelie drew her closer, lips ghosting her forehead. 

“Oui, I most certainly did.”

@robohero here’s what i was on about, if youre interested :)

[mrsbadgers]

Overwatch Fanfiction  Widowmaker x Sombra 18+

          You Must Learn Your Place 

Written by: Hungrycollegekidd (MariaBadger)

The patter of rain could be heard over the Paris rooftops paired with the ever so gentle sound of heels clicking across the cobble stones below. A lonely traveler made her way towards an ordinary bricked building. Light raindrops ordained her black petticoat escaping the umbrellas protective covering. As she approached the large red door, she pulled off one laced glove to reveal a pale, almost purple colored hand with long, polished nails. Taking little time to unlock the door, she closed the umbrella and hung up her coat to dry. A gentle hum emanated from a couple doors down. As she passed, she peered in and saw her colleague's face pressed down on the keyboard. A half drank bottle of tequila sat next to her hand which still clutched the computer mouse. Thinking nothing of it, Widow continued to walk through the small home, and entered her own room. There, on her bed, she found a tan manila envelope with a single white rose that was purposefully placed  on top. She sat down on the bed and inspected the contents of the envelope. A picture, a location and a time. Her next target. Widow dropped the contents onto the floor and turned her interest towards the rose, shining brightly under the neon lights of the street signs illuminating through the window. Her pale fingers gripped this delicate flower. Closing her eyes, she breathed in its sweet sent. Nostalgia of better times. ------------------------ Widow was awoken by yelling outside her door. So, she got up, slipped on her slippers, silk robe and opened the door only to hear Sombra and Reaper arguing. "Where the hell did you put it!" Sombra yelled in a hungover induced stupor. 

"What are you talking about!" The grizzled voice of Reaper spat back.

"My translocator!" 

"WHY THE HELL WOULD I HAVE THAT  THING!" 

Widow clears her throat. They immediately stop and turn their heads as Widow enters the kitchen. Giving them no mind, she fills the coffee machine and lets it begin to brew. Grabbing a mug, she turns around to face them, leaning against the kitchenette. "Please continue, its not like I can go back to sleep now." The annoyance in her voice was very apparent to the others.

"Amelie, Im sorry if we woke you up but Gabe swiped my trans-locator and is doing God only knows what with it!" Sombra points a finger inches from his face, which he forcefully swats away. 

"What use do I have for some teleportation piece of junk?" Reaper hisses back.

Before either of them could say another word, Widow casually walks into Sombra's room and fishes the small metal contraption out from the bottom of her waste basket. Dropping it onto the kitchen table, Widow gives them both a shady look and yawns.

Sombra sprung up, grabbing the slightly soda stained, teleporter. "Oh! Thank you Amelie. I don’t know what i would do without you!" Widow slightly smiles and proceeds to fill up her mug with the coveted energy brew. 

"SOMBRA!" Reaper growled.

"Yes Gabe?"

"You owe me an apology don’t you think?"

"Awww poor Gabe, i so so so sorry." She chuckles in the most sarcastic manner. Reaper growls and stomps off towards the basement.

Sipping on her coffee, Widow says to Sombra; "Remember, we have a mission tonight. Transport arrives at 8pm sharp, so try not to get too drunk. After all, it is an important  contract. We cant let this target escape." Sombra sits barely paying attention, smudging off the stains on the translocator with her sleeve. 

"Do you understand, Sombra?!" Her tone much harsher now. 

"Si Si. I get it chicka. Ill see you then." She stands up and walks back into her bedroom. Not even a minute later, Widow hears the unmistakable pop of the tequila cork. She sighs but continues to sip her coffee in piece. ---------------------------------------------- The gentle hum of the Talon Stealth Jet lifts Sombra and Widow into the night sky, darting towards the marked destination. Widow glances over and Sombra. Her disheveled appearance and glazed over eyes worry her. As long as Sombra does what she is instructed then Widow can do the rest. Over their intercoms, the pilot warns them that they are 5 minutes to the drop point. Sombra stands, clutching her trans-locator as widow prepares her grappling hook. The drop doors open and both agents fall to the designated points. 

"Sombra" Widow whispers into her ear piece "Tell me when the Omnic guards are disengaged. 

Drunkingly she replies "Si, no problem boss." Widow sighs and hops onto a ventilation pipe placed on the roof across from the target for a better vantage point. Widow sees the mafia boss, exiting his vehicle, surrounded by onmic body guards. Nervously they look around, clutching their machine guns. But Widow is submerged in shadows, safe from sight.

"Sombra, target is in my sight." 

"3...2...1... Iniciando el hackeo." 

The lights dim and the guard bots fall limp. Immediately, panic ensues. Widow presses her trigger but before the bullet can come out, Sombra's trans-locator sputters across the roof top and Sombra appears. Unbalanced from the shift, she falls over, bumping widow. Widow desperately takes the shot but misses as she is pushed over, onto the roof. 

"MERDE!" She cusses loudly. Almost immediately she gets up and pistol whips Sombra with the butt of her rifle. 

"You foolish, drunken girl! Look what you have done!" The sound of the guards rebooting followed by a stream of shots ricocheting around them could be heard.  

"Amelie I'm s---" 

"Shut up, we have to go. NOW!" Widow wraps Sombra and herself in the zip-line and they flee towards evac.

---------------------------------------------------   As soon as they entered the house, Sombra jokingly comments; "Too bad he got away huh? Oh well, don’t worry. The boss isn't gonna care as much as you think!" She chuckles

"You think this is a joke? I told you to not drink before this mission. Didn't I?"

"Sure, but-"

"No buts. You ruined the mission and now my neck is on the line! Why is it that you never take your work seriously?" Widow breaths heavily, enraged at yet another failure on account of this stupid girl. "I don’t care what other ideas are on your agenda but while you are under Talon's roof, you do as told. This is not a game!"

"I know its not a game, Amelie, I did what i was told but accidents always happen!" Sombra rolls her eyes and turns, walking in the direction of her room.  

"What will it take to straighten you up? What do I have to do to break the importance of our cause into that immature, augmented brain of yours?" But her words went unheard. Ignoring Widow, Sombra ducks into her room muttering something in Spanish under her breath. Widow closes her eyes and lets the anger pass. What little emotions she has left should not be invested into this girl. --------------------------------------------------- About an hour passes by and Widow stands from her desk. She makes her way over to Sombra's room where Sombra sits in a chair, feet propped up on her bed. She holds a glass in her left hand and is singing along to some Spanish music. Widow leans on the door frame and knocks on the wall. Sombra takes another sip and invites her in.

"Que pasa, mi amiga?" She cheerfully asks. 

"I want to talk." Widow closes the door and takes a seat on the bed next to where Sombra's feet are resting.  "I am not angry with you cheri, just-"

"Let me guess" Sombra cuts her off " your just disappointed?" Widow sighs and places a cold hand onto Sombras right leg. Sombra pays no mind and continues to hum to the tune. 

"No, I am worried about your drinking. Why do you do it so much?" 

Sombra scoffs.  "What do you want me to say? Hi, my name is Sombra and I’m an alcoholic!  I mean, what else should i do when I apparently cant get anything right? Widow glares. "Ok, how about this” she continues “I'm only here because Talon is a perfect means of finally exposing the Iris and Lumerico's corruption.So until I can hack into that information, I pass my time drinking. It helps me think, you know?" Sombra goes for another sip but before she can, Widow takes away the glass and puts it on the night stand. 

With a stern voice she says "All I hear are excuses and lack of self discipline. I know how much potential you have, Sombra. You are one of the smartest women I know. At this, Sombra looks up and scoffs. She waves her hand, dismissing Widow's compliment and turns the chair to face away from her. Widow proceeds to get up and places her hands on the arms of the office chair, face inches away from hers. "Unlike Gabriel, Moira or myself, you can still control where your life will go."

"Blah, blah, blah. Ok Amelie. You should totally become a social worker with these ‘words of wisdom’.” Just so you know, I’m not the same pathetic orphan on the streets anymore." Sombra is visibly annoyed at what Widow thinks of her. However, she plays it off as usual.

Widow stands up, giving Sombra space. "I know that. To be truthful, cheri, I could care less what happens to you. But as my partner, I want to make sure you don’t get yourself into something you can’t talk your way out of. You're a valuable asset to Talon."

Slightly hurt by this, Sombra responds; "An asset? But a partner to you? Make up your mind before you make a speech about my potential. Lying is a bad habit you know. And to think i thought of you as my amiga." Widow says nothing, just crosses her arms and continues to stare at Sombra. 

"What?" Sombra barks, breaking the awkward silence.

Widow breaths in deeply, bends over and places her cold hand on Sombras cheek, pulling her face near hers. "I think you need to be disciplined, made to listen."  

Shocked at this statement, Sombra replies "Oh is that so, then i dare you."

Intrigued, Widow places her lips teasing close to Sombra's and whispers "Don’t think I can’t discipline you in other ways than just physical pain my dear." Window backs away with a wicked grin. She grabs the glass from the nightstand and walks towards the door, downing the remaining liqour, dropping it to the floor with a clatter. 

Sombra is curiously aroused, wondering what the next night will bring. "Oh this will be interesting indead, no?" ------------------------------------------

The next day: 

Sombra, wih a slight liqour induced buzz, sits in position at the mainframe computer of an overwatch base. She quietly giggles how no one had noticed her breach. Typing away, Reapers voice comes through her ear piece. 

"How much longer Sombra? Jack and the monkey are coming."

"1.43 minutes remaining. Data downloading and virus initializing as we speak. Try not to make a scene, but do not let them in Gabe."

"Sombra, stop calling me Gabe."

"Yah ok. Whatever, Gabe." Reaper growls and logs off. Sombra begins to hear gun shots outside, Reapers shotgun blasts ripping through Winston's defenses. Soldier 76 shouts some muffled command. Winston rawrs and attacks. 

"Just 5 seconds more" Sombra whispers to herself. Suddenly the doors to the control room burst open. Sombra quickly grabs the USB drive and trans-locates before Winston can grab her. "Adios!" 

Reaper and Sombra meet inside evac.

"You got the data?" Repear growls while clutching the bleeding in his side.

"Si senior! and to think I expected a challenge, heh."

-------------------------------------------------------- Sitting in her room Sombra swigs from a bottle of tequila. She tosses the USB in air, catching it like a ball. She revels in the thought of how skilled she really is. 

"Great work today, Sombra." Widows voice cuts through her concentration.  

"Oh SURE come on in without knocking. Ill make sure to put a sock on handle next time." Sombra turns to look at Widow with a teasing grin. "Whats up?"

"I need that USB for the boss so if you would be so kind as to hand it over." Widow reaches out her palm.

"No, I think ill hang on to it for a little while longer. The boss cant just enjoy all the juicy secrets himself." She smirks and chucks the device into a drawer. 

Annoyed at this, Widow gently growls, close to becoming angry. "Sombra, that wasnt an option. The drive. NOW!" 

Working Widow up excites her. "And if I dont?" She laughs.

"Then I will rip it from your broken hands." Widow replies.

"Ooh la la, that sounds like a threat!"  Sombra stands up inches away from Widows face. "Do something, I dare you mi amiga."

In a flash, Widow takes Sombra to the ground, twisting both arms back and straddling her body, face down. 

"Get off me" Her voice was muffled against the floor. 

"No, mon ceri. C'est temps de te punir (its time to punish you)." Sombra's eyes grow wide, dreading what pain is about to follow. In a desperate attempt to get free, she clenches her fists and pulls her arms forward hard, managing to break Widow's grasp and spin around. But, annoyingly Widow still straddles her waist. With one hand, Widow pins Sombra's wrists above her head, pressing them against the cold cement floor. Sombra struggles but cant move. Widow patiently moves her face close to Sombra's. 

"No need to fear little girl, ill make this punishment quick and painless. Gently, her lips make contact with Sombra's, embracing in a soft kiss. However, becoming more aggressive when Widow slips her cold tongue into Sombra's warm mouth. Sombra gasps. But before she can kiss back, Widow breaks the kiss and sharply nips Sombra's bottom lip. Sombra could feel the warm blood drip down her lip.

"I- I dont understand" Sombra whispers.  Widow just giggles and pays no mind. Smiling mischievously, she lowers her robe to expose her black lace lingerie and laps up the stream of blood pooling on Sombra’s bottom lip. With her free hand, Widow lifts Sombra's shirt, revealing a braless pair of tan, quivering breasts. She leans in and sucks on her left then right nipple, leaving small bite marks on each. Sombra begins to protest and begs her to stop. Little to Widow’s knowledge, Sombra was still a virgin.

Widow pays no mind to her victim's discomfort and proceeds to slide her finger nails down Sombra's abs and over into her panties. 

"Purple lace. What a wonderful choice." She whispers. Sombra squirms and begs her to stop. Ignoring her pleads, Widow inserts two fingers into her moist pussy, thrusting them in and out while curling them in just the right way to hit her most tender spots. Sombra breaths in sharply, slightly moaning at this new experience. Widow lets go of Sombra's arms and places her hand on Sombra's left thigh. At this point Sombra does not protest, taking in the pleasure. Widow lowers her lips onto Sombra's clit. Gently sucking, tongue snaking around. She continues to thrust her fingers in her pussy, feeling how warmer and wetter Sombra gets. 

At this point Sombra is moaning loudly, no longer begging for widow to stop or fighting against the pleasure she was experiencing. That excited Widow. But before Sombra could wrap her head around these strange, erotic feelings, she climaxes. 

"Ohhhh Mierda!!!" She cries out. Panting heavily, she looks up at Widow licking her fingers as she rises to leave the room. 

Widow opens the drawer for the USB and walks to the door frame. She stops and turns her face back saying "I hope you have learned your lesson, foolish girl." Her eyes, before so empty, now glowing with pleasure. “Dont think I won’t punish you again.”

With that, Sombra was left in in the dark, music still quietly blaring through the stereo. Her chest burning and pussy throbbing. Was that really punishment, though? 'What was that. So wrong but yet...' She hesitates then out loud she gasps "I want more."

THE END

[glitchinthesystemspiderbyte]

[35] Glitch in the System - Chemicals & Circuitry

We didn’t have anything ready for y’all, but then @illegalanger dropped a perfect standalone prompt in our lap which means you get a story and we feel better about ourselves (we’re still working through the rest of them too, they’re just taking a bit more time). Enjoy!

A shower happens.

-

“Dammit.”

Widowmaker looked up from her cross-legged position on Sombra’s bed, briefly detaching herself from the book she was reading to glance across the room at where the hacker stood before the mirror in her attached bathroom suite, attempting to shave her head.

“Problem, cherie?” she asked, slipping a bookmark between the sheets of paper to mark her spot. Long legs unfolding, she slipped off the mattress to join Sombra in the bathroom.

“Just didn’t think too hard about basic style maintenance when I got these installed,” she grumbled, setting the electric razor down and running a hand over the bare spot she accidentally clipped too close to her skull. “Years later and this is still the hardest thing I have to do.”

“Not as simple as hacking into complex corporate mainframes, I’m certain,” Widowmaker mused, reaching up to touch the newly soft fuzz at the back of Sombra’s neck. “Would you like help?” “You want to shave my head?”

Widowmaker smiled, somehow managing to look both endearing and patronizing at the same time. Of all her expressions, the unintentional haughtiness with which the sniper showed amusement was by far Sombra’s favorite. “It is better than listening to you curse for an hour.”

“I try and use a variety of colorful words to keep it interesting,” Sombra said, grinning, and handing over the electric razor. “Good luck. Don’t make it worse.”

“Not to worry. You have set a low bar for me.”

Sombra rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, letting Widowmaker get to work.

“Sit,” the sniper said, pulling over one of the many large chairs in Sombra’s room. “It will be easier for me.”

“Yes ma’am,” Sombra replied, flopping into the big red chair. Widow positioned herself behind her, and Sombra watched the sniper carefully assessing the damage she’d wrought upon her own head. She ran her fingers gently over the growing hair along her part where there was always an irritating, haphazard ridge of spiky hair that grew in whichever direction it chose. Usually Sombra got to it before it grew out long enough to be noticeable, but she’d been lazy lately and it was more than ready to be tamed.

The buzzing of the electric razor pulled her attention back from fixating on the state of her hair, and she winced unnecessarily as Widow pressed it against her scalp.

“Did I hurt you?” she sniper asked, pulling back slightly and tilting her head.

“No, I just always hate the feeling of vibrating metal against my skull,” Sombra replied. It was a fleeting discomfort, but one she experienced every time regardless.

Widowmaker nodded, gently placing it back against her scalp and drawing the blade down in a straight line. “I imagine it would be unpleasant.” She brought the razor flush against one of the curved cybernetics, taking care not to rattle the metal against it. Pulling back, she switched the machine off for a moment to run a finger along the shining pink metal. “I would imagine this was not pleasant, either?” she asked.

“Not really,” Sombra said, shrugging. “Not unless you’re into having drill bits crammed into your skull.”

Widowmaker nodded, resuming her work. She persisted in silence for a minute or two, assessing Sombra’s head with an intensity she usually reserved for the movement patterns of those she intended on killing. “How was it done?” she asked after a while.

“How was what done?” “These,” she pointed at her cybernetics. “How were they installed?” Frowning in thought, she moved the razor down to the back of the hacker’s head. “I have never endured cybernetics. How did it feel?”

Sombra laughed lightly, remembering the day she decided to have the work done. It had seemed an almost casual decision at the time, considering she’d felt like she’d had no option but to have them done. “Like hell, really. It felt terrible. Heads weren’t made to be fucked with like that.”

Widowmaker chuckled knowingly. “That is a sentiment with which I can agree.” “Oof, sorry spider.”

Widowmaker gently smacked the back of her head. “It is fine. I am curious.”

Sombra sat for a moment as Widowmaker brushed the wretched small hairs she’d shorn free away from the back of her neck. They always got everywhere despite her efforts at preventing or brushing them away. She rarely made the effort anymore, but she appreciated Widowmaker’s attempts. Only a shower would eradicate them at this point, and even that was debatable.

“It was weird, really. Uncomfortable more than anything. The physical implantation was done with so much local anaesthetic that I didn’t really feel much, but I felt like I should be feeling a lot, so it was almost the same thing.” She shrugged her left shoulder, Widow’s hand on her right as she reached around her for a hair tie to restrain the longer hair cascading down the other side of her head. “Phantom pain, you know? It’s like your body knows something’s being done to it, and it hates it, so it reminds you that you’re fucking with it even if you can’t feel it by the usual means.”

“Oui,” Widow murmured in response. “I understand this.”

��The weirdest part, though?” Sombra said, regarding her reflection in the mirror. The sniper wasn’t doing too poorly. “Afterwards.”

“Afterwards?”

“Yeah, like once the implants had been completed and the nervewire had snaked its way through the tiny holes the cyberneticist drilled into my skull.”

At this, Widow paused, holding the razor above Sombra’s head. “Drilled holes?”

“Sí, araña. Wire’s got to get in there to complete the neural interface somehow.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” The sniper shook her head. “I dislike the imagery.”

Sombra laughed. “Yeah, fair. Nervewire’s terrible. It’s just a pile of weird, thin silver tendrils until you get it near organic material. Then it moves and wriggles and reaches of its own volition. Like it’s alive,” she shivered involuntarily at the memory. “I mean I’d do it again, but at least I’d know going in that it was going to get weird.”

“I did not realize such a thing was required.”

“It’s needed to bridge the gap between meat and machine. My cyberneticist called it ‘ubermensch ribbon.’ I think she thought she was being funny.” She leaned away slightly as Widow pushed against her head. “It replicates nerve endings and pathways, getting into muscle striations and other areas to complete delicate connections. Feels like someone’s pushing ice water with shards of glass floating in it through your veins, though. If you feel like being really grossed out, you can even watch it winding around under your skin.”

Sombra looked up at Widowmaker pulling a particularly discomfited face, and cut her description short.

“After that?” Widow asked, resuming her attentions under the right side of Sombra’s head. The undercut was trickier, but no one had steadier hands than the sniper.

“After that, cielito, I was fucked up,” she laughed. “It was like every emotion was turned on in my head and I had no way of reacting to it. I’d go from angry to sad to really, really excited in the span of a minute.”

“Ah, yes,” Widowmaker nodded. “I empathize.”

“Shut up.” The spider grinned.

“It was like grasping at smoke, you know? You could see it - it was there - but the moment you tried to hold onto it, it was gone. Sometimes I would just stare into space mid-thought and forget entirely what I had been doing.” Sombra held still as Widowmaker brought the razor around to the side of her head. She always hated the way it buzzed against her ear. “Plus I could feel the nervewire creating new pathways in real time.”

“The brain cannot feel,” Widow commented, raising an eyebrow.

“It wasn’t painful so much as just this creeping knowledge that it was happening. The same disembodied discomfort as when I had it installed. It felt like it should hurt, but it didn’t.”

Sombra shook her head as Widowmaker unleashed her tied back hair, watching the purple ombre fall back into place. “It was even stranger watching as things turned on. First my hard light screen, then wireless connectivity. It took a week for my arm cybernetics to sync with my cerebral ones, but as soon as it did it was like someone turned on all the lights at once: blinding at first, but then I could see absolutely everything.”

Widowmaker ran a brush through Sombra’s hair as she scrunched her curls back into shape, adding a bit of water to form them better. “I suppose I did not realize they were so connected to you.”

Sombra raised her eyebrows suggestively. “I can look up anything without lifting a finger. Direct hardline to the brain means I can think my searches into existence.”

“I can’t imagine that ever goes wrong.”

Sombra winced. “There have been some times.”

Widowmaker stepped back from Sombra’s chair. “I believe I am done,” she said, tilting her head to assess her work. “Does it look all right?”

Sombra stood up and leaned closer to the mirror, running a hand between her cybernetics. “Perfecto. Thank you, that was much easier than doing it myself.” Standing on her toes, she kissed Widow’s cheek. “Now I’ve got to shower all this fuzz off before it drives me nuts.”

“Do you need help with that, too?” Widowmaker asked so nonchalantly that Sombra nearly dismissed it out of hand.

She grinned back at her. “Oh, absolutely.”

*Read from the beginning or check out our intro post! All stories tagged under #glitchfic. Table of contents located here.

[solarbird]

The Armourer and the Living Weapon, Chapter 23: against your first and better judgement

I remind everyone - for the final time - that the AO3 archive warnings and tags are there for a reason. Please consider them appropriately before continuing. [View warnings and tags]

As these final chapters form the climax of the story, they will all be placed below cuts for spoiler protection. This does not indicate anything about whether they are worksafe, though some will not be.

This chapter is worksafe. [AO3 link]

Tracer geared up for battle, the last one, the big one, where - all goes well - Doomfist and Reaper both go down. No more double-agent I've-still-been-Blackwatch-all-along lies from Gabriel, no more let's-start-a-war from Akande, no more of... all this madness, none of which could end a moment too soon. She shook out her arms, then flipped out her pistols, which felt so nice in her hands, and flipped them back, perfectly, flawlessly, soothed.

She didn't love the kill, not like Oilliphéist did, and she didn't get the rush from it, like Widowmwaker, but she didn't mind it, either. Particularly not at this point, with so very many kills under her belt. Particularly not here, knowing who, and what, and why.

She smiled to herself, as she thought, Today... we prevent the Second Omnic Crisis.

"You seem cheerful, ma chérie," said Widowmaker, gearing up beside her. Oilliphéist flashed a smile, too, as she checked her rifle.

"Yeah," said Tracer, a bit of calm happiness in her expression, as she flipped her pistols in and out of their holsters. "A few days not bein' poked at makes all the difference in the world. And today, we wrap this up - as long as Moira doesn't bring in some stupid bloody last-minute change of plans, anyway." She grimaced, grunting a small noise of frustration. "I've got used t'her, I guess - but buggery hell, she still annoys me."

Widowmaker laughed, the sound delightful in her ears. "I know, she does. But it is amusing."

"What?" asked Tracer, half-grin all akimber across her face. "Me bein' all irritated makes you giggle? S'that what did it? Didn't even think you could giggle, six months ago..."

The blue assassin smirked. "No. It's that you always say that, and that you don't trust her, or her ideas, ever, and even with what we know, you always end up following her plans against your first judgement. That is funny."

Tracer smirked right back. "I do not."

Oilliphéist shook her head. "You do, though. Every time."

Tracer laughed, and popped her pistols into their holsters again. "Huh, yeah, I guess I..." She stopped. She tilted her head, and blinked, slowly. "I..."

The tangerine-clad assassin looked down, at her hands. They were shaking. They never shook. Not ever. They couldn't. "I..."

"Lena?" asked the Widowmaker, worried, Oilliphéist looking back up as well. "What's wrong?"

"I..." she shuddered, time after time after time flipping through her head, all at once.

Tea? No. ... Huh. A bit light for my tastes, but not bad.

This is a terrible idea. ... but... I guess so.

No. Sick a'bein' prodded. ... Fine. This work?

I'll never trust my quickness again. ... This is, this is wizard.

You call this nothing?! ... I like my eyes, doc. You got a problem with that?

I don't believe you, mate, - somethin' else is goin' on. ... I guess we're in. We're doin' this.

Her hands stopped shaking, and finally, she knew. "Bloody hell," she whispered. "...what have I done?"

"Lena?" Widowmaker stepped over, and took her hands in her own. "Talk to me, cherie?"

"I..." She braced herself, taking a deep breath. "I'm..." She looked up. "Do you love me?"

Widowmaker blinked, golden eyes reflecting her own confusion. "Of course... of course I do, you know that."

She looked over to Oilliphéist. "Do you trust me."

"Implicitly," replied the newer assassin.

Tracer bit her lip, hard. "I... I think I just figured somethin' out. Trust me, today. Follow my lead. And if y'can't follow - then just trust me and stay out of my way. Can you do that?"

"This is not the plan we've already had," her lover said, "is it."

"No. Wrong or right, that's still on. But if I'm right... we'll need to make some changes."

The senior assassin's eyes narrowed, as she considered what that meant, and widened again, as she reached the same conclusion Tracer had reached moments earlier. "...I will follow you."

Oilliphéist's mind ran much along the same path, the once-ginger thinking, Is that it? Is that... of course. Brilliant. "Tracer?" she said, firmly, gesturing to Widowmaker with a nod of her head, "I'm with her - but I'm also with you. Do you understand?"

The teleporter gave her counterpart, a long, desperate look. "...I think I do."

"Don't forget that."

Lena Oxton breathed out a heavy breath, and nodded. "I won't."

-----

"We have to rely on the fact that Lena's memories and base personality - I am now reasonably certain - were not modified. But she is changing, as she adopts to her body's new preferences. The positive reinforcement she is receiving for violence in particular is almost certainly quite strong. How quickly that's reshaping her, we cannot know."

"Even worse," Dr. Zhou pointed out, "they've been unmonitored for five days. Who even knows what O'Deorain has been doing to her - and to Danielle?"

"It is something we must keep in mind," Dr. Ziegler agreed. "But they must be ready to move at any time, and there has been no sign of any of them in Oasis, and my people have been watching O'Deorain's primary facilities quite closely. I doubt there has been opportunity for too much to be done."

"Maybe, maybe not," the Soldier said. "If she wanted to subdue them, haul them off somewhere... her niece managed it just fine before."

"That's the second time you've called Emily O'Deorain's niece," the double-agent in Blackwatch armour said. "What are you talking about?"

"Emily's her niece," Fareeha replied. "They both said so."

Reyes squinted, or, at least, looked like he was, despite the low knit cap. "No, she's not. Moira's an only child. Emily's a war orphan. Her parents were Welsh and English, not Irish."

"Seriously?" Hana waved her hands around in frustration. "Seriously?!" She went head-down on the tabletop, and screamed a little. "Of course she's not."

"Sorry - I'm Talon's chief of security, believe me, I'm sure." He scratched behind his left ear, looking down at the table. "Must be some part of keeping her compliant." He looked back up. "Gardner was," he laughed a little, "difficult to keep on a leash. Brilliant - maybe the best weapons engineer I've ever seen, but... well, we had a dedicated squadron of guards assigned to her. There were reasons."

"Before being transformed?" Winston asked, a little bit incredulously.

"Yep. Two fireteams, on alternating duty. Killed every one of 'em on the way out, too. And her psychologist. And a few other people."

Angela looked to the former Blackwatch commnder. "That... does not fit well with the person I have met."

"I agree," Mei-Ling said. "She is very strange, but she is also very nice."

He shrugged. "She could act like a normal person, when she wanted to - until you set her off. Then you needed a fireteam. Or two."

The doctor gave Reyes a considering look. "We might be able to use the changes to her memory," the doctor said. "If it isn't just an act, and if Emily is truly unaware of the changes. It might provide a wedge..."

"Stop - if she's not Moira's niece, why hasn't Widowmaker said anything?" Amari demanded. "Is she in on it?"

Reyes shrugged. "Amélie's memories got pretty hashed up. Widowmaker makes new memories reasonably well, but..." he tapped the tabletop with his fingers. "It's not hard to put one over on her if it involves the past. She just doesn't care."

"I see," Morrison said. "We haven't understood anything that's been going on this entire time, have we?"

"No," said Dr. Zhou, sadly. "We have not"

Reyes shook his head, slowly. "Neither have we. She's been outplaying me for months and I never knew."

"Winston, a sensor has been tripped," Athena said, with a chime. "Tracer has activated her Overwatch PADD. It appears to be active somewhere in Edinburgh, Scotland."

She's made a mistake, he thought, as everyone in the room reacted, sitting slightly taller. Or sent up a flare. "Thank you, Athena. Try to pin that down," he replied, before looking over at Reyes, asking, "Where's Ogundimu?"

"Moving between safehouses. I don't know which."

"Gabriel..."

He put his hands up, palms towards the ceiling. "I don't. He's taken over his own security arrangements. Given everything, I don't blame him - I would too."

"Winston," Athena broke in, "Tracer has contacted me by voice, asking that I record a message for you. She requested not to be connected."

"PUT HER ON LIVE, RIGHT NOW! TRACER, CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

Tracer's voice appeared over the conference room speakers. "...follow us, or try to intervene, right? Please? Just let us finish this."

"Tracer, this is Winston, can you hear me?"

"We've got our own plans, for after, once everyone calms down," she continued, not pausing. "Just... stay out of the way. Please. Things are strange, I'd explain, but we're in a rush, but we know, all right? We know."

"Tracer, please, talk to me!"

"Once we've got this sorted - and we will get this sorted - I'll be back in touch. Just... stay clear 'till then. Tracer out."

"Lena, no!"

"Connection broken at her end, Winston. I'm sorry," Athena said, with a hint of regret. "The first part of the message indicates they are moving out for the final phase of the operation."

"Were you able to pin down the PADD's location?"

"Old Town section of Edinburgh, Scotland - near the Royal Mile."

"Of course it is," Hana snorted. "Shoulda known."

"Fine. Athena, please prep the Sparrowhawk for launch." The scientist turned to the rest of the assembled Overwatch. "I'm going to Edinburgh, I'm going to find her, and I'm going to talk Lena into coming home."

Hana shook her head. "She will not come back without Widowmaker and Oilliphéist. She will not split the party. I'm telling you now."

"Maybe not. But if I approach her myself, alone, I'm certain she'll listen to me."

"You are not approaching her alone," Fareeha insisted.

"Lena would never..."

"Oilliphéist would," Morrison interrupted. "And you know it."

Reyes nodded. "Given what she was like before... if she decides you're trying to take Lena away from her? You'll be dead before you know she's there."

"Winston," Athena broke in, again. "I have a keepalive signal from the PADD. It is moving."

"...she didn't cut the battery?" Fareeha said, surprised.

"She is highly stressed," Angela said, "and said she was in a rush..."

"Athena, complete silence to her PADD. Treat it like it's off. If she doesn't notice what she did..."

Hana Song grinned, for the first time in five days. "Then we have a tracker."

Winston grinned back. "Okay! Amari, Ziegler, Morrison - be my backup? And I do mean way back. Hana, we can't take the mech on the Sparrowhawk - stay here, run tactical?"

She frowned. "I'd rather be on site, but..." She thought it over. "Yeah. It'll work."

"I should go, too," Mei-Ling said. "My data is what convinced..." she swallowed, "I convinced everyone to go along with this. I have a duty to her."

"Absolutely not, Doctor," Morrison said. "This could go well - or it could go very badly."

Dr. Ziegler nodded. "Someone needs to shepherd your data through peer review. It's too important - the future of the world literally depends upon it. You must stay here."

"McCree," he tabbed comms. "You've been listening in?"

"Yup," he said, from the observation tower. "Y'want me here on watch?"

"Please. And when Lúcio checks back in, have him get here if he can, as medical backup."

"Can do. Good luck out there."

"Thanks. Hopefully we won't need it."

-----

Reyes ghosted his way down the cliffside, solidifying at the ledge below base grounds, next to his flyer. Sitting at the controls, he punched a long sequence of codes into his comms panel, and a network of relays and anonymising nodes came online.

"Doomfist, Reaper here."

Aboard a stealth flyer somewhere across the world, a large ring on a large hand tapped its wearer, and that wearer tapped back, raising it to his face. "Hello, Reaper. Your update?"

"Overwatch is activated, on our side. They have tracking on Tracer, and they're going to try to pull her out of the game for us. Get out of the UK."

"Where is she?"

"Edinburgh, at the moment. But she's on the move, presumably with O'Deorain and her other toys."

"I am not the sort of man who runs from a fight, Gabriel."

Don't do this now, Reyes thought, tiredly. I need you alive. "We can recover Widowmaker later. Get out of the UK."

"I think not. I am done with this. O'Deorain wants a fight? Fine. If she's on the move, she knows where I am, and I know she is coming. She will get that fight."

"Akande, I am over five hours away," he lied, punching up his flyer's engines and checking tracking on the Sparrowhawk, finding the signal clear and strong. Heh, he smirked, behind his mask. Thank you, Winston. Predictable as always. Please, lead me straight to O'Deorain. To Akande, he said, "At least stay low 'til I get there."

"Do not tell me how to handle myself, Reyes. I cannot lose the respect of the board by backing down." There was a pause, for a moment, Akande presumably considering his options. "But I will take the travel time from Oasis under consideration. Keep me updated on Overwatch. I'll need to know if the teleporter is still involved."

The double-agent cut mic as his rage spiked, closed his eyes, let himself snarl over Ogundimu's bullheadedness, and then, contained it, as he knew he must. "Acknowledged," he said, thumbing his microphone with a smokey hand. "Reaper out."

[necromantic13]

[2] Moira O’Deorain - Digging

Part 2 of my blisteringly vindictive Sombra vs. Moira Widowmaker revenge fiction. I guess that’s the official tagline now.

You can read Part 1 here. Realistically, this is probably Part 0, although likely unnecessary aside from keeping my own headcanon straight.

Science babes dance.

“What did you need?”

“Azúcar.”

“It’s here,” Widowmaker said, nonchalantly sipping her coffee with one hand while holding the cup of sugar out of Sombra’s reach with the other. Seeming to just notice Sombra struggling to grab it, she feigned concern. “I’m sorry, cherie - is it too high for you?”

“Araña, why are you being so mean? Gimme some sugar,” Sombra whined, her halfhearted attempt at reaching for the sugar ending in a gentle kiss on the spider’s lips. “Got it,” she smirked.

“Your puns are terrible,” Widow replied through a small smile. Relenting at last, she handed Sombra the ceramic dish. It was filled to the brim with miniature brown crystals - some “natural” sweetener Akande, for whatever reason, insisted they use. Sombra wasn’t picky so long as she could turn her coffee into a candy bar.

Sombra took it and set it on the table next to them, pressing her forehead against the spider’s chest for a moment. It was so rare that she joked, she didn’t even mind being the one abused in the process.

“Couch date? You can read dumb books while I infect Gabriel’s computer with malware?” Sombra asked, looking up. Widowmaker raised an eyebrow, reaching a hand out to brush her hair behind her ear when they were distracted by the sound of another body entering their space.

“Good morning,” Moira said, stepping into the kitchen. Sombra pushed herself out of Widowmaker’s embrace, swiping the sugar from the counter and dumping a solid two spoonfuls into her mug in an effort to avoid the woman’s penetrating stare.

“Hey,” Sombra said, stirring her drink and leaning against the counter. “There’s coffee.”

“Mmm, none for me, thank you,” Moira replied, instead reaching for a bag of loose leaf tea. “A jittery hand with a scalpel often ends poorly.”

A joke, clearly, but a passing glance at Widowmaker showed her face blank and drawn in a way Sombra recognized as uncomfortable. She took another long sip of her drink. “I hack faster when I’m shaking.”

Moira made a soft sound of disapproval, filling up the old silver teapot they kept on the stove and setting it over one of the burners. “We all have our methods, I suppose.”

Sombra rolled her eyes. She was going to choke on all that pretentiousness eventually.

“How are you feeling, Amélie?” Moira asked, turning her attention to the sniper as her water boiled. She was the only one Widowmaker didn’t correct in regards to her name. It annoyed Sombra deeply, and made her even more curious as to the nature of their preexisting relationship.

“I don’t feel, Moira,” the spider replied, stirring her coffee and sending a fleeting look toward Sombra. “That’s the point, isn’t it?” Mug in hand, she exited the room a bit more quickly than usual, brushing past Moira on her way and leaving Sombra alone with the red-headed woman.

“I wonder what bug’s in her bonnet?” Moira chuckled, the look on her face suggesting she knew exactly what manner of discomfort Widowmaker was suffering.

“She doesn’t like being called Amélie,” Sombra replied cooly, wondering if picking a fight was wise. It was rare she listened to her voice of reason, but it persisted in offering advice regardless.

“My dear,” Moira said, chuckling as she eyed Sombra like one might a precocious child, “Amélie doesn’t like anything. She doesn’t dislike anything. Any emotional response she may have can be chalked up to random happenstance and electrical impulses.” The teapot began to whistle, and she switched off the heat to quiet it. Raising an eyebrow at Sombra’s cybernetics, Moira made a small sound of interest. “You understand the nature of technobiology, yes?” she asked, lifting the pot off the burner.

“Un poquito,” Sombra answered, her hold on the anger welling within her loosening by the second.

“Then you must know she’s a blank slate. An empty data chip, if you will.” Laughing, she waved a hand flippantly in the air. “It’s up to people us to write the code. Scientists; those with a clear vision of the future and the sacrifices that must be made in order to achieve it.” Her words were callous in a way that indicated malicious intent; a desire to needle past Sombra’s skin and elicit some sort of reaction to her words.

Sombra said nothing.

“Come,” she said, and to Sombra's dismay, gestured for her to sit down as she poured her tea and walked toward the dining room table.

I've danced with worse, she thought to herself, sitting across from her at the kitchen table. Besides - far be it for her to decline an invitation at picking the brain of someone whose life history she fully intended on tearing from Talon’s database. The more she knew of a person’s motives, the easier it was to ascribe context and intent to their past actions.

“You have impressive cybernetics,” Moira said, keen eyes expressing a level of interest that made Sombra feel like she was being dissected on a cold slab.

“You too,” she replied, tossing the compliment back at the geneticist while explicitly avoiding offering any details as to their nature. Eyeing the silver strands embedded in the scientist’s right hand, she extrapolated on the use for someone in Moira’s field. “Dexterity support?”

Moira chuckled, sipping her jasmine green. “Cinnte, they are, at least in part. My work is more involved than slicing up frogs and dead cats.” Leaning forward, she looked at Sombra closely. “Have you had any genetic alterations done?” Her eyes traveled down the implants in her wrists and along her skull. “I can help you increase your kinetic output; maximize the impact of your investment.”

“I do fine on my own,” Sombra replied, ignoring the faint twinge of curiosity at the woman's words. Moira was a Venus fly trap, and she wasn’t about to walk into her poison maw to satisfy her love of innovative tech. Not this time, at least.

She wondered if Gabriel had been given a choice.

Moira nodded, canting her head in curiosity. “I don't know you well, Sombra, but I can tell you're no fool. I don't know what the others have told you,” she said, standing with her mug in hand. “But I'm not the enemy.”

Holding out an olive branch in the form of an extended hand, she waited for the hacker’s response. It was slow in coming, but eventually she stood up and accepted. Her grip was firm and authoritative, and Sombra met it with her own unspoken challenge.

“I look forward to learning from you,” Sombra said, smiling through false deference.

“And I look forward to learning what makes you tick.”

She met Widowmaker upstairs by one of the many sunlit alcoves, curled against a nest of pillows on a patterned couch, eyes scanning the words of the page she was reading.

“Good?” Sombra asked, peering at the back of the book for context. There was none to be found in the plain, olive drab cover, faint lines of text scrawled too small for her to see without effort she wasn’t willing to spend.

The spider seemed distant, but she nodded in affirmation. “As good as any of Camus’s works,” she replied, making space for Sombra to sit next to her. “Do you have work to do?” she asked as the hacker summoned her hard light interface before her.

“Work?” she replied quizzically, contemplating her response. A row of neon binary raced across the lines of her palm, her cybernetics quickly translating it to readable text as she activated the wireless upload she’d hacked into Moira’s hand when they’d parted ways in the kitchen. “Sure,” she said, a slow grin crossing her face. “I think we can call it that.”

Want more? Head over to Part Three. If you like this, maybe check out Glitch in the System for more spiderbyte!

[camellia-earhart-blog]

I want to know more about Sombra and Cuervo!

Oooh boy! I have LOTS of angst for them! (some of which are spoilers for the fic, proper), but I’ve had this early-days draft saved up for just the right occasion!

    All was quiet in the dark of the night. Sombra was safely asleep on her disheveled mattress she called a bed, covers pulled up around her shoulders. The only noises from outside were the distant sounds of lazy traffic from the street a ways down the hill from the little hideout. Everything was peaceful. Then a spiteful, rage-driven cry split the air.

    Sombra’s heathery blue eyes opened tiredly. She groaned to herself as the crying continued, echoing down the short hall and into her exhausted ears. The hacker pushed herself into a sitting position, taking a moment to rub the sleep from her eyes, and the drool from the edge of her mouth. When she could stand without immediately stumbling into a defeat, she stood and edged her way down the hall and into the little room at the end of it, where the source of the eardrum-torturing squealing was waiting for her. He was squirming indignantly in his crib, disrupting the calmness of the rest of the night, or early morning, as the clock suggested. Sombra ran her hands over her face in exasperation before scooping up the month old baby in her arms, gently swaying him from side to side.

    “Shh.” she said gently, though on the inside she yearned to scream. “Calmese, mijo. This is the third time tonight.”

    The infant continued to whine, and not bothering to check first, Sombra went ahead and changed him, rocked him, tried to feed him, rocked him again, gingerly threatened to leave him to Los Muertos, rocked him some more, until finally she was on the verge of tears as well. She couldn’t take it anymore. She’d been dangling on the edge for weeks since having the little slobber-monster, and she’d been convinced she could handle it. It’d be easy. How hard could it be to lull a baby to sleep? Maybe have to change it every once in awhile? At that moment she was finding out the hard way that it was not only difficult, but impossible. She was never going to get a full night’s sleep again. This kid was going to kill her.

    “Ay dios mio.” she muttered, trying not to glare down at the poor defenseless tear sack in her arms. “I can’t do this!”

    The baby continued to scream, unrelentlessly and uncaring for his mother’s nerves which were being slowly fried, one by one. Sombra adjusted him so she could cradle him safely in one arm, and dial her phone with her other. She held the phone to her ear, desperately straining to hear when it had been picked up over her son’s wailing.

“Quelle…?” came the fuzzy answer. “It’s four in the morning, Sombra. I swear if this isn’t important-”

    “Buenas dias.” Sombra greeted, too stressed to make her sarcasm apparent. “You still hiding down the street? Haven’t abandoned me yet?”

    “…Oui.” Widowmaker replied, voice heavy with thought. “Is that insufferable noise Francisco?”

    Sombra couldn’t contain her frazzled anxiousness any longer, she’d gone too long without a proper night’s sleep, and her voice began to waver as she spoke.

    “No, it’s my new pet chinchilla.” she muttered. “Of course it’s Fransisco! Amelie you have to help me, I haven’t slept for more than six hours in three days!”

    There was an overly long pause. Sombra feared her old co-worker was about to hang up on her.

    “Hello!?” she tried again. “I’ll accept any verbal response!”

    There was a low chuckle, and Francisco seemed to raise his volume to compensate. Sombra felt mild fury spark in her chest, but she pushed it away due to the screaming infant she was holding. When Widowmaker had gotten her fill of laughing at the hacker, she finally returned with a response.

    “Have you tried feeding him?” she asked.

    “Thanks for the benefit of the doubt, Spidey.” Sombra replied irritably. “Yes, I tried to feed him! He wouldn’t eat, he doesn’t need to be changed! He just won’t stop crying!”

    Widowmaker snickered again, and Sombra huffed in annoyance.

    “I can’t help it, cherie.” Widowmaker replied. “This is ridiculous.”

    Sombra’s face heated up in frustration. She had to restrain herself from shouting as Francisco was noisy enough for the time being.

    “What if there’s something wrong with him!?” she asked. “Or me? What if there’s something wrong with both of us?!”

    Another pause.

    “…Do you want me to come over?” Widowmaker asked.

    “I dunno, listening to my son’s neverending screaming until I die of sleep deprivation sounds pretty fun!” Sombra shot back.

    Widowmaker sighed.

    “Oui. I’ll be there soon.”

    When the minutes slipped by, and the former assassin finally turned up at Sombra’s doorstep, Francisco had only slowed his crying a tiny bit, his mother was close to sobbing as well. As soon as Widowmaker was inside, Sombra tried to hand her son off to her. A gesture which Widowmaker adamantly declined. They retreated back into the baby’s room, Sombra still gently rocking him in a futile attempt to get him to cease his crying and go back to sleep. Widowmaker stood off to the side for the first few minutes, watching her friend’s methods. When ten minutes had gone by without a change in the situation, the young mother turned back to Widowmaker, eyes exhausted.

    “See what I mean!?” she exclaimed. “He won’t stop! What am I doing wrong!?”

    “Nothing.” Widowmaker replied simply.

    Sombra rolled her eyes though it seemed as if the movement was more out of concern than irritation.

    “Then what’s wrong with him!?” she asked. “You don’t think he’s sick or something, do you?”

    Widowmaker shook her head, leaning over Sombra’s shoulder to get a better look at the distressed infant. She reached down and gently brushed a finger against Francisco’s little cheek. She looked back to Sombra.

    “No.” she said.

    “Then what’s going on!?” Sombra asked. “You took motherhood classes, right? Before Gerard…?”

    While Widowmaker would’ve normally met mentions of that incident with cold steeliness, and aloof speech, she could tell Sombra hadn’t brought it up to be annoying or rude or invasive. She’d brought it up because she was at her wit’s end, which was something Widowmaker could understand far too well. She sighed, deciding to just tell the whole truth.

    “I did.” she said. “And there’s one thing you still haven’t tried.”

    Sombra almost looked relieved for a moment, until she realized Widowmaker was hesitating to say just what the something was.

    “Well?” she asked.

    “My mother,…” Widowmaker began, trying to find a way to deliver her advice without being completely shut down. “Used to say that she’d sing to me when I was a baby. She said it worked every time.”

    Sombra couldn’t think of what to say. She was searching for words when her son once again voiced his disapproval through his month old lungs, and she just decided to go for it.

    “Okay, fine.” she agreed. “So work your magic, ballerina.”

    Widowmaker was a bit taken aback. She refused to take Francisco from his mother’s arms once again, and took a small step away from the pair. She shook her head softly.

    “Il n’est pas mon enfant.” she said. “You have to do it yourself.”

    “But-”

    Widowmaker fixed the other Talon agent with a icy glare. Sombra sighed.

    “What should I sing?” she deadpanned.

    “That’s up to you, as well.”

    Sombra looked back down to the squirming baby in her arms and heaved another tired sigh. She thought for a moment, before settling on a set of soothing words, and beginning to rock Francisco gingerly.

    “Duermete mi nino, que tengo que hacer~” she began, Francisco continuing to weep. “Layar los panales y sentarme a coser~”

    She kept the lullaby up, finding to her immense comfort that it seemed to have done the trick. Francisco had stopped crying only a bit after she’d began, and was asleep before the song was over. The mother looked to Widowmaker, who simply shrugged, and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

    “What now?” Sombra asked, still cradling her slumbering son.

    “What do you mean?” Widowmaker asked.

    Sombra rolled her eyes.

    “Do I put him back?” she whispered, indicating to the crib with her lavender-blue eyes. Widowmaker scoffed.

    “Only if you miss his voice that much.” she replied. Sombra groaned, obviously spent, and ready for the incident to be over.

    “Then when do I put him back?” she demanded.

    Widowmaker took a step forward, staring down at the child with something that almost looked like content on her face. She took a breath, and looked back to Sombra.

    “Give him a few minutes.” she said.

    Sombra nodded, as she gazed upon the baby in her arms. She still almost couldn’t believe it. He was her kid. Like, she’d made him, and here he was, entirely dependent on her. Well, her and maybe Widowmaker as well. The hacker obviously had a long way to go, but she hoped she’d be able to be there for Francisco, like her parents wanted to be for her. She’d gotten it into her head a long time ago that she could never have a family, that hers had been taken from her for a reason. Only when she looked at Francisco did she think otherwise. She sighed, and looked back up to Widowmaker.

    “Thanks.” she said softly. “I guess I’m pretty bad at this.”

    Widowmaker shook her head.

    “You aren’t bad.” she stated. “Just new.”

    Sombra chuckled.

    “Is that all?” she joked. Widowmaker gestured to Francisco.

    “I think you can put him down now.” she said. Sombra took a moment to think over her options. She shook her head.

    “I think I want him closer to me tonight.” she said.

    “Widowmaker nodded in understanding.

    “I’ll get his cradle.” she murmured. “And I’m staying on the couch tonight, understood?”

    “Got it.” Sombra replied.

    As Widowmaker rummaged through the closet at the end of the hall, Sombra kept her watch over Francisco, holding him close. And although she knew he couldn’t hear her, and wouldn’t understand her if he could, she found herself whispering gingerly to him.

    “Don’t worry, mijo.” she said. “I’ll always be here to protect you. Whenever you need it most. I promise.”

[alexiela73]

How are you doing? I love your hcs about the s/o with prosthetic limbs. And I was wondering if you could do the same for Hanzo, Reaper, Sombra and Widowmaker! (I'm a different anon)

No worries and yes!

Hanzo

Hanzo had asked you the spring before you lost your limbs if you would marry him. The two of you had been rather excited-you had already made the plans for the following fall, a dress picked out and everything.

But then that summer the accident happened and the wedding had to be put on hold

To Hanzo, it didn’t matter how long you waited before the wedding as long as you would be okay.

He tried as hard as he could to show you that despite your physical changes, his feelings had not changed.

But for you, this was a loss. You didn’t feel like there was any way that he could truly want to marry you now that you were like this. After all, Hanzo showed a slight aversion or Omnics…and now you were only half human.

As you struggled to get used to your prosthetic limbs, you distanced yourself from Hanzo. It was like you were preparing for the worst, for him to call everything off.

And yet…you’d never felt more alone in your life. There was no one that could comfort you, and no one that you wanted more then him.

One day he was sick of playing the avoidance game. Hanzo had stormed up the steps of your house, shoved open the door…only to find you crying on the stairs. One of your prosthetic feet had fallen off and you were so tired, just tired of being this person and tired of pretending it didn’t matter and tired of feeling broken, physically and mentally.

After a moment of silence, Hanzo had slowly gone and crouched in front of you, picking up your prosthetic foot.

“Do not cry, beloved. Your tears make my heart ache,” Hanzo had said quietly, gently re-attaching your foot.

Looking away, you’d found it hard to face him after your behavior. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, for all of this. For treating you like that and for…for pushing you away and becoming this burden…” you whispered.

Hanzo had scowled instantly and picked you up like the bride you were, carrying you to the couch to sit with him.

“Beloved, a burden is a load that is heavy or difficult to bear. You are a gift i cherish every moment, and even with these prosthetic limbs, you are my only delight in this world,” Hanzo said gravely, ever the serious one.

Sniffling, you wondered if he really meant that.

“Now, no more avoiding me. We have a wedding to plan, y/n, and the sooner the better. I tire of living in a separate home from you,” he said seriously.

With half sob half laugh, the two of you sat there, snuggled for the first time in awhile, planned out the remaining details of your wedding as you realized there was no chance of him backing out.

Reaper

Despite having become Reaper, your relationship had survived when he had died and changed. Although you didn’t agree with his choices, you couldn’t leave him as you loved him more then anything

So when the accident occurred and you ended up having to have your limbs amputated… You grew silent. Cut yourself off, despite getting prosthetic limbs.

The event had traumatized you a bit, to be honest, and you felt like a monster for how you looked.

Reaper, despite having to lead Talon, was with you most of the time. He didn’t mean to but his worry came out as anger, especially when the doctors said they’d be amputating your limbs

This was just another sign to you that Reaper would not love you, not want you, when the deed was said and done. You thought he’d finally throw you out like trash.

Honestly though, few things scared a man like him, but your silence did.

One day he was sitting next to you, and after a moment you felt a cold hand touch your shoulder gently. In the corner of your eye you saw that Reaper had removed his glove and was watching you seriously.

“Y/n..” he rasped. “I’m begging you. Please talk. Say anything. Please.”

Turning your face away slowly, you took a shuddering breath. “You should probably go,” you whispered. “You don’t want me like this. I’ll only hold you back.”

Reaper leapt to his feet, hands moving to make you look at him. Lifting away his mask, he stared at you in shock and anger and sadness.

“Don’t ever say such a thing. I don’t care about your prosthetic limbs, y/n. I care about you,” he said seriously.

“But how can you want me when I’m like this?” you challenged, tears stinging your eyes. How could you cry before a man who felt so little emotion half the time?

Shaking his head, Reaper moved to sit on the edge of the bed. His expression was open, full of remorse and love and protectiveness. “You don’t understand. y/n, your the only person who makes me feel alive, the only person who makes my heart beat. Prosthetics or no, that isn’t going to change.”

For a moment you could only stare, before you let out a soft noise and were surrounded in his arms again, as he held you protectively. You wondered if that was true, but that was more expression you’d seen on his face in a very long time.

Reaper helped you grow more comfortable with your limbs, and killed anyone who dared to comment on them.

Sombra

She fell in love with you after the accident that led to you getting prosthetics

You’ve had prosthetic limbs now for almost a year and have grown quite used to them. The only thing that bothered you was you never felt pretty with them. People seemed to avoid you, other then those you already knew

So when Sombra ended up facing you time and time again during missions, even when they were failures, she couldn’t help growing to admire you and even formed a bit of a crush

It sucked because Widowmaker made fun of her for liking you, but Sombra got fed up with it at one point and totally broke Widowmakers sniper.

That is how Sombra ended up coming to you and Overwatch, seeking protection. Protection of course was her being in a isolated room with bars.

Lucky for her, you ended up being her guard and Sombra couldn’t stop herself from flirting with you from day one. Half the time you wondered if she was joking, but Sombra was funny and kind of cute when she was maniacal.

One day you two were sitting back to back in the room, as at this point you trusted her. The two of you were playing gold fish, and she’d just won.

“Hey chica, want to make the next round interesting?” Sombra said with a wink. “Winner gets a kiss!” That way Sombra could get one no matter what

With a roll of your eyes, you started shuffling the deck. “You shouldn’t joke about stuff like that. You’ll make me think i have a shot,” you said, half bitter and then blinked when you realized what you said. You had a bit of a crush on her too, but you didn’t think she’d go for it.

“Of course you do. I’m not kidding.I’ll throw myself into your arms now if you want,” Sombra purred, glancing over her shoulder at you. It made you incredulous. Was she kidding?

“But why…?” You asked with a frown, turning to look at her.

“Because for one, your smoking hot. No joke,” Sombra said, twirling a purple strand around her finger as she looked at the wall across from her. “And for another…i admire your strength. I wish i was as strong as you. You don’t let your limbs stop you and you continue living life like its nothing.”

After a moment she turned and smiled almost shyly at you. You’d never really thought of it that way before.

Sombra really was kind of cute, you decided, and thought maybe it would work out…maybe she did like you. So, against the better judgement of your superiors, you ended up freeing Sombra and dating her all within the same day. Now you both have a very complicated life when it comes to work, but at the end of the day you know she’ll always be your girl

Widowmaker

For her its a bit more complicated

At the beginning of your relationship, it really wasn’t about love. Widowmaker hadn’t really felt emotion in a long time, so more or less you were a bit of a plaything, a fling

But slowly, the more time you two spent together, she felt herself slowly growing attached

In a scary way, it was like her emotions had returned to her, but dulled down.

So that moment when after two years of your odd relationship you ended up in an accident, Widowmaker was stunned by the overwhelming sense of panic and worry that consumed her at the thought that she might have lost you.

Amelie had joined you in the hospital and sat with you while you went through a series of tests and procedures. All the while she managed to keep her composure.

When you woke up to find your limbs amputated and replaced by prosthetics, you thought it was the end. You knew how your relationship had started. Widowmaker had loved pretty things to amuse her. But now…you weren’t even that.

So when you saw Widowmaker walk in, holding a tray of coffee and a beignet, you turned away. She was probably here to just cut it off. You didn’t realize she’d been sitting with you for eight whole days, worrying over you.

“You’re awake,” she had said slowly.

“Yes. Don’t worry, i can imagine what your going to say. It was fun while it lasted, right?” you whispered, not looking at her.

For a moment, she had not responded..before stalking over and grabbing your limb. Lifting it, Widowmaker had stared at you and in turn, you were shocked to see angry tears in your eyes.

“‘It was fun while it lasted’? Are you joking?” She snarled, her french accent thicker then usual. “Ma Cherie, i was so worried! How dare you, after i spent eight days worrying endlessly in the hospital with you, try and dismiss me like this. I have been so scared! How could you be so foolish?”

For a moment you gawked, because honestly her tears were more shocking then the prosthetic limbs you’d woken up with.

“B-but…but you…don’t like ugly things…” you said, not understanding.

“There is nothing ugly i can see in this room, ma cherie, and certainly not you! I do not care if you have prosthetic limbs or real ones, because it is the you who has captured my heart, not your body,” Widowmaker said, breathing hard. For a moment the two of you could only stare at each other, before Widowmaker pressed the most gentle of kisses to your lips.

“I am not leaving,” she says quietly, as if to reaffirm that. “I am not leaving now, nor will i ever. My dove, you have ensnared me in your web. I will never be able to leave, as I love you too much now.”

It stunned you, to hear that from her. All this time you wondered if she had ever grown to care for you at all. To know that she loved you…that you had brought life back into the dead heart of widowmaker…it was astonishing.

“I…I love you too,” you whispered, holding onto her as though without her, your heart might break.

[blumenbunny]

Arguments 

Hello so this is a small part(hopefully) one-shot(maybe?) writing for @annadeef on the Raptoramaker ship. This is based off of some of the stream talk. I’m still a baby writer so I hope you like it ;-;. Sorry for any spelling or grammar errors.  PS:I was the one named ShinigamiMask on the most recent stream.

“Fareeha? I don’t understand I saw you with my own eyes that day, I…” Angela stared at her previous lover through the glass window currently separating them. “It’s not like you would understand.” Pharah’s eyes shot daggers into Angela’s blue ones as she spoke with a venomous voice, rather than her old gentle one. 

A couple of hours ago, Talon was assigned to rescue Doomfist as he was being escorted to a new facility. Overwatch had helped with the escort. Talon managed to pull off much but in the end, Pharah had got caught. Someone had shot one of her Jetpack thrusters. 

“I tried to help you. I truly did Liebling!” Angela had a pained face as she tried to explain.

“I laid there. Waiting for you to do something to help, maybe even try and carry me to medical aid, but what is the first thing YOU do? RUN. YOU. RUN. You left me wounded! I was awake the whole time! My eyes followed you leaving me there to die! Hell I didn’t even have my arms!” Fareeha screeched, pounding her right prosthetic on the sturdy glass window. Her left one was currently severed and on the table outside of the cell she was in. Angela’s little rebound Genji managed to cut it off. She never really did get along with him. 

“I didn’t want to make the same mistake with you! I hoped….” Angela was desperate at this point. She couldn’t find the right words.

“Hoped what? That I would find peace with myself? That I would die quickly and painlessly? That you wouldn’t make the same mistake on me like you did Gabriel?” Fareeha gazed at Angela. She stood straight and tall despite the pain she was in. She got close to Gabriel much after he had saved her. 

“That was an accident.” Mercy tried her best to stay calm and collected. Tears threatened to escape.

Fareeha turned around and sat back down onto the bench inside of her cell. It wasn’t comfortable at all but she had dealt with worse back in the Egyptian Army. She scoffed with a grin on her face. As she looked down and said, 

“Speak to me when you truly have something to say.” She laid down and stared at the ceiling. 

Angela stopped and took a moment of realization that this wasn’t the same Fareeha. Talon had done something to the way Fareeha thinks. Something that she couldn’t undo. 

“What did they do to you Pharah…?” Angela felt as if she was choking on her words.

“My name is Raptor. Pharah is gone. Pharah is dead. They made me better.” Fareeha spat out.

Angela put a lone hand over her face as she walked out of the door, quietly whispering “I’m sorry.” 

As she the door closed behind her she looked up and saw Genji sitting aside. As if he was waiting for her to leave the room. 

“Angela…” (I need healing.JK) Genji started before he felt Angela’s arms envelope him in a hug. 

“What did I do Genji….?” Angela helplessly cried against his shoulder. 

“The best thing to do now I believe…is to wait for an opportunity.” Genji hugged back.

What they didn’t notice though, was the conversation happening inside of Fareeha’s cell. 

“I do hope you do not plan on leaving me here Ya Amar.” Raptor whispered out.

“Of course not cherie. I do not plan on letting you rot around those pathetic Overwatch agents.” Widowmaker’s voice flowed through her ears.

“Yea no worries hermana~” Sombra’s voice replaced widow’s.

“Im sure you and araña can go back to what you were doing once you’re out.” Fareeha knew Sombra had a smile on her face as she said that.

“Sombra I swear…” Both Widow and Raptor spoke at the same time.  -------------------------------------Please send any tips on writing to me. I would greatly appreciate that.

[nitewrighter]

#2 widow 76 (widow 76 = flipped around version of reaper and mercy)

Me, reading this prompt: “Oh cool! I can make a fic that’s a companion fic to that McSombra one!”

Me, reading “Widow 76 = flipped around version of reaper and mercy:”

2. “You do this sort of thing often?”

—

“Just– be sure to call it in if your chest starts hurting,” Sombra spoke over the comm.

“I know,” said Amélie, walking across the rooftop.

“Flashbacks too. And tunnel vision,” said Sombra, “Any disorientation–”

“You’re acting like I’ve never sat on a roof and aimed a gun before,” said Widowmaker, a bit irritated.

“Technically this is your first mission without Talon pulling your strings,” said Sombra, “Plus, last time we were in Dorado…”

“I know,” said Amélie, her voice a bit softer now, “Don’t worry about me, mon coeur, just focus on getting that intel with the cowboy.”

“Got it,” said Sombra, “You take care.”

“You too,” said Amélie, ending the call.

Widowmaker brought the scope of the rifle up and looked through it. It was a simple two-pronged mission: Harass, distract, and disrupt Los Muertos supply lines throughout the town, drawing their numbers out from Mictlan, allowing Sombra and McCree to grab the intel Sombra insisted was hidden in a terminal in there. Simple enough. She brought down her recon visor, expecting to have the whole thing thrown off whack from Winston’s pitiful attempts at repairs to it, but it worked just as well as it did with Talon.

“This is Lúcio with Bastion,” Lúcio spoke over the comm channel, “First point secured.”

Widowmaker pulled her comm away from her ear for Bastion’s beeping agreement, which always screeched with a bit of feedback over the comm before putting it back in her ear. 

“Excellent work, Dos Santos. Hold position,” Jack spoke over the comm. “Oxton, flank Point B from the southwest.”

“Got it, chief!”

“Widowmaker, do you have visual contact?”

 Widowmaker first turned her scope on a blue flash zipping through the streets. She scanned across the windows then fired off her grapple to a nearby water tower and perched on it for a different vantage point. “Southwestern sector is secure,” she said.

“Can I get a second confirmation on that?” Tracer spoke over the comm. 

“It looks like you’re just going to have to trust me, cherie,” said Widowmaker, looking through the scope at Tracer.

“You’re here and not in a cell, I’d say that’s more than enough trust,” said Tracer. 

“Dial it back, Oxton,” said Jack as Widowmaker turned her scope on Lúcio and Bastion.

“Dos Santos and the Siege unit are confirmed secure,” said Widowmaker.

“All right. Moving out,” said Jack. 

The next several minutes passed with little disruption. It was odd, being on a mission where there wasn’t exactly anyone she had to kill. She found herself continually looking through her own scope at her teammates. She knew not to pull the trigger, but it was sort of force of habit from the vague memories she had of Talon listing targets in her head. She turned her scope onto Jack and let the crosshairs trail up to his head.

“Bang,” she said softly.

Jack suddenly dropped to the ground.

 Amélie lowered her gun in horror. Had she done that? had she killed him? No, there had been no blood. “Morrison?” she quickly rang him up on the comm.

Jack grunted. “I’m fine.”

“What happened?” said Amélie.

“Nothing! I’m fine! Maintain your vantage point!” said Jack. 

“Should I get Lúcio?” said Amélie. 

“I said maintain the vantage point!” said Jack. Widowmaker narrowed her eyes and brought down her recon visor to see Jack’s collapsed figure behind a car.

“You are not strike commander,” said Amélie, firing a grappling hook over in Jack’s direction, “And Winston said to use our own discretion.” She leapt off the roof and retracted the grapple until she reached the opposite building, then rappelled down the side of it easily. Jack was gripping his ankle on the ground with a biotic field glowing around him. He glanced up at her.

“Get back in position,” he said.

“I will,” she said, hauling his arm over her shoulder and firing her grapple back onto the roof.

“You sure that thing can support two—” Jack started but Widowmaker retracted the grapple and both shot up onto the roof. “Watch the leg–watch–” Jack grunted as Widowmaker let go of him and he fell onto the roof, his hand went to his ankle again. Widowmaker swatted his hand away.

“Straighten your leg out,” said Widowmaker.

“What, you’re a medic now?” said Jack, sitting up. 

“Dancer,” said Widowmaker.

“What?” said Jack.

“Does this hurt?” said Widowmaker, moving his foot slightly.

Jack grunted in pain. “Yep–Yeah that hurts.”

“Lateral sprain,” said Widowmaker, “The girls in my studio would get it all the time.”

“Look, I just need another biotic field and—”

“The way you’re using biotics will just make your leg lock up more,” said Amélie, elevating his ankle, “Try and relax.”

Jack scoffed. “You do this sort of thing often?”

“Dancer,” Widowmaker said again. Jack gave her a steady look which prompted her to explain further. “The thing about being a ballerina is,” she said, grabbing a biotic field distributor off of Jack’s belt, “You hurt your feet and legs. A lot. I was lucky enough to be married to a man who could give me access to a steady supply of biotics for myself and other injured dancers in my studio to keep us all on our feet,” she smirked, “Gave us a bit of a competitive edge over other dance companies. Relax your leg.”

“Gérard snuck you biotics?” said Jack.

“I said relax your leg, and yes,” said Amélie “Can’t always call a physical therapist when a show is in 3 hours.” She glanced up at Jack and rolled her eyes, “Oh don’t give me that look. They were his unused own standard issue biotics from missions. They would have gotten thrown out anyway.”

Jack was quiet as Widowmaker carefully pried off his boot. He grunted a bit as she felt around his ankle, then watched as she worked and got the biotic field generator to disperse a more concentrated stream at his ankle.

“How much do you remember?” he asked. 

Widowmaker glanced up, then looked down, “A lot of what Talon did to me either I blocked out myself or is so…” she gestured vaguely at her head, “…affected that I really can’t trust the memory,” she looked out over the city, “But I find I’ve been… remembering more of Gérard… of the time before they made me…” she itched a bit underneath her recon visor, “There hasn’t been a huge rush yet… mostly broken pieces. But there’s more and more of them every day that I can put together.” She was quiet for a while, “I know you don’t trust me,” she said at last.

“Well if you give everyone some time to–”

“It would be stupid to trust me completely. Never trust me completely. I don’t trust me completely,” said Widowmaker, “I know what I can do. Is your comm off?”

“Yeah,” said Jack, “Didn’t want to subject people to an old man complaining about his bum ankle.”

Widowmaker smirked a little before turning her attention back to his ankle. Her smile faded. “If Talon finds some way to activate me again, you need to stop me.”

“I will,” said Jack.

“By any means necessary,” said Widowmaker.

“It’s not going to come to—” Jack started.

“Any means, Jack,” said Widowmaker, looking at him with a furrowed brow, “Take off the visor. Look me in the eye.”

Jack complied and clicked the visor off.

“Give me your word that you won’t let what happened with Gérard happen again,” said Amélie.

“I don’t know if I can—”

“I can’t do it again, Jack,” said Amélie, “I won’t do it again, and if I do it again, then the thing that is doing it again is not me and it needs to be killed. Give me your word that if it comes to that, you’ll stop me. I know Sombra won’t do it so it has to be you.”

Jack sighed. “I won’t let what happened with Gérard happen again,” he said. 

“Good,” said Widowmaker. She glanced down at Jack’s ankle. “Try moving it now.”

Jack rotated his ankle a bit and nodded before pulling his boot back on. “I should… be getting back to Oxton,” said Jack. He cleared his throat. “Thanks.” Amélie nodded and used her grapple to get him back down to street level and gave him cover fire as he ran to the rendezvous point to Tracer. She used her scope to make sure he was running all right, when he suddenly turned, and for a moment it felt as if he was giving her eye contact through the scope. He gave her a small salute and she pulled away from the scope and scoffed. “Pfft. Americans,” she muttered.

[xgestaltx]

“I have you in my sights” by RedGlassesWriter

Wrote a short fic about Mercy and Widowmaker

“Widow, I’m advancing on the target now. Move to operation point  NOW” The harsh rasp of Reaper crackled over Widowmaker’s visor coms. “Roger, advancing on point now” with an effortless sweep of her arm the sniper was air born, sailing through the midday chill of Ecopoint Antarctica. Talon had mobilized based on rumors Sombra had found on the dark web, that Soldier 76 and Shrike had been spotted enroute to the abandoned research station. Widowmaker landed silently at the end of her grapple, readying her rifle she cleared corners as she advanced towards her objective.

“Amiga I have the old bird on security cams. She’s at the operation point, you might want to move it if you don’t want Gabe yelling at us all the way home.” Widowmaker picked up the pace forgoing silence for speed “Merde! Sombra you were supposed to have locked down the facility.”

“Hey puta when you learn how to hack 6 different security countermeasures  at once we can talk, but until then stick to shooting people and eating flies.” Widowmaker rolled her eyes as she burst through the door. At once former captain Ana Amari spun on her heels firing a tranq dart from her pistol. Widow grappled out of the way landing a kick across the aging snipers face on the way down. She crumpled to the floor with a thud. Her biotic sniper rifle clattered to the floor sliding to a stop below the window. "I've arrived at the objective. I have eyes on you" Widow said aloud as she slid her visor into sniping position. She raised her rifle to her eye and saw reaper approaching their quarry. She traced a bead on the back of former Strike Commander Jack Morrison's head. "No, he's mine. Just keep me covered" Reapers low growl rumbled in her ear. Widow maker followed the action, Reaper's shadowy form materialized behind the cautious strike commander, catching him off guard. The blast from his shotgun echoed through the abandoned facility sending Morrison face first into a drift of snow. She could see him reaching for his pulse rifle and instinctively rested her finger upon the trigger of her rifle. Reaper surged forward and drove his boot down on Morrison's hand. "Poor little Jack" Widow could hear Reaper over comms. "You are here, cold and alone. Where is your vaunted overwatch now?" She could see Morrison's head move in response "You'll have to speak up 'commander' I can’t understand you through the bullets in you back" Reaper kicked him over onto his back. Widowmaker could see the old man wince in pain, then something strange happened, she could almost swear he was smiling beneath his mask. Reaper was struck by three pulses of orange light. The black clad leader of Talon jumped back from his former friend, as Morrison was engulfed in golden light.

Widowmaker shielded her eyes against the blinding light. “Widowmaker take the shot!!” Reaper roared as he retreated to cover. She recentered her scope and prepared to fire on the new comer. Her mouth opened in shock as her cross hair landed on Angela Zeigler. “Sombra! You swept the facility non? Why is Mercy here?!” Widowmaker Tensed up as she continued to track the blonde doctor. “I mean, you guys never asked if she was here Araña, soooo i didn’t think it was that important?”

“Mon dieu Sombra, it IS important!” Widow tensed as Reaper rushed towards Mercy

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Jack why did you bring me all the way out here for?” Angela breathed on her hands for warmth as she Jack and Ana entered the old weather research station. “Because doctor, I need a medical expert to investigate the cryo chambers here. There are none better than you.” Jack patted her on the shoulder and forged ahead. “Alright you two I’m going to get a vantage point to keep watch. I have  a bad feeling about this place” Ana drew her hood and headed up a flight of stairs to their right. Angela followed Jack into the cryo room, the same one that held Climatologist Mei-Ling Zhou for the last 10 years. “Here Doctor, can you see if there was any tampering done to these capsules? I still find it hard to believe that Mei and her team were trapped in the same machines yet only she survived. Talon had to have been behind the sabotage” Jack laid a hand sympathetically onto Mei’s cryo tube. “I’m no cryogenics expert Jack, we should have brought Mei along if that’s what you wanted.” Angela looked pensively at her former commander. “I know Angela, but I trust you, and I’m not ready to reveal that Ana and I are alive to the rest of the team just yet. I need more proof about Talon first” He slung his rifle over his shoulder and stepped aside so Angela to could inspect the machine. “Jack, we’ve got a problem, I just spotted Reyes in the facility, I’m going-” Ana’s transmission was cut off abruptly. “Angela stay here, Talon is in the facility. I need to find Ana.” Before she could object Jack had already sprinted out the door. “You must be senile if you think I’m waiting here” Angela’s wing burst defiantly to life as she chased after jack. Angela flew low to the ground to keep closer to cover, because she knew that if Talon had mobilized it meant there was good chance Widowmaker was here. She drifted off into memory as she sped after Jack. Angela had been the doctor that had taken care of Amelie Lacroix upon her rescue. Though she was  not proud of it, she thought fondly of the relationship they had started during her hospital stay. Even now the smell of disinfectant and Amelies hair filled her senses as she relived the final night of their tryst. Before Amelie was discharged, and before she murdered her husband and became the Widowmaker.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Angela was working late in her office at the Overwatch medical center, going over Mrs. Lacroix’s discharge paperwork. Physically she was fine now, but Angela couldn’t help but shake the feeling something wasn’t right. Amelie had passed the psych evaluation, almost too well for a victim of such extreme torture. Angela buried her face in her hands, guilt set in as she thought of the illicit relationship she shared with her soon to be former patient. Had she passed Amelie’s psych eval because she really was alright, or because she wanted Amelie to be alright? The silence of the room began to creep into Angela amplifying the screaming in her head that she had broken her vows as a doctor.

A gentle knocking at her office door snapped Angela back to attention. “Come in” Angela did her best to mask the self loathing in her voice behind a smile. The door opened slowly, as a slender leg emerged from the hallway. Amelie glided gracefully into the office, shutting and locking the door behind her. Amelie was clad in nothing but her hospital gown. “Doctor, I’m here for my physical” the coo of her accent sent chills down Angela’s spine as she advanced upon the doctor. “Amelie we shou-” Angela’s sentence was stopped by a finger placed seductively upon her lips. Before she could protest further Amelie brought her into a deep kiss. “Shh, cherie, no more words” Amelie pulled away, Angela leaning forward chasing for more. Amelie reached behind her neck undoing the tie on her hospital gown, Angela gasped as it hit the floor.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A shotgun blast rang out through the facility, snapping Angela back to reality. She rounded the corner in time to see Reaper level his shotgun at Jack’s head. In a swift motion she drew her pistol and fired 3 bolts of light, striking Reaper square in the chest, making him retreat in surprise. Angela planted her staff bathing Jack in biotic healing light. “Gabriel! Stand down, let me help you!” Angela leveled her pistol against Reaper. He dissolved into a mist and surged forward, Angela grimaced and fired again, her shots passing harmlessly through him. Widow maker watched as Reaper reformed strangling Mercy and lifting her into the air. “Move an inch Jack and I snap her neck” Reaper snarled as he aimed a shotgun at Morrison, who had retrieved his rifle. Widowmaker froze, seeing Mercy struggle against Reaper’s grip brought her panic.

“Hey Araña, you might wanna shoot some one already” Sombra’s voice crackled over comms.

“Quoi? Say again Sombra” Widowmaker snapped out of her panic for a moment. “Are you deaf Araña? Shoot someone, I don’t care who, just make a decision and pull the trigger”

Angela struggled against Reaper’s icy grip. “Gabriel, please. Stop this I can help you.” She choked the words out. “You’ve done enough Zeigler. Your precious biotics did this to me, I won’t let you do it again.” Reaper tightened his grip. The world began to go dark, Reaper’s skull mask went out of focus as she began to lose consciousness. Suddenly Reaper’s grip went limp and he slumped backwards, dropping Angela into the snow. She coughed hard as air rushed back into her lungs. “Thanks for the save Ana” there was no response. “Ana?” Angela looked around, vision still blurry. “Shhh, Cherie, no more words” the voice speaking caused all the air to escape Angela’s lungs once again. Tears welled up in Angela’s eyes “Thank you Amelie” Widowmaker dropped the biotic pistol and retracted  her visor. She exhaled deeply as she went towards the door. “HOOOOOOOO MAN! Araña! That was great! Gabe is gonna be sooooooooooooooo pissed when he wakes up!” Sombras laughter rang in her ear. “Tais-toi Sombra, let’s go before their reinforcements arrive. Reaper can find his own way home.” Widowmaker walked through the door shutting it behind her. Sombra leaned back and spun in her seat in the security office, a wide smile on her face “I’m happy for you Amelie” she shut off the computer and went to meet her friend.      

[deathtouch]

⋆ femfeb day 11 // my femfeb masterpost ⋆ xposted to ao3 ⋆ tracer/widowmaker // 3k // teen ⋆ au, tattoo parlor au, tattoos, flirting, pain ⋆ lena gets her first tattoo

A Golden Swallow

Lena pulled the shop door open, stepping into Talon Tattoo Inc. The soft buzz of tattoo machines that filled the room made the pit of her stomach twist with anticipation. She had been researching tattoo shops and artists for the better part of a week, scrolling through Instagram and Facebook to find a nice local place that would suit her.

Talon Tattoo Inc. seemed to be well regarded. They had three steady artists all with impeccable portfolios and according to their facebook they brought in guest artists pretty regularly. Without an appointment she was rolling the dice as to which artist she would get, but she felt alright with that.

The walls in the shop were covered in flash art. A jewelry case on one side of the room held different types of body jewelry including many different sizes of gauges. She wanted to look at everything, but at the same time she didn’t want to seem too eager.

“Can I help you?” One of the artists asked. He was sitting at a leather table, half bent over the body of his client. He had a tattoo machine in his black gloved hands. Lena remembered the names of the artists from the website. Though they weren't pictured the portfolios of Gabriel, Sombra, and Amélie were all online. She guessed this was Gabriel.

“Have you got time for a walk in?” Lena asked hopefully.

“Give me one second.” Gabriel said to his canvas. He set his machine down and stood up, stripping the latex gloves from his hands. He was wearing a dark hoody with long sleeves but Lena could see that he was tattooed everywhere, down to his knuckles. As he came closer she noticed that even his neck was tattooed. He walked over to the counter nearby and looked at her skeptically for a second. “You eighteen?”

Lena frowned. “I’m twenty six.”

“What are you looking to get?” He continued, glazing over the fact that he had just miscalculated her age by almost a full decade.

“A traditional swallow.” She told him.

“How big?” As he spoke, the artist gathered together a clipboard and a pen and a couple of forms.

“Oh.” They were already getting into specifics. It hit her that this was really happening. She was really about to get a tattoo. She lost her words for a moment but quickly found them again. “Two or three inches? I’m not sure.”

“Sombra, are you almost done?” Gabriel asked, looking over his shoulder at a female currently tattooing away at a bench across the room. One side of her head was closely shaved and the rest of her hair came down in vibrant purple curls. She had plenty of piercings too, bright purple acrylics capping the barbells in her ears and face. Lena remembered her portfolio, a comprehensive mix of new school and realistic styles.

Sombra seemed to regard the tattoo she was working on for a few seconds, wiping at it with a paper towel. “Eh. Another ten, twenty minutes maybe? Amélie should be free right now though.”

Gabriel turned back to Lena. "Alright. Fill this out. Someone will be with you in a little bit, just sit tight.” He handed the clipboard over.

Lena took the clipboard and moved to sit on a wooden bench by the shop window.

“Amélie,” Gabriel went wandering towards the back of the shop. He ducked his head into what was clearly a back room. Lena could just barely hear him speaking. “There’s a walk-in up front.”

After that he went back to the leather bench his client was laying on. Lena watched curiously as he pulled on a new pair of gloves and settled in, speaking in a low voice about how they were almost finished with shading.

She turned her attention to the first page of the clipboard. It was a waiver and consent form. There were several bullet points she had to initial by. She confirmed she wasn’t a hemophiliac, she had no communicable diseases, she wasn’t under the influence of drugs and alcohol, she didn’t have any allergies, she understood that variations in color and design may occur during application, she understood the tattoo was permanent and that she was definitely over eighteen. She signed off on all of it, adding her signature at the bottom of the page. The next form was an emergency contact sheet. Although she had no plans of fainting or passing out, she filled out the contact info anyway.

When she was done she stood, awkwardly lingering by the counter. The other artists were clearly busy working, she didn’t want the bother them. Just as she was about to speak up when a woman came walking out from the back of the shop. Lena’s heart flopped in her chest. She was absolutely certain that this was the most beautiful girl she’d ever seen in her life.

She was already almost six foot tall, but she had on impossibly high heels and a dangerously high ponytail making her seem even taller. Her hair came down to the small of her back, a whip of black so dark it was almost blue. Her arms were elegantly decorated in tattoos, including gothic script and spider web designs that looked almost minimal in their aesthetic. Her golden eyes, piercingly bright compared to the dark clothes and hair and ink on her skin, locked with Lena’s. Lena thought she might faint after all.

“Hello there,” The tattoo artist walked over to greet her, offering a perfectly manicured hand to shake. “My name is Amélie, what type of tattoo are you interested in getting?”

“Uh,” Lena could feel her stupid freckled face blushing. As if Amélie wasn’t beautiful  enough she had to tie everything together with a panty-dropping French accent too? Lena barely managed to stick out her hand to shake with and it took her a long moment to even realize she’d been asked a question. “Oh! I- swallow!”

Amélie stared straight at her for a moment before her lips twitched into a slight smile. “Oui, cherie? What else do you do with your mouth?” She asked, leaning in.

Lena was already blushing but this sent a fresh burst of heat across her face and all down her neck. Her brain was short circuiting, still stunned by the beauty of Amélie and all mixed up with embarrassment from misspeaking, the thrill of flirting, and the nervousness of her first tattoo. She couldn’t even squeak a reply, her mouth moved in the effort to form words but nothing came out.

Amélie saved her by moving on with a different question, one significantly less flirtatious in nature. “A swallow, hm? Are you a sailor?”

Lena breathed. She could actually answer this. “A midshipman actually, in the Feet Air Arm branch of the Royal Navy. 809 Naval Air Squadron. I fly F-35B’s.” It was easy for her to talk about her service. She could yammer on about her rank and MOS with absolute ease. She was still blushing bright red but at least she had managed to put a couple of cohesive sentences together.

“Ah,” Amélie regarded her carefully. “A pilot. A bird is a good choice then. Do you have a reference photo?”

Amélie’s French accent was so deliciously thick that Lena didn’t quite catch the word ‘reference’ at first. “Oh, yes!” She said a second later, quickly taking her phone out from her pants pocket. Traditional swallow tattoos mostly looked the same but she had found a few that she especially liked online. She had the pictures saved to her phone. Lena pulled one up and passed her cell over.

Amélie looked at it and nodded. “You want color?”

“Gold and orange and a little blue, if that’s okay?” Lena said hopefully. Most swallow tattoos already were those colors; golden-yellow wings, red bellies and blue bodies. “Like this but orange instead on the bottom here,” She said, pointing to the spot of red color in the one Amélie was looking at on her phone.

“D’accord. About what size?” Amélie asked.

“Maybe, the size of my palm?” Lena suggested, clearly sounding unsure. She didn’t know what size was good for a tattoo like this.

Amélie only nodded again. “Where will you get it?”

“My ribs.” Lena said definitively. She wasn't sure about the other details but she knew this much. She wanted it on her ribs on her right side.

“Ah, you must like pain, cherie.” Amélie teased her.

Of course Lena found herself blushing again. How could she not? No one had ever flirted with her this much in her entire life, much less a complete bombshell like Amélie was. “I-“

“Is this your first tattoo?” Amélie interrupted her before she could speak.

“Yeah,” Lena admitted. She knew she wasn’t being judged, Amélie needed to know if she had done this before. Still, it felt kind of awkward to be the only person in the entire shop who wasn’t covered in tattoos. Even the people getting worked on now had plenty of their skin already covered.

“Rib tattoos are very painful.” Amélie told her. “Are you certain?”

“Yeah.” Lena said the word again with a little more force this time. “I can handle it.”

Amélie looked her up and down before seemingly allowing it. “It will be two hundred dollars. If that’s acceptable then I can get to work drawing it.”

“Two hundred’s fine.” Lena nodded.

“Please, have a seat.” Amélie gestured to where Lena had been sitting before. She switched off her phone and handed it back before heading towards the back of the shop. Lena definitely watched her walk away.

On her way towards the back Amélie stopped to lean over Sombra’s shoulder and looked at her work. “Magnifique.” She said softly. Sombra grinned as she continued tattooing.

Lena took a seat. She nervously chewed on her bottom lip and tried to keep her leg from jiggling. She was known to be a ball of energy, the type of person that bounced off the walls. This was especially true for when she was nervous or excited. The last thing she wanted to do was make herself an annoyance so she tried to stay still but it was hard.

She watched Sombra and Gabriel as they worked. When Sombra finished, Lena got to see it as her canvas stood up and limped over towards a nearby mirror. She gasped and uttered words of praise and happiness upon seeing the finished product of her calf tattoo. She was so happy. Tracer couldn’t wait to be that happy too.

It took almost half an hour for Amélie to return. It was just as incredible to see her for a second time as it was the first. She was so stunningly beautiful. She had a piece of tracing paper in her hands that she brought over for Lena to see. Drawn perfectly in thick black lines was a swooping swallow, wings spread wide. It was perfect. It emulated that traditional Sailor Jerry style that made Lena’s heart swell.

“I love it.” Lena whispered.

“Too small?” Amélie asked.

Lena shook her head at once. “No, no. It’s good.“

“Come back to my station.” Amélie nodded towards an empty leather bench. Lena could tell it had been recently sanitized by the feint alcohol smell. Also, she had seen Sombra wiping her work space down immediately after finishing a tattoo so she assumed the same thing had happened here. Amélie was getting things ready. “Take off your shirt.” She ordered.

Lena swallowed hard, heart leaping in her chest. “What?”

Amélie looked at her with a soft touch of amusement on her face. “Or have you changed your mind about your ribs?”

“Oh, no.” Of course she turned bright red again because she just couldn’t stop herself. She slid her white t-shirt up over her head, messing up her already messy brown hair. She didn’t think about the fact that she would have to take her shirt off or she would have worn a cuter bra. She also didn’t know her tattoo artist was going to be the most beautiful woman in the world.

Amélie reached out, gently lifting Lena’s arm. She stared looked hard at the side of her body as if gauging a good place. “Here?” She asked, holding the tracing paper up to Lena’s ribcage in suggestion. Lena glanced down. That seemed okay. She actually wasn’t too picky about where on her ribs. Just somewhere she could hide under her clothes. It was about an inch or two below her bra strap and that seemed like a fine place for a swallow.

“Sure,” She nodded.

“D’accord. Stand still, cherie. Keep your arm up.” Amélie pulled on a pair of black latex gloves. She cleaned a patch of Lena’s skin with rubbing alcohol first and then some kind of green liquid, wiping it on with a paper towel. It smelled like how hospitals smell, making Lena’s nose twitch. Amélie brought a disposable razor to Lena’s skin next. In a few quick swipes she shaved away any little hairs there, though Lena wasn’t sure she had any on that part of her body.

Amélie then lined up the stencil, carefully eyeing the placement before sticking the paper to Lena’s damp skin. She smoothed it down. She was rather business-like and clinical with her touch but Lena still felt tingles run down her spine. She couldn’t believe she was half naked, having her ribs stroked by someone so beautiful. Right now that was actually outweighing the excitement of getting a tattoo.

Amélie stepped back, looking at the placement from a distance. “Check in the mirror if this is where you want it.” She said, pointing to the nearby full length mirror. Lena walked over, arm raised up above her head. She glanced at her reflection, turning to the side to see it. Her heart leapt. It was already so beautiful and it was just a blue outline.

“It’s good.” She said as she walked back to the bench.

“C’est bon.” Amélie repeated the sentiment in French. “Lay down on your side then and we can start.”

Lena climbed on to the leather bench and laid out flat on her left side, offering up her ribs. Her heart had done so many leaps and plummets and now it was hammering a mile a minute. She was excited and scared and she couldn’t help nervously chewing her lip.

“I’m going to start here.” Amélie told her, touching the stencil swallow's wing tip with her finger. “It might feel like I’m tattooing all the way into your stomach but I’m not. When I reach the other side it might feel like I’m tattooing your back but it’s all right here on your ribs. If you need to cough or change position or move tell me first, oui? We can stop and take a break if you need to but no crying allowed.”

Lena smiled at that last part. “Got it.”

As she spoke Amélie had readied her tattoo machine. This included taking a large needle out from its sterile wrapped packaging. She opened a can of Vaseline, gobbing some onto her wrist. She swiped a tiny amount and massaged it into Lena’s skin. It felt a little like being tickled. “Take a deep breath.” Amélie told her. There was a cap nearby all loaded up with black ink and she dipped the tattoo machine in, turning it on.

Lena breathed in deep.

The needle touched her skin. The tattooing began. It hurt like hell, but it wasn’t worse than she could manage. She thought maybe it would feel like she was being poked or stuck with a pin but it was more like being scratched. Her face twisted up a little with the pain of it but she held fast. She could totally handle this.

“Alright?” Amélie asked her, not stopping.

Lena almost nodded her head but thought better of moving at the last second. “No problem.” She said over the noise of the machine.

In the beginning it definitely wasn’t a problem either. It hurt but she managed it and Amélie kept right on working. It was just that it kept hurting, and kept hurting, and kept hurting. There was no relief. Sometimes the pain was a little sharper than others. It felt like the needle was digging especially deep into her skin but Lena knew that couldn't be. She found herself clenching her jaw tight and nervously balling her hands into fists.

Every once in a while Amélie would swipe over the skin she was working on with a damp paper towel. Almost as often she would rub Vaseline over the freshly tattoos flesh. Both those actions hurt worse than the needle itself.

Lena spent a long time staring at the flash art nearby on the wall. She learned the intricacies of a sheet full of Death's Head moths and traditional skulls. She wished she had a better distraction, something to take her mind off the pain. She would have stared at Amélie’s face if she could but she wasn’t really in the best position to do so.

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, sucking it up as the tattoo machine scratched away at her. She sat patiently as Amélie changed out needles, readied some gold and orange and blue paint, and switched out her gloves. Then it was time for the color. Lena quickly learned how much more painful that was. The outline of black had been on her untouched skin, the color was going over and around the tender tattooed skin. It was literally digging into fresh wounds.

“Oh bloody hell.” Lena groaned, squeezing her eyes tight.

She thought she heard Amélie laugh at her but she wasn’t sure. When she peeked her eyes open the tattoo artist only had the hint of a smile on her face.

She didn’t have to suffer forever though. Eventually the tattoo was finished. Amélie did have to go back over a few areas more than once which was true torture but even that ended too. Amélie cleaned up the tattoo, wiping away the blood and ink and then coating it in Vaseline.

"Have a look." She said, sliding back in her chair.

Gingerly, Lena sat up. Her ribs on her right side ached. She carefully made her way to the mirror, awkwardly holding arm up over her head. She took a look at her reflection and she gasped. The tattoo was red and splotchy, skin reacting to the pain it had been put through. Remnants of ink were wiped all down her side turning her flesh grey. The tattoo itself was puffy and pink around the edges. Still, it was beautiful. She could see through the mess to the wonder and amazement that was her new tattoo. It would heal to be a true piece of art.

Lena found herself tearing up just a little. She had wanted this tattoo since the day she had joined the Royal Navy. After graduating from boot her entire squadron went to go get 809 tattoos. She had waited, refusing to get inked if it wasn't the swallow she wanted.

"Happy?" Amélie asked.

Lena nodded and blinked away the tears before they could properly form. "It's perfect." She insisted. There was no way Amélie could know how perfect it was, or how this tattoo was exactly what Lena wanted.

"Good," Amélie beckoned Lena back over to where she was sitting at her station. "Let me bandage it." She pulled out some large pads of medical gauze and white medical tape.

It hurt a little to have the gauze pressed into her fresh tattoo. Lena stared down at Amélie's face, studying the beauty of it, pleasantly distracted as the bandages were taped into place. Amélie gingerly helped her put her shirt back on.

In her heavy French accent she went over the aftercare information. Lena needed to leave the bandage on over night and then clean her new tattoo with hot water and unscented soap tomorrow morning. She was supposed to pat it dry, not rub it with a towel, and coat it with a thin layer of unscented lotion every day. No swimming, no soaking, no scratching at it and no picking the scabs that would eventually form.

Lena found herself nodded eagerly, watching Amélie's mouth, and completely zoning out as she spoke. Her brain was definitely thinking of other things as she stared at her tattoo artists' flawless face. Thankfully when Amélie finished bandaging the tattoo she handed Lena a sheet of paper with aftercare rules bulleted on it.

When it was all said and done Amélie walked her to the front of the shop. They passed Sombra who says tattooing away on another walk-in and Gabriel who was still finishing that shading. Lena could see that he was working on a very impressive scrawling back piece.

Lena paid for her tattoo, the two hundred she owed plus an extra hundred dollar tip. She wasn't actually sure how much to tip artists, but she knew the value of good gratuity. This tattoo was everything she wanted and absolutely priceless to her, she had no problem adding a hundred dollars more to her total. When Amélie counted out the cash she raised up her eyebrow.

"The rest is for you." Lena said.

"Merci, cherie." Amélie leaned across the counter and bestowed French bisous on Lena's cheeks, two chaste kisses that made her heart race. "Come back again, oui?" Amélie offered her business card with a piece of her art on the front and the shop name on the back.

Lena took it. She hadn't planned on getting any tattoos besides this one. She would come back to the shop though. Right after she worked up the courage to ask Amélie on a date.

[ahorita-blog1]

tag set.

[shadowsoverwatchblog]

A Lovely Night of Shadows

Day 1 Theme (a) First meeting & Theme (b) First Date

SFW (Slightly Suggestive)

Word count approx (2470)

After several months on tour across the world, Shadow can now take his 3 week leave and catch some peace and quiet from all the bloodshed and pain he had to endure during those months. As he stepped out of the drop ship several other agents that flew with him rushed out to the terminal to meet their friends and loved ones. Pharah was standing waiting patiently for her mother to come out and see her. Reinhardt tapped him asking if he may pass, of course Shadow stepped aside and let him through “Ahahaha my friends what's with all this standing around, it has been so long!” his voice echoed throughout the base. The rest soon followed leaving him and Jack to be the last two. “Where will you go for the next few weeks?” Jack asked as he was about to step off. “France. I have a favor to do for a friend. What about you sir?” he replied. “A soldier's work never ends, you should know that. I’ll probably be here on base doing paperwork… You don’t have to call me sir anymore those days are over.” Shadow shook his hand before grabbing his bags and headed for his plane. “Get some rest Will you’ve earned it.” Shadow turned but, jack was already gone. “Yes sir”  he muttered to himself. The next drop ship to France landed on the landing pad and a line of agents began forming. Shadow saw a few other agents board including a few who were on tour with him. Shadow took his seat and closed his eyes and awaited yet another flight to his destination.

The drop ship slowly descended down to the landing pad and Shadow could already see the Eiffel Tower from his window. He grabbed his bags and proceeded to the terminal to find numerous other agents wandering around. Shadow walked outside to find a sea of cars building up on the roads. He walked toward the Private Overwatch cars instead of waiting for a cab. Shadow placed his right hand on the driver window, “Access granted bienvenue en France [1] Shadow”. He loaded his bags and drove off to the private hotel.

*At the hotel*  As soon as he got there the place was lit up like Time’s Square. He parked the car and grabbed his bags to check in. “Bonjour, je voudrais une chambre.[2]” The woman behind the counter looked at him and asked “Votre nom [3]?”

“William Nightingale” as he pulled out his ID. She smiled and handed him his key “Merci et j'espère que vous apprécierez votre séjour [4]” He took the key and proceeded to his room. He opened the door and walked in and slowly shut the door behind him. The room was luxurious floor made of marble, couches made of white leather, a black glass dining table sat at the center of the room, 55 inch plasma screen TV, and full kitchen. He turned and walked to the bedroom to set down his bags and glance over at the balcony. The view was breathtaking the Eiffel tower in perfect view with the rest of the beautiful city landscape surrounding him. Shadow reaches into his bag to get a fresh set of clothes along with  silver cross and a dog tag and places them on the night stand. “Might as well take a shower before I head out” he muttered. As the steam cleared up he wipes the mirror to reveal the scar that run across his right eye on his face and begins to get dressed. A midnight blue collared shirt, silver vest, midnight blue slacks, and black oxfords. He grabs the cross and dog tag and puts them in his vest pocket before heading out back to the car. “Off to Les Valides I go” as he starts the car and dashes off.

*At the cemetery*

As shadow closes the door a sense of sadness rolls over him, his heart slowly beats as the wind slowly breezes by his face. He walks around in search of the grave for his fallen comrade. Pual de Sant 1998-2024. Shadow kneels down and pulls out the silver cross and his tag. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. If only I was faster…” He rested his head on top of the gravestone then stood up and saluted. “Reste en paix ma vieille amie [5]” Shadow checked his watch to see time it is. “Hmm 10:00 o’clock in the evening already.” He decided to take a trip to the bar and catch a drink before heading back.

*At the bar*

E BAR, FOUR SEASONS GEORGE V a place where Shadow and his comrades shared a number of drinks together whenever they were in Paris.As Shadow walked in, he can hear the sound of voices echoing throughout the establishment the scent of fine wine and liquor engulfed the room. He found a empty bar stool and took a seat. “Oi’ William bonjuor!” Shadow looked up to see his old friend and smiled “Bonjour Noe! How have you been?” “Good business as usual. Where are the rest of the boys? Or are all them on leave elsewhere.” Shadow looked down at the bar table And pulled out a photograph of him and his squadron, “Kicks, Hunter, and Pual are dead. Jesse, and Bishop have been medically discharged. I’m all that's left.” Noe set down the glass he was cleaning and reached for the photograph, “I’m sorry Will I know how close you guys were, they were all truly the bravest men I know.” “Thanks Noe they would’ve wanted me to celebrate, to live on for them, to tell their story.” Noe pinned the photo on the wall along with several others. “So William the usual? Old fashioned? Old Overholt rye?” “That would be much appreciated thanks.” “Of course Will” he smiled and turned to mix his drink. Shadow looked down at his watch again and then looked up to find his drink right in front of him. He picked it up and took a sip of his drink and then set it down wiping his lips. “Well, Well, Well, look who do we have here?” Shadow turned to his right  to find Widowmaker sitting right next to him holding a wine glass in her hand. Her yellow cat like eyes trained on his and a smug look on her face. “If it isn’t the Shadow himself.” He looked to his left to find Sombra holding a glass of tequila with the same look. “If you do not mind I’d like to finish my drink and take this outside. You can do whatever you so please then. Widow gave a light chuckle before setting her wine glass on the table and grew closer to him. “You are afraid are you not?” Shadow took another sip of his drink and set it down “No, I’m not. I’m actually surprised Talon would send for their best assassin to kill me now while I’m on leave.” he replied. “Hm tell me, do you really think I was hired to kill you now? And if I did don’t you think you’d be dead already?” She was right if she wanted to she could’ve killed him before he even got close to the bar. Plus why would she need another agent to help her? She’s Talon’s top assassin for a reason. “Oye I still can’t get anything on him, his phone is dark, I can’t even get past the first firewall.” Sombra broke in. “That’s because I already know who you are and I rigged mine to a whole new frequency” Sombra raised an eyebrow.  “Yes and I am well aware of who you are, ma dame. Amelie Lacroix, or now known as Widowmaker. You were kidnapped by Talon brainwashed and enhanced to become their top assassin. Your first assignment was to kill your husband Gerard Lacroix from there you were sent to kill Mondatta, Ana Amari, and you, Sombra and Reaper were both sent to try and assassinate Katya Volskaya, and now I dare ask, what do you want from me?” Widow rimmed the top of her wine glass. “Hmm it seems that your superiors provide you with a heavy amount of details about me but what about her?” as she pointed to Sombra. “Hmph …. Or Sombra is it that most call you now?” just as Shadow said her actual name she eyes widened as she looked as she was about to draw her gun but, widow ordered not to. “Calmate senorita I won’t speak of it again. Now where was I? right, sombra you were an orphan in Mexico trying to live in life hacking your way up until you were picked up by the Los Muertos gang and you hacking spree went viral from Lumerico to Volskaya Industries. At some point you were picked up by Talon due to your impressive hacking skills. Unfortunately I do not recall any other information but, that’s all I need to know anyways.” Both looked at each other in astonishment. “And so I politely ask, if you are not here to kill me what are you here for?” Widow moved her right leg and rested it on Shadows stool “Well you certainly know all about us, however we can not get anything from you. Even my companion can not find anything about you and you’ve certainly piqued her interest quite a bit. So why don’t you come with us on a stroll. Paris is lovely this time of year you know?” Widow drew nearer to Shadows face.“Well ma cheri?” she gave him a wink and sat back. Shadow downed the rest of his drink. As he got up he left a few bills under his glass. Sombra hopped off her stool wondering what was going to happen. Shadow lent a hand to Widow to which she took and got off her stool. “Apres vous. [6]”

*Outside*

Well this is something Shadow didn’t see coming. He was actually having a stroll with two Talon agents. Especially the cold blooded assassin Widowmaker. “So um-” “William or Will if you want.” “Will how is it that you know my actual name?” Sombra asked. William smiled “A man can’t tell you all of his secrets.” Sombra gave him a teasing shove on his shoulder. “Sombra why don’t you ask him something else, this is your chance to actually get to know him.” Sombra sighed before asking, “Ugh fine, how did you lock your phone to how it is now?” Widow rolled her eyes in embarrassment. “What you said to ask him something else?” Shadow took out his phone “Don’t worry it’s fine. Well you see. I changed the diagnostics of my phone and any of my electronics to filter out any unknown sources hence it blacks out on you.” Sombra waved her hand at her face “Dios mio it is hard to find people who can hide like that. I like it.” “Well Ms Lacroix?” “Hmmm? Wait did you just call me-” “I don’t like to call people by their call signs unless they prefer it or just don’t want me to call them by their real name. Something wrong with that?” Widow looked away “N-No I just didn’t think I would hear that name again. So what did you do before you joined, them…?” Shadow pulls out a rifle bullet out of his pocket “I hunted a lot so much that I have trophies all over my home. Bears, Wolves, Elk, whatever was game. I just feel like my life revolves around me and a sniper rifle. It’s just a part of me now. I can’t escape it so I embrace it.” “What about your hacking and programming where did that come from?” sombra piped in, “It’s just something I taught myself. Ever since the Omnic crisis I changed my electronics to prevent hacks.” “So I heard you’ve killed many Talon agents before have you not?” He looked at his rifle round before finally replying, “Yes, yes I have. My rifle, my knives, my bare hands, even my uniform. They’re all stained with blood of the many that I’ve killed. I think about those I’ve murdered and if I have any regrets for it.” when William said that widow’s heart stopped for a brief moment. “I know you’re still thinking about him. That no matter how much brainwashing they do to you ,somewhere in the back of your mind you still care for Gerard. You can deny it all you want because of it but in the end you truly do care... I’m not going to go anymore further than that since I know if I do I’ll be dead right where I stand now.” Sombra took a few steps back in fear that he could be right. Widow stood hands on the railing with her head down and her eyes closed. A single tear shed from her right eye, slowly streaking across her blue face. Shadow reached for his handkerchief to wipe her face. “If I die now by your hands, I don’t care, all I care is that I’ve finally brought peace to you and that’s all that matters to me now.” Widow wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Her cold blue lips locked with his warm ones, Shadow wrapped his right arm around her waist and slowly dipped her beneath the dark moonlight night, the cold breeze flowing past their faces. “You do not care if my body is cold?” Shadow smiled and swept her off the floor. “No I don’t because I want you to feel mine so I can finally bring warmth to yours...That and I’m from Alaska so I’m used to the cold” he chuckled. Shadow set widow down and she held him as tight as she could. “So um what about me?” Sombra bit her lip. Widow gave her the finger to come so she did. This whole time they were walking, Widow had led them all to the Eiffel Tower and they all embraced each other's company underneath the dark moonlight sky on one of the most romantic places on Earth.

(So yes this is quite long I know. I’m not the best writer but this is my first story drabble so feel free to give me some pointers and what not. I really would appreciate the feedback. If you have any questions about my OC just look at my blog you’ll be sure to find him. Thank you and I hope you enjoy! -Shadow)

Translations

Welcome to France

Hello I would like a room

Your Name?

Thank you and I hope you enjoy your stay

Rest in peace my old friend

After you.