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vishwa789-blog · 5 years

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hufflepuffhollander · 4 years

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fire and gasoline (mob!tom series) ch. 1: new vendetta

a/n | wooo buckle in this is a wild ride 😼 and pls share w the world! i’m proud of this one!

synopsis | Your family runs a sect of the british mafia. Tom Holland is the son of the mob leader in your rival gang. You’ve been groomed to be at each other’s throats for as long as you can remember, and a chance run-in after over a decade of feuding and secrecy has you questioning everything you thought you knew.

cw | mob!tom au. enemies to lovers. language, angst, death threats, objectification, sexual tension, and lots of spit. 3.1k words.

read the prologue, join the taglist :)

Roxy’s was your spot- it always had been. The dark alleyway entrance, the smoky air inside that concealed who you truly were, the faceless regulars that just knew to leave you be- it was everything you could want in a local bar. So, instead of somewhere a little cheerier, you chose here; instead of a glimmering club with strobe effects to blind you and music loud enough to burst your eardrums, you decided to spend your birthday where you knew you could melt into the blackness of the night and live mess-free, even if it was just for a few hours.

You had just gotten your second round of drinks with a few friends, your heels clicking from across the room as you wandered over to your table with freshly topped off shot glasses. A brand new, skin-tight black dress paired with electric blue heels adorned you, and the birthday glow radiating across your skin had you looking and feeling like absolutely nothing could bring you down. You were celebrating, you had just landed a major deal with a supplier to your casino; and better yet, you hadn’t heard from the Hollands in weeks. Since their failed attempt at taking out your father during a high-profile event, they had been lying low, full of shame. A recent victory for your family in the never-ending turf war with the Hollands? Not a single mention of Dom or Nikki thwarting your plans in days? Well, that was the best birthday present a girl could ask for.

You barely had time to feel the gin roll down your throat before the bar door was shoved open, bells tied in a knot overhead chiming ominously as it felt like a tornado had blown in. The room fell quiet, the punkish music on repeat seeming to mute itself. Even the smoke moving through the air was put on pause. Everyone was eyeballing the doorway, where two heavily armed young men stood rigidly; right behind them, a pale, muscular boy with the scent of his own ego radiating off him, a slick smile painted across his face. Every part of your body suddenly felt ice cold.

The boy took off his glasses, the sheer notion that he was wearing wayfarers at night making you groan, and coated the room with his gaze until it landed—and stayed—on you. You tried to avert your attention but couldn’t, as a wave of realization fell over you when he made eye contact. You knew this fuckwad. It was Tom Holland- the son of your rival mob, the boy your father always told you to imagine a target was when learning to sharpshoot...the one who had orchestrated the failed assassination of your dad. Your belly filled with a white-hot fire at the audacity he had to show his face here. Who did he think he was? What the hell was he doing on the East side? And did he know he had just walked into his own execution?

You would’ve seen it through, too, had he not been about to strike you square in the face with a curveball.

“We’re closed.” you heard Roxy spit out, not even bothering to look at the boys as she dried a glass.

“Doesn’t seem like it, babe,” Tom sneered, flashing her an insincere smile and focusing his attention back on you. “And anyway, we aren’t staying; I just came here with a message for the birthday girl.”

You fantasized about a knife appearing on the table in front of you so you could slice the little bitch to shreds for even daring to acknowledge you. But no such luck.

Tom whisked past the bar front, taking his time to saunter over towards your booth. You had bribed your security guard to let you take the night off- he was only there because of your dad’s doing, so he could breathe easier when you were out of his sight. But you hated feeling like a little kid needing to be babysat, especially tonight, when you were turning a year older, and paid him off to get doped up with a friend instead of coming with you. You were kicking yourself for that decision now, watching Tom come up to you without a hint of fear in his dark, shimmering eyes.

You hadn’t seen him since you were kids, when you had told everyone you were getting married to the cute boy you played with and exchanged candy rings with him in your backyard.

“My my, what an impressive array of barbies,” Tom laughed as he stopped in front of your table, swiping his tongue across his teeth. “any of you pretty things looking to blow this joint?”

Your few friends looked simultaneously revolted and terrified, and you knew they lived their lives too sugarcoated to witness the interaction you were about to have.

“Girls, you should leave,” you said, giving them a concerned stare, and it took them less than a second to get up and bolt. Some real friends you had.

You tried to remain composed as you turned your attention to Tom, syllables seething through your gritted teeth. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”

“Aww, baby, that’s no way to greet an old friend, is it? ‘Coulda least let me wish you a happy birthday,” he sat down on the bench across from you, making you recoil into your seat. “I even have a candle you can blow, if you like.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, asshole.”

“Well someone just isn’t feeling very sentimental, hmm? You remember all those years ago, playing hide and go seek in your mansion, holding hands under the dinner table...I think I remember you having it pretty bad for me back then-”

“You must have a death wish, huh?” you cut him off, standing up and advancing towards him, but taking a step back as he stood up to meet you and towered over you menacingly. He smelled like cigar smoke and cherry aftershave and it clouded your thoughts. You’d always said you’d kill him if he ever got this close to you. Why were you faltering now when it mattered most? Your heart couldn’t keep up with your head.

“No, doll. Not tonight, and definitely not in a place like this. But I gotta admit, I was not expecting you to look so fucking good after all these years. Pop had me believing you were some kind of ugly recluse. Makes it extra difficult for me to tell you to give daddy a call before your birthday is over,” his eyes hungrily flicked over you in your dress, making your blood boil. “y’know, tell him you love him.”

“The hell are you talking about?” you reached for your purse where your pistol was lodged, but felt a cold piece of metal touch the back of your head, halting your movements.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” said minion #1, standing behind you with the barrel of his gun nestled into your curled hair. You swallowed nervously and felt your heart rate skyrocket. The bar seemed to have emptied out; it was just you, Tom, and the promise of death caressing your scalp, and you had nowhere to go.

“Hey, now, Harrison, there’s no need for that! y/n and I go way back,” Tom said, motioning for his friend to lower the weapon. Deeply buried flashbacks of child you linked arm in arm with child Tom flicked through your mind, memories you had suppressed long ago.

“Love,” Tom started, advancing towards you again, leaving you nowhere to go if you didn’t want gun grease staining your head. “I’m simply hinting that you may want to get out any last sentiments before we bleed him out on his crisp white sheets tonight.”

Your eyes widened in panic, and your words came out stuttered. “Y-you’re bluffing-”

“You so sure of that, baby?” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, leaning his head in so his face was only inches from yours. “You tellin’ me you know he’s safe and sound right now? Or does an itty, bitty part of you think that maybe, when his baby girl and best insurance policy went out for drinks, it left his ass dangling out in the open, just begging to get capped?”

Your nostrils flared and your teeth were clenched so hard together that you were sure they’d break, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t fight. You were stuck in the space of Tom as his cool breath violated your cheeks, suddenly picturing violent images of your family in a pool of blood.

Your eyebrows raised with each syllable you spoke, trying your best to conceal the incredible stress eating at you from the inside. “Get...the fuck...out of my face.”

Tom did something that almost made you combust then, swiping his thumb across the bottom of your chin, grinning, and blowing a smooch at you before finally drawing back. The sound of his lips smacking together lingered in your ears, like he not only had total control of you, but of all the soundwaves in the air.

“Look, I thought I was doing you a favor, giving you the heads up and all...I definitely didn’t have to. So if you wanna be an ungrateful little bitch about it, fine,” he stepped back, sitting down in the booth again and casually propping his feet up on the seat opposite. “don’t call him. I don’t fucking care.”

With a path to the door finally freed, you began to calculate your next move in your head, but Tom seemed to have violated your thoughts, too.

“Nuh-uh,” he tsked, looking off to the door and giving a nod as minion #2 locked it into place and stood with his arms crossed in front of it like the world’s least intimidating bouncer. “You really think we’d come all this way to tell you we’re about to kill daddy and then just let you, what, leave? Run home to his rescue?” he scoffed at the mere thought, and his worker bees in black laughed along with him. Tom gave you an infinitely objectifying once-over. “Like you’d make it that far in those heels.”

“I’d like to see them off,” one of his men said, prompting Tom to violently curse at him.

“Don’t you fucking dare talk about her like that, Harry. She’s not yours.” He was acting like some protective owner of you, which only made you angrier as you felt a dull electricity appear in your stomach.

The alcohol already in your system mixed with the adrenaline coursing through your veins made you feel fiery, out of control, erratic. You weren’t sure if you wanted to lunge at him or cry, the sting of worry pinpricking your eyelids as Tom’s smirk stayed put.

“What do you want?” you resigned, looking down and away from him, leaning against the wall behind you for support. You didn’t want to cave, but you couldn’t help it- you were paralyzed, fight or flight response warring with itself.

Tom shrugged, remaining nonchalant. “Just bragging rights, really,” he picked up an arm and ran his fingers through his tousled hair, his oversized platinum watch catching the light as he did it.

You were able to regain some composure as you responded, remembering who you were, knowing that your family could hold its own. You took a few paces forward in an attempt reclaim your pride. “Slim chance. You’d never be able kill him anyway, you pathetic excuse of a television criminal,” you spat out, seeing Tom’s expression falter just enough to spur you on. “You’re not the only one who knows things, y’know, I’ve learned all about you, too. All bark and no bite. A puppy who acts tough until he gets a paper cut and cowers under the bed.” you could feel your confidence refueling your words, and narrowed your eyes. “Maybe you were intimidating as a kid, but you don’t fucking scare me now, Holland.”

Upon the callout, Tom bolted up from his seat, swiftly pulling a handheld gun out of his belt and backing you up against the wall, barrel aimed at the perfect angle to blaze a clean hole through your head. “You little-”

Thankfully, you had friends on this side of town, and Roxy always had your back.

She tore out of the back with an assault rifle twice the size of her, firing a round of warning shots into the rickety ceiling. It shook Tom’s focus enough for you to make a break for it, running and ducking behind the safety of the bar.

“You better get to leaving before I have to mop you greasy motherfuckers off my floor,” Roxy said in her thick cockney accent, looking as intimidating as you’d ever seen her. Tom sniggered and stayed put.

“You think I’m joking?” she said, aiming at the wooden boards and landing a shot barely an inch from one of his friends’ feet.

“Jesus-!” they yelped, forcing you to stifle a laugh as you watched the scene unfold.

Three very oversized men walked out from the back of the room with their own weapons of choice to back Roxy up. Seeing they’d been outnumbered, Tom retracted his gun and looked warily at his friends, grouping up to leave the bar. He saw you backed in the corner and took an extra moment to let that cocky sneer find its way back to his face, making sure to remind you why you ran in the first place.

The group walked out unscathed, leaving behind a deafening silence until Roxy looked back at you and shook you from your trance.

“Go home, babes, and make sure your family is okay.”

As you ran outside against your better judgement, eyes locked on your car parked in the alley, an abraisive pair of hands grabbed you from behind and pushed you up against the side of the building. You recognized the sickly sweet smell of cherries and knew Tom wasn’t finished with you.

He had his arm up over your head and the other on your shoulder, evidently taking in all of your features for the first time in years.

“Time did you well, didn’t it? My god, can’t believe my little kid wife grew up to be so pretty,” his eyes sparkled with a twisted, deep desire. “We’d look good together in different circumstances, hm?” His words prompted you to spit in his face.

“In your fucking dreams.”

“Ooh, a feisty little thing. I’d watch that temper of yours, y/n, you’ll make a lot of enemies talking like that,” he said in a low voice, collecting your spit from his cheek and sucking it off of his finger.

“We’re friends forever, darling. I’ll find my way back to you.” he winked at you and sauntered away into the dark. “Say hi to daddy for me.”

Your foot on the gas pedal made an indentation on the floor of the car as you sped home, tears almost blinding you from the road, making every streetlight overhead look like an abstract explosion of color. You left the ignition on as you careened into the gated entrance of your house, kicking your blue heels into the grass and sprinting inside, yelling. “Dad? Mum? Hello???”

You almost ran head first into your parents as they rushed out of the den after hearing your exasperated calls.

“y/n? What the bloody hell is going on?” your mother saw you standing shell-shocked, taking in the fact that they weren’t chopped into pieces, and pulled you into a hug as you broke out into uncontrollable sobs.

“T-they locked me in and told me they were- that you’d be dead when I got home-” you choked out in between tears, unable to calm your breathing.

Your dad gripped his tumbler of scotch with so much sudden anger that it shattered into his hand. You could see fire in his eyes. “Who? Who told you that?”

You looked up at him and said exactly what he was expecting. “The Hollands. Tom. He- he came into Roxy’s.”

“I’m going to hang that chav from his wimpy little fucking-”

“Hon, please.” your mom said sternly while motioning to you in your sorry state, making your dad’s face a little less violently red. He took a deep, ragged breath.

“Hey, sweet pea, look,” he said, tucking away a strand of hair that had fallen in your face and was clinging to your tear-streaked cheeks. “We’re okay, alright? Tonight is an ordinary night, and our security detail is the best in the city. You stop worrying and go get yourself cleaned up, mum and I have something special we want to give you.” He smiled only to steam off and slam the door to his office, most likely to make a call to get someone, anyone, that may have had a hand in tonight’s events drawn and quartered by dawn.

You came downstairs after a long, boiling hot shower that only made you seethe more at the fact that Tom had been bluffing the whole time. It had clearly just been a fear tactic, probably done for no other reason than to fuck with you on your birthday and ruin your night. He loved crafting little games like that, this being the first time he’d come to play in person—and what made you angriest is that it had worked.

“Honey, we have a gift for you,” your mom said, handing you a silver box that was much heavier than it looked. She and your dad sat on the big sofa in the den, looking at you expectantly.

“Well, open it!” she smiled.

You undid the box, hands still shaking from earlier, and found a shiny, pitch black glock with a silver inscription in its body reading “sweet pea”, the nickname your dad had given you forever ago.

“Uh, wow, I don't know what to say...” you trailed off, picking it up and turning it over in your hand. It became surprisingly weightless, feeling like it was made to fit in your palm.

“It was mine, back in the day,” your dad spoke, seeming wistful. “Had it rebuilt and shined up for my baby girl.”

“Thank you, daddy, I love it,” you said, leaning over to hug your parents. You smiled blankly as they talked to you about the gift and how special it was, nodding at their comments...but you weren’t really listening.

All you could think about was a pair of flushed lips inches from your own, an intoxicating smell lingering in your brain; and just how amazing this gun would feel in your hand right after it had burned a bullet-sized cavity into Tom Holland’s chest.

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lightoftheluna · 5 years

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Summer Nights (Grease AU)

The feud between the two gangs had raged on and Magnus was getting tired of the T-Birds. He knew this town wasn’t big enough for the both of them, and he was looking to expand their territory. He was the rightful King of these parts and he didn’t care if Zuko’s boys thought they were worthy enough to hold the crown. They’d have to remove it from his cold dead hands.

Even though he was in this life, he didn’t want his children in it to. But as the years went by he knew that he wouldn’t be able to rule forever and decided to teach them the ways. He was lenient with Aiden but when it came to Mahina he wasn’t so willing to let her do as she pleased. Sure she could fight and use a weapon better than any man or wolf that he knew but it was his little girl, his little star light.

Today was just a routine drop, get the guns from the supplier and give them to Jax to distribute. He, Jon, and their sons were heading toward the meeting point but Magnus felt a bit off.

“Ya know...you’re not usually this quiet.” Jon shouted over the purr of the engine as they rode out.

“I can’t be quiet for once?” Magnus gruffed not bothering to turn his head

“You worry too much, she’s an adult and of age to find her mate. Stop pouting.” Jon snickered

Magnus didn’t bother to answer giving a low growl in warning. As they got closer to the farm he caught the scent of a familiar annoyance and once they pulled up he saw the bane of his very existence. “Zukos.” He growled stopping the bike as the others followed his lead. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

@the-winter-dork-rp

#biker au #Grease Rp

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monsterstewwrites · 3 years

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Bar fight in the Void: A space Samurai story

This is a concept chapter of an original character and story I’m planning on writing. I’m putting this out here to get some feedback and maybe gain some fire under my butt.

Warnings: This snippet contains space violence, a bit of unruly drunkenness and suggestions of sexual violence, though nothing is said outright. Also this is unedited so beware for my terrible raw writing.

Satellites were a dime a dozen, just ask any hauler and trader moving from one system to the next. It was a long endless grind that made the need to the various satellite commodities a welcome respite.

These small pockets of life among the emptiness of space were often romanticized by people who remained on their planets. A small place where scattered beings would step out of the void and meet someone else, perhaps for a battle or even a moment of passion before flying back into the blackness.

The thing about them that many ground bound didn't consider when talking about the satellites, tavern or no, was that laws were at the whims of whoever owned the satellite. Many if not most of them were owned by people who, at one's most polite, could be referred to as unscrupulous.

Needless to say, that often made a simple pit stop dangerous if you weren't connected to a trading company or group of some kind.

No one liked to make enemies of a syndicate, or worse, a capitalist.

One such satellite, the Lost Star, was one of the literal type, where a slightly larger than average asteroid had been colonized enough to sustain a small group of people and their business, a grimy little tavern and inn.

In truth it was better than most satellite taverns, big enough to house plenty of patrons but not to big that anyone shady would be interested.

At most of just had the usual gang, which weren't that bad in the grand scheme of things. At least they paid for their drinks.

The Lost Star danced on the fringe of an asteroid belt, fitted with rockets to keep it from drifting too far inside the thick of the space rock river. A dense oxygen field coated the surface and a cluster of tethers were affixed to it's core for smaller ships to dock onto it, or for it to dock to a large trading vessel.

Looking at the building itself, one would typically think of a hole in the wall sort of place, carved out of a hill of melted stone that had been dug out of the desolate rock and made to look vaguely building shaped.

Inside it at least had decent furnishing, steel tables and worn tapestries with artificial lighting to balance out the bleakness of space.

The owner was indistinguishable from the other workers with his spotty leather apron and grease stained shirt. At his hip was a heavy duty blaster in case things got too rowdy in his establishment.

You'd have to be stupid to not have one in your staff.

In spite of that, the other employees didn't have a blaster, but they did have some hardcore taser systems on them. They weren't top of the line or anything, but enough to keep the people working there safe enough from the average belligerent drunkard.

That day in particular wasn't all that different from any other day in the Lost Star, a number of tethers connected to the asteroid meant a fair number of patrons drinking their fill.

It was a decent selection that had been shipped in too, one of their regular suppliers. No one was really focusing on anything, just drinking and trying to forget the sensation of loneliness that traversing through space could bring.

The only people not trying to drown themselves in enough booze to forget about existence were a trio of young men who clearly hadn't been traveling in space for a long time. True they were a small group, but the fact that they were chuckling about something with them was a clear sigh that they were some young punks cruising around space to cause trouble for those who had enough problems.

It was clear that they wanted to spice up their little rest stop, but had yet to decide on a target from the limited pool of miserable specimens among the bar.

The employees of the tavern were looking at the three of them, who seemed to be getting antsier by the moment.

Luckily for the other people at the bar, someone new walked into the establishment.

She didn't seem to be different from any other lonely space traveler, with a belt of weapons around her waist. Her clothes were a tad strange for that area, loose sleeves and pants that seemed to close around her like a robe of some kind. The shirt top itself was a rich blue and dotted with a silver flower pattern, while the pants were a simple dark gray.

Every stitch was a clear indication that wherever she was from it was pretty far off.

Her species was clearly mammalian at first glance, the sight of her long ponytail trailing behind her being the biggest indication of that. Such a species was fairly common everywhere, nothing to special. Still, anything was possible this far out in the void so she was likely yo have a few secrets in her genetics.

Her eyes connected with one of the servers, who nodded as she sat down at one of the empty tables that sat a little ways away from everyone else.

After a moment that same server came up to her and she ordered a glass of something sweet and flavorful.

“I mean it when I say flavorful,” she said. “Most alcohol is pretty bland, but if you have to add a flavoring I'm okay with it as long as it doesn't put you out.”

The server paused a moment before making a face that said the woman had something of a point, especially as she held out a vial of tellurium and they suddenly didn't care about whatever she asked for and went over to the back to prepare the drink.

Such a move seemed like an amateur one, to flash something so valuable in an asteroid tavern like it was a bottle of oxygen on a forest planet. A few of the other patrons raised their eyebrows as they watched her actions, but since most of them were old enough to know not to pick a fight there was even a chance they could lose they left her to her own devices.

At their corner, the three young hotshots interests were clearly piqued.

The woman didn't pay much attention to the eyes on her as she reached into her belt and pulled out a tablet, standard as a pair of boots if a bit cracked in places. After that she removed an old looking leather journal with paper and everything, clunking it on the desk.

Only getting her drink was enough to pull her attention away from what she was doing, and as she held her tablet in one hand she used her free hand to take a sip now and again.

Everyone kept an eye on her as she sat alone and sipped her drink. Her loose sleeves swished as she brushed a stray hair out of her face and behind her ear.

The rhythm of what she was tapping out cut through the murmurs in the tavern, erratic and only half certain as she poured over between the screen and paper journal in front of her.

Had she been at a more populated place she might have been able to hide into a crowd and keep anyone from caring about her, just another face in the crowd. Here though, she was a bit more of a sore thumb. She was even a species who actually had thumbs!

All around her the tavern shifted into an atmosphere of tensity. Anyone with a decent amount of experience knew that something was going to happen with this woman, and it didn't take a genius to figure out who would be the catalyst.

It took a few moments of silence, her fingers skimming over the paper journal in front of her as she drank, before the trio of men made their move.

The largest among them stood and threw a grin back at his comrades, who were hooting after him as he approached the woman.

She didn't seem to notice him, but her movements seemed to slow a little bit.

“You're a long way from home, aren't you little thing?”

He words dripped with toxicity and smugness that made anyone who was within earshot feel skin crawl.

His whole weight was leaned against the table she was sitting at, the whole of his body towering over her.

“You're blocking my light,” she said to him without looking up. “If you don't mind please.”

He only leaned in further, breathing heavily as she sat there not looking up at him. His lips curled into a sneer as she squinted at the paper journal below her, trying to make do with the light that was now limited due to being blocked.

“I would much rather play,” the aggressor said to her. “You seem like the perfect toy to relieve my boredom.”

That made her finally look up at him.

Her eyes flicked up to the man in front of her, glancing him up and down for a moment before turning back to her tablet to brighten up the screen. In spite of the casual threat he had said to her, she didn't seem impressed by the look of him enough to take it seriously.

The guy didn't seem to mind being ignored, if anything he was happy to use it as an excuse to get into her face and use her desire to not be bothered as an excuse.

“You might not understand this,” he said, leaning down close to get into her face. “But I have no intention of taking no for an answer, and my boys don't either.”

Back at their table to other two men hooted at her, much to the chagrin of everyone else in the tavern. The girl though, ignored them and stared up at the man who was trying to front on her.

His eyes roved her body hungrily, and there was no need to guess what he had in mind when he referred to her as a toy.

And yet...

“I'd like to be intimidated for you,” she said. “But I'm afraid you're not intimidating.”

A snarl pulled across his face and he threw his fist at her face.

She artfully ducked underneath his swinging fist, practically planking on the chair to avoid his attack and seemingly bounced back with an open palm directly into his mouth, knocking a few jagged fangs loose in the process as he stumbled back.

Her attacker spat out a few fangs and snarled at her as his friends started to surround her. They drew their weapons, guns in each hand that had heavy grip that was good for striking, and glanced at each other to gauge what to do.

Nearby the other patrons watched the small brawl that was breaking out, hoping that it was kept to the four of them.

Meanwhile the woman was putting her book and tablet away and standing up. She pushed off her loose robe to reveal a slightly tighter bodysuit underneath as she wrapped the sleeves around her waist and tied them off.

The potential assailant gripped his rapidly bleeding mouth with one hand as he swung the other to rally his boys, and they came without him having to say anything.

One of them pulled out a knife and the other pulled on some knuckle dusters that sparked with electricity across his fingertips. It seemed very impractical to the woman, but she supposed it was meant to just look cool.

Knife moved first, striding ahead and swinging the knife in a downward arc in a stab. The woman pivoted away and used the momentum to spin her leg into his arm. The strike of her foot was enough to knock the knife out of his hand.

She then leapt up off of the ground to kick her other leg onto his head, sending him sprawling back a few feet as his vision swam for a moment.

As Knife wobbled from the hit, Knuckle Duster dashed past his companion to try and electro punch her while she was regaining her balance from the kicks. She raised her fist to block him as best as she could, the electric current of his weapon pressing into her arm and burning into her clothed flesh. The bodysuit blocked a bit of the damage but it still hurt like a bitch.

But hit threw her balance back in check to she could better defend herself from him.

Knuckle Duster swung his other fist, but she was able to better block him so his taser couldn't brush against her body again. This time she could redirect his attack instead of straight out putting her arm in harms way.

She knew she had to take him out quickly, and her chance came as Knife ran forward to try and hit her from behind with a chair.

A quick duck as Knuckle Duster pulled his arms back and Knife swung the chair was all she needed to get the punching jerk out of her face. And she used Knife's panic at hitting his friend to spin around and punch him in the face and knock him down.

To make sure that Knuckle Duster was out for good the woman raised her leg back and kicked him hard in the stomach, sending him down further.

She sighed in relief, only for the footsteps of the leader to reach her ear. He was running towards her in fury, likely with his own weapon drawn.

Rather than turning to him, she kept her eyes on the fallen comrades until she could gauge he was close enough.

Then she tripped him.

A small scoot to one side as she stuck her leg out was all she needed to do and he was tumbling face first into the table that she had been sitting at before he approached to bother her.

Her unfinished drink was jostled when he made contact and fell to the floor. Sadly it didn't hit him, but some of the glass scattered around his head as he groaned in pain.

Now that they were all down on the ground, the woman took the chance to restrain them and pulled out some sturdy carbon cord and tied each one's hand behind their backs with it.

Because the action was over, the rest of the patrons of the bar turned back to their drinks and the staff all breathed a sigh of relief and rushed in to take care of the damage. The owner and bartender on the other hand opted to approach the victor of the fight.

The owner was diving her a stern expression, his beak grinding together as he scratched at his blue tinted neck.

She smiled apologetically at him and scratched her head, looking at the damage that his employees were cleaning up.

“I apologize for that,” she said. “I'll pay for the damages.”

She bent over and rifled through the pockets and pouches of her attackers, eventually finding a few small canisters of neon and one lithium vial that looked to have been made a good while away, more than enough to pay for any damages.

“I don't know the value of these in this part of the void,” she said. “But it should get far enough for you to at least cover the broken chair and glass, not to mention the price of my drink and the work it takes to clean it.”

He glared at her, but snatched the vials out of her hand anyway and walked away from her to put it in a safe place to trade with properly later. Along the way he stopped to squawk something to his employers, but that didn't matter to her.

“Before I leave,” The woman asked, pulling her journal out again and approaching one of the employees. “Can I ask something of you?”

She opened her journal into his face and showed him a vaguely drawn picture of some sort of star system. It was roughly drawn and had a number of symbols over each planet, mostly skulls.

“Can you identify this place?” She asked.

There was a pause as the image was absorbed by this person who really had no patience for such sudden questioning by the person who managed to knock out three rough looking jerks about some old sketches.

“That's probably the Skeretti system,” the put out employee said after a moment. “Pretty empty due to a lot of wars that happened years ago. Left most of the planets there uninhabitable and the asteroids are pretty damn irradiated, only life left out there is ”

Looking at the page herself, she nodded firmly and shut the book with a snap and she turned away to head outside and put her own spoils of the battle into her own ship.

“Thank you,” she said over her shoulder before leaving.

Mercifully no one else opted to follow her out of the tavern and into the cold air of the Void.

Around her, pixels of light glinted across her body to indicate that her space suit was operating properly as she exited the oxygen and gravitational field of the tavern itself and wandered into the tether field where her ship was waiting for her.

It was floating in space with the line out farther than all others no one else could hit it.

Carefully she hooked herself onto the tether with a secure carabiner. She then reached down to press a small button on her boots to release her gravitational lock that auto jumped when she exited the building.

And then she jumped.

Moving along a tethered lines was easy in the Void, no gravity an all that. One hand over the other with way less strain on her body than if she was planet side and she honestly found it fun as she passed .the other ships along the way.

Once she got to the ship it took a quick slip inside and a few buttons and she was able to properly breathe oxygen inside her ship again.

She didn't untether just yet, wanting to wait and sit in the silence for a bit.

Sitting in Constellation's cockpit she pulled the journal out of her sleeve and opened it to look at the first page.

'To my beautiful daughter, Ame Yozora. Our scattered roots may belong to the stars, but they will always be yours'

The Skeretti System, she would have to see if this wild goose chase got her to where she needed to go.

#original writing #writing #feedback #sci fi #science fiction #samurai #concept idea #please don't tear her apart too much

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john44545 · 3 years

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Best metal test and best wireless pressure - tips and tricks

Wash under pressure. How do they work? How do I choose a gas, electric or wireless car? What is the difference between a vacuum cleaner, a vacuum cleaner and a vacuum cleaner? Why are there so many different dishes and what do they do? What about PSI and GPM?

In this article, I will answer these and many other questions. In addition, I present my best selections on a variety of test types and types.

The main focus of this article is primarily on “customer points” (mostly electricity) washing machines. These devices have a very high cost and reasonable price, and often take time to use, and some have the same PSI as commercial and professional units, only without labeling (or high quality to to build heavier buildings) sections).

Types of washing machines There are three main types of washing machines.

Fasi kesi afi Connect the power supply to 120 volts and The wireless devices run on batteries, mostly Li-Ion. Each type of washing machine has its advantages and disadvantages, and you may be foolish to try to better manage the pros and cons of choosing the best washing machine that suits your needs. I recommend you use the Pareto rule, asking which machine will do 80% of your work and only 20% of your activity. This should get you off to a good start.

Normal conditions of washing pressure PSI: weight per square inch

This is the amount of energy released from the surface water purifier. Ideally, you want a fire that has the same power to convert one object over another. For example, is PSI enough to remove paint from the house, travel carts in your living room, cement dirt, or dirt and grime in your car? As the PSI rises, the washing pressure intensifies.

GPM - gallon per minute (free flow rate)

Think a little about Niagara Falls, which produces about 440,380,904 gallons per minute. This is a very large number. When all this water falls on the top of the mountain, it falls on the rocks as high as 160 meters and gradually enters the soil. Now imagine the water flowing at the edge of a small natural waterfall. Niagara has few flowing streams and free land.

If I wanted to clean it quickly (or water!), I would use Niagara instead of a spring. Also in the washing machine. If you want to clear the area in a short time, you need a high flow rate or GPM.

Anatomy of the filtering machine This article focuses on purifying cold water. They are usually connected to a water heater where the water temperature is below 1040 degrees Fahrenheit and use hot water but have commercial sanitation agents. It is important not to pour hot water on the cold water machine as this will damage the engine.

Next, let’s talk about the cold washing machine parts.

There is a high pressure water pump. There is a pool of water that connects to the water supply device, usually the pool. Some cordless batteries bring water from a bucket where the hose is installed (or added). The machine is powered by household electricity (120V), a machine or (the newest on the market) lithium-ion battery. The machine can be operated manually (is installed) or can be added units with wheels to balance the workspace. Most devices come in medicine bags or supplier supplies. It has a high pressure range from the water pump to the spray hose ("gun" holder) Typically, a vacuum cleaner is supplied with multiple tubes for different cleaners (usually 00, 150, 250, and 400) and may also contain a vacuum. It can have "turbo" hosting (much later).

It is about heavy load puzzles With the exception of “turbo” nozzles, most cleaning machine vendors on the market today have options that include their bags. Each group has an activity. These include:

00 is a good pencil case that emphasizes weight loss. It is used to build narrow passages that require large water flow. It is also good for removing things like tar, burnt dirt and dirt on the second floor of your home, as well as high surfaces such as grease and shelves. Suitable for removal of material 150 surface. Apply everything from paint to tools and metals from rust to oil / grease. 250 is a great team for cleaning the sides of your home, balconies, floors and streets. Typically, 400 nozzles are used to clean windows, outdoor furniture, cars, boats, recreational vehicles, and garden equipment. Soap soaps are used to disperse chemicals on the floor before washing machines. These leaks are located at the end of the spray tube and cause low pressure soapy. Turbo is about community and turbo speed. In the cycle mode, the flow rate of 00-150 is close to 3000 rpm (rpm). Because the pen and scratch pads rotate at a very high speed, it does not hit (as above) like a flat brush The advantage of a turbo host is that it can cover many areas in a short time, for example, 50% less time. In addition, it can be used to be a common denominator (except for the soap holder), which eliminates the need for four standard nozz.

see here more about it

Use it for the right job Using the wrong puzzle can destroy ready-made paint for important things like ships, cars, and fun games. It is important not to use the power of a spray gun on these items. 400 kits are recommended, but you still need to be careful not to hold the button too tightly in the car, because the transparent jacket (and even the color under the paint) can crack and damage it.

When cleaning a car by force, first and foremost, it helps to remove dirt and grime from the car when using a cleaner that you plan to use in the washing machine. Then use soap to gently wash the soap and dirt.

Also keep in mind that moving signatures to those in good standing (00, 150, and sometimes 250) can damage boards and other slippery surfaces. It is better to use the suggested button for a specific task.

About heavy pipes The size of the container corresponds to the standard size of a 20-meter-tall plastic tube that connects to a plastic tube machine. These pipes usually have a minimum diameter of 1/4 "or 5/16" (internal diameter). The 1/4 inch sensor is typically rated at 3200 PSI. 5/16 engine identification is typically rated from 2700 PSI to 3600 PSI. When buying a vacuum, the company will provide accurate identification based on the maximum vacuum load. When buying an replaceable hose, make sure you purchase the correct ID and PSI hose for your device.

If your garden is short of supplies and needs further cleaning, the answer is long pipe pressure. A good choice is the high pressure Flexilla hose (shown above). These green tea bags are easy (they can be adjusted by wrapping or wrapping the base after spraying) and a 50-meter hose can be held in place, including a warm, long sleeve. However, I found that Flexilla high-pressure washers work well with Greenworks washers (I replaced most of the high-pressure Greenworks washers because they are so thin and easy to roll), Yard Force units and Sun Joe, appear waste.

Yard Force Electric Pressure Test Electrical cleaning If you don’t need expensive commercial units and professionals (and you don’t need many farms and those interested in the scenery), a heavy electric car is a great option.

High quality electric washing machine At the place of the electric washing machine (powered by 120V lithium-ion batteries) we looked at the cleaning machines of the big machines (categorized by customer)

Loss of power, Sun Jo W. Green issues. Data rates range from 500 to 3200 psi. Some had separate puzzles, some had puzzles, and some had one adjustable puzzle for any change beyond the age of 00. 450.

What you need to know about a washing machine buyer These units specialize in cleaning playgrounds, wheelchairs, butcher shops, boats, windows, gardeners, lawns, garden equipment, outdoor furniture, and more. Some parts I tested can remove paint, but only at slow speeds (except for the 3200 PSI Yard Force gas test we reviewed). Washing machines are often more expensive than gas stoves. It can be used safely in a locked room (eg toilet cleaning and garage cleaning). On average, these units can reach PSI 500 to 3,000+. This needs repair. It can be portable (carry or return to arms and wheels). Be quiet about the gas stove. It is now available in wireless models powered by lithium-ion batteries. Use less GPM water compared to commercial and commercial sectors. Do not use the same key components such as businesses or private sectors (this will reduce costs). Clean performance Performance depends largely on GPU data and user speeds. The more time you have the device near the workplace, the more energy it will take from dirt, wounds, paint, and more. As mentioned above, you need to be careful when you do test burushyo different surface installed to cleaning to avoid damage to looga basis subject. The standard format has 4 puzzles (usually 00, 150, 250, 400) and offers many cleaning options. Turbo auo good, but unnecessary. But I found it to be very effective and 50% faster than usual can be cleaned with a small hand. The use of electric washing machines is recommended

Yard Force Impact Wrench (YF1800LR)

This is one of the most non-commercial washing machines I have tried. From an independent call to an electric hose settling to high pressure, efficient cleaning, from weight and weight bearing to small details such as instrument cleaning, the instructions on ergonomic design are easy to understand and follow. All washer components, including infrastructure fans, are fully automated. As the name of the company suggests, the Yard Pressure Washer (YF1800LR) is a power that needs to be considered. I highly recommend it. 5 stars.

Sun Go SPX3000 Electric Pressure Test The Sun Go electric pressure sensor is simple and easy to use, with a clean, easy-to-adjust handle, adjustable steering wheel that simplifies its operation, and is stored on the board in all parts. It does not have the same power as conventional gas, but provides sufficient energy for most operations. 4.8 stars.

Sun Go SPX1501 electric cleaning machine I love this little washing machine. He took me like a wolf in his clothes - a strong pocket despite its small size and a toy-like appearance. Due to the effective pressure of the 1400 psi guide, I put it on the vacuum pump section. But if you’re looking for a standard blog that doesn’t have a lot of bells and whistles, a special package of brakes (no more straps anymore!), Heavy-duty components that connect easily, and a GFCI cable battery, but don’t look no further. Could this be the part you are using to remove the paint from your home? Probably not. But it is very useful for general cleaning work. 4.6 stars.

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chinaluda · 1 year

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Digging Deep with Precision: The Essential Guide to Hand Grease Guns for Excavators

　　Excavators are heavy-duty machines that are widely used in construction, mining, and other industries for digging, lifting, and moving heavy materials. To keep these machines in optimal working condition and ensure their longevity, regular maintenance and lubrication are essential. In this regard, hand grease guns play a vital role in supplying lubricant to important joints and bearings in excavators.

　　Understanding Hand Grease Guns

　　A hand grease gun is a manual tool used to apply grease or lubricant to specific areas of machinery or equipment. It consists of a cylinder with a plunger and a trigger mechanism. The grease is loaded into the cylinder, and when the trigger is pulled, it pushes the plunger forward, forcing the grease out through a nozzle.

　　Choosing the Right Hand Grease Gun

　　When selecting a hand grease gun for your excavator, there are a few factors to consider:

　　1. Pressure Capacity: Excavators have different grease requirements, so it is crucial to ensure that the hand grease gun you choose is capable of generating enough pressure to deliver the grease to the desired areas. Look for a gun with a high-pressure rating to ensure efficient lubrication.

　　2. Grease Compatibility: Consider the type of grease or lubricant that your excavator requires. Some machines may require a specific type of grease, such as high-temperature or water-resistant grease. Make sure the hand grease gun you choose is compatible with the grease you intend to use.

　　3. Grip and Ergonomics: Excavator maintenance often involves working in tight and challenging spaces. A hand grease gun with a comfortable grip and ergonomic design will make the task much easier and reduce user fatigue.

　　4. Nozzle Type: The excavator's lubrication points may vary in size and accessibility. Ensure that the hand grease gun you select has a variety of nozzle attachments or an easily interchangeable nozzle, allowing you to access and lubricate different areas with precision.

　　Using a Hand Grease Gun for Excavators

　　Once you have chosen the right hand grease gun, follow these steps for effective lubrication of your excavator:

　　1. Safety First: Ensure that the excavator is switched off and that all moving parts have come to a complete stop before beginning any maintenance tasks.

　　2. Identify Lubrication Points: Refer to the excavator's maintenance manual to identify the specific lubrication points. These typically include pins, bearings, joints, and pivot points.

　　3. Clean the Area: Before applying grease, use a wire brush or a rag to remove any dirt, dust, or debris from the lubrication points. Clean surfaces will allow for better grease adhesion and prevent contamination.

　　4. Load the Grease Gun: Follow the manufacturer's instructions to load the grease gun with the appropriate grease or lubricant. Make sure the gun is securely loaded and that there are no air pockets.

　　5. Apply the Grease: Attach the appropriate nozzle to the grease gun and apply a sufficient amount of grease to each lubrication point. Be cautious not to over-grease, as excess grease can cause buildup and lead to malfunctions.

　　6. Recheck Regularly: Monitor the performance of the excavator after lubrication to ensure that the grease is effectively reducing friction and improving the machine's operation. Regularly check for signs of excessive wear or unusual noise.

　　Hand grease guns are essential tools for proper maintenance and lubrication of excavators. By choosing the right grease gun and following the correct procedures, you can ensure the longevity and performance of your excavator, reducing downtime and increasing productivity. Remember, regular maintenance and lubrication not only protect your investment but also contribute to a safer and more efficient work environment.

#Hand Grease Gun For Excavator Company #Hand Grease Gun For Excavator Supplier #Hand Grease Gun For Excavator Wholesaler

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iqbalfoley3-blog · 5 years

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Cordless Oil Gun - The Lincoln Powerluber Is A Must Have!

In a busy automobile store, a cordless oil weapon could make life a whole lot easier and much more productive. Rechargeable cordless tools are anywhere nowadays as well as oil weapons have signed up with the family members. I would recommend this device to anyone who is greasing regularly from an expert vehicle shop to a construction company that has a fleet of devices. Lincoln Powerluber The Lincoln Powerluber cordless oil weapon is an excellent item for the expert auto mechanic. It comes loaded with features in order to help you finish the job. My favorite feature is the two-speed switch that controls grease flow. This switch can be set to either give you high quantities of grease flow at 10 oz a min at tool stress or give a concentrated stream at high pressure. The high stress setting will offer you about7500 psi of working stress! Your typical grease gun just does not give you that type of versatility. Lincoln asserts that in regulated conditions this model could get to stress of approximately 10,000 psi. The Powerluber is well developed The style of the Powerluber is an additional attribute that stands apart. Lincoln does a terrific work developing a well balanced device that flights well in your hand. It is comfortable to use and can obtain you into a lot of areas to apply grease. This cordless oil weapon has a port to accept an optional shoulder band which I would certainly recommend obtaining. Particularly if your climbing about huge tools to grease it. With the shoulder band you could let the cordless oil gun just hang from your shoulder and get it when you need some grease. A shoulder strap could also save you from dropping it on the concrete and also destructive it also. This device likewise comes with a 30" hose that is long sufficient to get into tight spots. The hold is additionally padded which contributes to the convenience factor. Powerful Cordless Grease Gun Lincoln placed an effective little electric motor in this cordless oil gun making sure there is lots of power available. A powerful 14.4 volt high torque motor is the source of power behind this tool. It's the reason this little jewel could drain a lot grease and also give you higher stress. The 14.4 volt batteries have sufficient juice to last and the clever battery charger could recharge one in under an hour. Nonetheless, I would still recommend obtaining the version with 2 batteries. If you are using your cordless oil gun continuously, you will want to have the 2nd rechargeable battery heating up in the charger. This will enable you to make a fast switch as well as keep oiling. The Lincoln Powerluber is likewise very easy to tidy with simple access to clear out infected grease. For vehicles can be a fantastic enhancement to your device collection. Greasing can be a tedious duty, yet with a Lincoln Powerluber, you could virtually make it enjoyable. Lincoln Powerluber Lincoln Lubrication is the leading maker as well as supplier of auto and expert lubrication products in the world. They create a wide variety of lubrication products in addition to cordless oil guns. Lincoln's cutting-edge manufacturing centers lie in the USA and Germany. They also have 5 technological assistance centers for fantastic technological assistance. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dPcTNLpDF5M

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ludaindustry · 2 years

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LD-808 Two cylinder Industrial grade hand grease gun 600cc

Capacity：600cc

Pressure：6000-12000Psi

QTY：12PCS

G/N.W：18/17kgs

CTN SIZE：45x27x41cm

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trabongreasepump-blog · 5 years

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3 Questions To Ask Yourself To Find The Best Grease Pump Seller

A grease pump, also referred to as grease gun, is an equipment used for lubrication in many auto garages. Such device helps provide better saturation of lubricants in the important areas, as well as avoid wasting grease. A grease gun is also available in different types such as hand powered, air powered, and hand-powered with no trigger mechanism. In case you are someone who calls for such lubrication apparatus, you should first determine the appropriate store to buy from.

Realise that plenty of suppliers out there will convince you that they sell high-quality grease pump items. But how can you be sure that they're the correct shop to buy from? Simple, simply think about the questions below.

1. Do they offer a broad range of products?

You might be wondering, “Why do I need a shop that gives a wide number of items if all I want is a grease gun?” Well, first of all, a store is the one that can offer grease guns in numerous models and kinds. Thus, regardless if you’re in need of a side lever or pistol grip grease gun, this kind of shop can absolutely provide.

Another reason to pick such a shop is that you won’t have to locate a different store to purchase from in the event you require other related lubrication equipment. Indeed, it’s more convenient to talk and transact with only one shop when buying your equipment, right?

2. How familiar are they with their products?

Needless to say, it isn't enough that the store features numerous lubrication products. However, they must also be expert and knowledgeable of the products they are offering. They must know how the lubrication systems function, and the right application for each one. Furthermore, the store should be able to give information or explanations about the items they have. For example, if you’re asking about a Trabon grease pump, they must quickly tell you about its power, kind, or brand.

3. What are the services they have on offer?

When choosing the best shop to get a grease pump, be sure that they also provide a selection of useful services. This is beneficial in case you’ll need help in obtaining a bespoke lubrication system, or assembling the lubrication system you have bought from them. With that said, determine if the shop could design items tailored to their clients’ requirements. At the same time, they should be able to provide all the appropriate components for the item you’re purchasing. For example, if you’re acquiring several Trabon grease pump items, then they should have some grease gun connectors for sale. Likewise, it’ll be far better if the store has technical engineers who can assist you in setting up any lubrication system you’ve purchased from them, saving you some time doing it yourself.

Choosing a store that gives exceptional grease pump items, along with other lubrication systems can be challenging. But by asking yourself the things mentioned above, it will be less difficult for you to differentiate the best store from the second-rate one.

#Trabon Grease Pump #Lubrication Fitting #Grease System #Grease Pump #Aro Diaphragm Pump #Graco Diaphragm Pump

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mercurytail · 6 years

Text

Shifting Sands Chapter 4

:D I proudly present Chapter four! Thanks to @the-hallowed-lady for betaing.

Please be aware that this chapter contains Sexual content.

Please Leave comments they keep me going <3 I Love you all!

Enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15223778/chapters/35309981

Shifting Sands Chapter 4

(Important: The weapon later in the story used by the bounty hunter in Mexico is a modified bolo tie, it is made of wire and the pendant is a heating fixture, it enables the tie to decapitate and cauterize when cinched.)

McCree stirs just as the first light kisses the horizon, turning the sky into an array of blazing orange, vermillion, and lavender; the shy blue basking amongst them. McCree stands and looks to the other room, Hanzo lies on the bed, chest rising and falling steadily. He turns to the cabinet and grabs a bottle of painkillers; god knows he’ll need um. ‘So much for a ‘good night’s sleep’’, He downs four pills with a glass of water.

He peels off his shirt and leans over the sink to wash his hair. He then cleans up his face in the mirror. Satisfied with his priming, he briefly considers grabbing a clean shirt but decides against it so as not to awaken Hanzo. He tosses his old shirt in the corner with the rest of his dirty clothes. He peels off the gauze from his wound and treats it, then dresses it with clean dressings.

When finished, he stows the kit away and returns to the kitchen. He doesn’t have much in the ways of food, but with the rye bread, dried heirloom beans, bacon, leftover avocado and peach preserves, there is the makings of a decent meal in his opinion. He sets his beans to soak and looks over the route they’ll take to his supplier in Santa Fe.

He occupies himself while the beans soak with a cigarillo outside. A couple hours pass and he walks back in. He heats a pan and cooks up the bacon, while two slices of bread tick away in the toaster. He takes the beans from the water and fries them in the leftover bacon grease. Once they're cooked to his liking he mashes them and smears some on half a slice of toast, he lays avocado over them. He spoons a dollop of peach preserves on the side and calls it good.

*grunt*

McCree hears Hanzo stir in the other room. He smirks to himself and scoops up the plates.

***

Hanzo wakes to the sunlight streaming from under the door, he sits up with a groan. The smell of bacon wafts through the air. Hanzo turns and places his feet on the floor, but before he can stand the door opens.

“Mornin’” McCree greets him. Shirtless.

“Good Morning,” Hanzo nods briefly stunned by the man’s soft-toned muscular chest. A water droplet glides down McCree’s chest from his still slightly damp hair.

“Figured’ you’d be mighty famished, what with the day you had yesterday,” He places the plate down on Hanzo’s lap. Then quickly returns with two glasses of water. He sits down on the floor across from Hanzo with his own plate in hand.

Hanzo’s takes in the meal on his lap. The golden preserves are nestled up against the glistening crispy bacon. Hanzo soon realizes just how starved he feels with the pain that blossoms in his gut, he drools slightly. He snaps from his trance and wipes the drool on the back of his hand. He picks up a strip of bacon and scoops up the sweet preserves onto it. The sweet and salty flavor is heavenly in his mouth.

He notices McCree waits kindly till he’s nearly done with his beans on toast to speak.

“So, if you were headed to Gibraltar, How’d you end up here?” McCree says as he finishes chewing a strip of bacon and reaches for his water glass.

Hanzo takes a strip of avocado, chews and swallows it before answering. “As I stated before, I do not know. I had been on a job in Germany when they double-crossed me, I was forced to flee and the last I remember is being confronted with a bomb. I destroyed it. After the explosion, I found myself here.”

“Did you use your lightning to destroy it?” McCree inquires.

“Yes…” Hanzo now finished eating, sips at his water.

“Sounds to me like you might a’ made a rift, what with all that energy being concentrated in one place.” McCree shrugs.

“Rift? Like a kind of space rift?” Hanzo furrows his brow in ah that McCree would have this type of knowledge.

“Yeah, had it happen to me once back in my service days. One second, I was facin’ off against some baddies in Russia, the next, I’m laid out on my ass in the middle a flock of sheep in New Zealand. Helluv’ a ride. Took Winston two weeks to figure out what had happened.” McCree stands and motions for Hanzo’s plate.

“I see…” Hanzo hands the plate over and leans back on his arms on the bed. “By any means, the coincidence of my appearance here was a blessing in disguise for the both of us it seems.” McCree flashes him a wide smile and walks to the kitchen. Hanzo follows.

McCree places the plates in the sink and gives them a quick rinse. “I’m assumin’ you’ll want to shower before we head out. Imma’ pack up some things and get my bike ready.” McCree walks into the bedroom, Hanzo hears him rustling around. The man returns carrying a bundle of clothes and a sleek grey duffle bag. “Help yourself to anything ya’ see.” McCree motions to the soaps near the shower and then proceeds to exit the shack leaving Hanzo to himself.

Hanzo looks at the door for a short moment, He then walks over to his bag and pulls out his comb, razor, and tea soup bar. He lays them on the floor by the wall mirror. He peels off his remaining clothes and folds them individually, laying them over the back of the leather recliner. Lastly, he pulls the yellow silk tie from his hair; it cascades over his shoulders. He reaches up and runs his fingers over his scalp, savouring the release. He turns the knob and allows it to heat up before stepping under the spray.

Hanzo’s sharp cheekbones glisten in the light. He scrubs his hands over the hardened edge of his abs and hip bone. His hard-toned body feels good under is touch. He takes his razor and runs over every inch of himself; he trims up his unruly lower bush, and then trims his beard. He washes his face and hair then rinses off. He towels off and wrings out his hair, then ties it into a high ponytail, his hair and silken ribbon drape down his back. He slips on a black cut-out tank and his Aztec designed pants and puts his gear over top, he then sits in the leather chair to lace and buckle up his boots.

He moves over to his bag and checks its contents. He will need to replace his missing knife, as well as a heady set of arrows and arrowheads. He reaches for Storm bow and gives it an once-over. His bow could use tuning when there was time for it. He repacks then straps on his bag and quiver and places Storm bow over his shoulder.

He then walks out into the morning sun. It’s not hot quite yet but Hanzo senses that will soon change. He talks off his jacket and ties it around his waist. He then turns and makes his way to the back of the shed, where he hears McCree scuffling about.

***

McCree walks around to the back of the shed and opens the hatch. He climbs down into the basement and walks over to his workbench. He places the duffle bag and change of clothes down. He turns and strips, then slips on the clean Shirt and brown suede pants, he rolls up the bottom a couple loops. He folds and places the dirty clothes in the duffle.

He then takes his chest armour off the wall and straps it on. He turns back and takes the chaps off the wall from where they’re hanging and folds them; placing them in the duffle. He takes his holster and straps it on placing Peacekeeper in her place. He unzips a side pocket of the duffle and places spare bullets and flash bangs in it, as well as essentials such as painkillers, sterile wrap, a flashlight, granola bars, and a tin for water.

He places the packed duffle in the saddle bag of the Atlas and buckles it. He slips his switch knife and the bike keys in his pocket, then wraps on his serape; topping it all off with his beloved hat. He takes his bike and pulls it up out onto the packed desert clay then closes and latches the hatch.

Hanzo walks around the corner.

“All packed and ready to go.” McCree tips his hat at Hanzo and winks. “You look refreshed.”

Hanzo ignores the gesture, “The shower was agreeable. Is this the only mode of transportation you have?” Hanzo motions to the Atlas, less than pleased.

McCree cocks his head and looks from the bike to Hanzo and back. “If you’re hatin’ on her, you can just walk. Or we could travel by Sand,” McCree looks Hanzo in the eye. “Or lightning in your case.”

Hanzo bristles, “That would be unsafe and impractical for energy conservation.”

To that McCree moves to the bike and mounts it. He turns and pats the back seat, grinning at Hanzo. Hanzo walks over and saddles the bike behind McCree.

McCree starts the bike and looks back at Hanzo. “Hold on Darlin’,” McCree kicks the bike to life and guns off. Hanzo flails back but finds his hands soon clasp securely around McCree’s waist. He frowns slightly to himself from how much he likes it more than he should. McCree grins to himself all the while. They fall into a comfortable silence.

***

They make it to the supplier in Santa Fe by the late afternoon.

McCree pulls into the alleyway and knocks on the side door of a redbrick apartment building in a rundown part of town. Hanzo stands beside him. A cat walks out from behind a dumpster, completely black all over except for two small white dots just above its brow arches. “You have horns, my friend.” It mewls at him; Hanzo bends down and calmly strokes it. The small hatch at eye level on the door slides open and McCree exchanges words with the man.

Soon the door swings open and they are let inside. The cat follows. The room inside is small, each wall of redbrick possess a fluorescent bar light. The wall across from the door has a waist-high counter, above that are bars to protect the seller; flaking green paint hanging from them. On the left wall is a pair of Iron doors, their glass windows fogged with years of grime. One door is cracked, showing a training mat and small target range inside. The cat leaps up onto the counter and squeezes under the bars, there is a small red pillow on a stool on the opposite side, it jumps up and rolls over on the pillow, all four paws in the air stretching languidly. The man who opened the door seals it and sits down on a padded chair in the corner. He picks up his newspapers and resumes reading it. He’s bulky but seemingly unarmed. But they all know that is a lie.

McCree makes his way up to the counter and knocks on it. “Melanie, you here?”

“Jesse, what brings your sorry ass to my shop?” A thin woman with bright purple shoulder length hair and a septum piercing walks out from the shadows among rows of shelves, she’s tan with black lipstick; a small gold chain hangs around her neck. She wears all skin-tight white clothes. “Oh! And you’ve brought company.” Her eye peruses Hanzo, “Mmmmm, and what fine company it is.”

“Don’t you got a man back home Mel?” McCree raises a brow.

“Just because a girl’s on a diet doesn’t mean she can’t browse the menu, and maybe taste test a little. Now, are you here for business? Or pleasure?” She places her hand on the counter and leans toward Hanzo accentuating her chest.

Hanzo sneers disinterestedly and looks to McCree.

“Sorry Mel, we’re here on pure business. I need a case of bullets and a bottle of gun oil. Also, whatever he needs.” McCree motions with his thumb back at Hanzo.

Hanzo moves forward, “I require a set of arrows, arrowheads, and a serrated pocket knife.”

“’humph’, aren’t you both needy.” She grins at them, “give me an hour and I’ll have it ready for you.” She waves them off and disappears back amongst the shelves, her bladed heels clicking in the darkness.

McCree turns to Hanzo, “you wanna’ spar to pass the time?”

Hanzo huffs amusedly, “I doubt you will present much of a challenge.”

McCree grins wickedly, “Hey now, don’t knock me till you try me.” He flicks his nose with his thumb and saunters into the training room. He removes his armor, hat, serape, and boots. Hanzo follows and removes his arm guard, bag, and boots. They both face each other on the mat and Hanzo bows then ready himself. “Now Darlin’ don’t you feel you have to take it easy on me.” McCree brings his fists up.

McCree swings forward with his left hand. Like a whip, Hanzo flashes out grabs McCree’s arm, curls into him and flips him over his shoulder onto the mat. “I never take it easy.”

McCree grunts on the mat, he rolls over and stands back up. He looks up at Hanzo with a wolfish grin. “Again.”

They ready themselves once more. Hanzo strikes out, going yet again for a disarm and takedown. McCree responds my fanning away. He surges back with a fake left jab when Hanzo responds he then glides his right arm around Hanzo’s head and pulls it back straight against his spine and forces him to the floor. Hanzo collapses and stares up at McCree standing smugly over him. He gets up and readies himself once more.

The next hour consists of both men equally being thrown, pulled, flipped, and driven into the mat. Both with a permanent grin on their face.

A bell rings from the other room. “’Ahem’ Gentlemen I hate to interrupt your date, but I have your items ready.” Melanie spouts from the other room. Hanzo scoffs and walks over to his things to redress. McCree grins and does the same. They both walk out and pay for their items. “Farewell, my dears!” She waves goodbye from her side of the counter. They walk to the door and out into the alley. McCree packs away his items and Hanzo stashes his things in his quiver bag.

“Do you want to stop for the night?” McCree flashes a raised eyebrow to Hanzo.

“That might be wise.” Hanzo joins McCree on the bike and they ride off.

Soon they pull up in front of a rather nice-looking hotel. McCree parks and turns to his duffle. He takes off his hat, and slicks back his hair. He removes his serape and folds it into the duffle. He straightens the wrinkles from his shirt; buttons it completely and tucks it in his pants. He pulls out a pair of thin frame glasses from his bag and places them low on his face. He then places the grey duffle on his shoulder and motions for Hanzo to follow. They make their way inside and to the front desk.

“Hello, a double king suit please, if you don’t mind.” McCree flashes a bright smile with a cheer Hanzo has yet to see from the man. His accent is completely different, and he exudes an arrogant energy.

“Of course, sir, May I have the name and duration of stay?” The receptionist chirps back typing away at the holoscreen.

“Joel Morricone for a single night.” McCree takes out his wallet and pulls out a credit card. It reads Joel J Morricone in the name slot. They pay and are given a room number. In the elevator, McCree is eerily quiet. Once they are in their room McCree shakes out his hair, takes off the glasses and returns them to their case in the duffle. “Which bed you want?” he asks as he simultaneously lays down on one of the two.

Hanzo lays his bag against the wall; he then smirks at McCree who has one eye open at him. “I will use the bathroom first.” Hanzo proceeds to grab an undershirt and a pair of sweatpants from his bag and locks the door to the bathroom behind him.

McCree rolls over and strips down to his underwear, taking a pair of sweatpants from his bag and slips them on. He lies down on the bed and tucks under the top downy comforter.

He smiles to himself. A feeling of fondness blooms in his chest. Not having to explain Joel to Hanzo was comforting. Hanzo knew the need of such alter egos, the requirement to be a different person when the time called for it. He turned over on his side and closed his eyes.

McCree was asleep when Hanzo came out of the bathroom. He pulled back the layers of his bed and crawled in. He turned off the shared porcelain lamp and folded into himself. His breath slowed gradually as he drifted off.

***

They wake at sunrise and travel all morning, they make it to a small Texas town about six hours from Dallas by lunchtime and they decide to stop and eat. Hanzo picks a classic looking diner. McCree comments that it looks a lot like the panorama Diner from back home. “Let’s hope the coffee’s at least drinkable.” They walk in and are seated into a red faux leather booth.

They are both given menus, McCree orders coffee and a glass of water, Hanzo requests mineral water. “I’ll get your drinks and you can order with me when you’re ready” chirps the waitress. She returns with their drinks and they shoo her off till later.

McCree looks over to Hanzo and seems about to say something when a ring echoes out from his pocket. McCree retrieves his communicator and looks at the ID. He furrows his brow and answers.

“Hello Mrs. Shewmore, I’m afraid I ain’t home right now so if you need help….” McCree pauses, his eyes widen. He takes the earpiece out from the communicator and hands it to Hanzo. Hanzo places it in his ear.

“Jesse, I needed to tell you. There was a man that came to my home searching for you.”

“Are you alr...?” McCree starts.

“I am fine, a bit worse for wear but alive, Son I need to know your safe. Ease this old lady’s heart.” She interrupts him and pleads.

“I am fine Mrs. I am off pretty far with a friend,” McCree says with a soft voice.

“Good.” She seems soothed.

“Can you tell us what happened?” McCree ducks his head into his hand propped on the table.

***

A knock sounds from the front step. Mrs. Shewmore scuffles to the screen and raises her eyes, her smiles drops. A Large hulking man stands on the other side. His skin is dark, presumably of mixed descent, freckles scatter across his face. His short, auburn red hair is shaved short. He wears a black short sleeve jacket with a white chest plate over it, military-grade pants with several large pockets adorn his legs; mid-calf boots on his feet.

“Hello Ma’am,” The man pushes open the screen door and forces his way in, “I’m looking for a man by the name of Jesse McCree. I hear tell you might know where he is.” He leans forward a bit casting a shadow over her.

“I am sorry but, I must ask you to leave.” She moves around him and toward the door. The man spins and grabs her by the throat thrusting her up against the wall. He continues normally. “You see, he took something real’ important from me. An’ I plan to make him pay for it.” Mrs. Shewmore grabs the vase on the side table near her and attempts to smash it over his head. The man grabs her arm however and bends it back, breaking it with a sickening snap. She screams out in pain. “Now, you either tell me where his little shithole is in this godforsaken dead land, or I can drag you around behind my truck with me till I find it.” He reaches into one of his pockets and pulls out a large chain.

***

A Shadow busts in the door of McCree’s shack. No one is home. The man angrily kicks the side table; it shatters into pieces against the opposite wall. A glare of light catches his eye. He walks over the holoscreen and presses it on. The figure smiles viciously. “Don’t you worry Sammy, I got him.”

***

“After that, I gave him the coordinates of your shack and prayed for your safety. I know you can handle yourself Jesse, but I still worry.” Mrs. Shewmore quips.

“Thank you kindly for the warning Ma’am, I’ll keep a sharp eye out. You get yourself to the hospital now you hear me?” McCree says his pleasantries and hangs up.

He looks at Hanzo as a mixture of emotions crosses his face. Anger, yes, but fear too. Soon, they all melt away and a solemn mask takes their place. “We might have company.”

Hanzo nods, “Do you know if the hunter that made an attempt on your life two days ago worked alone?”

McCree gives him a quizzical eye. “I don’t rightly know.”

They finish their meal and rent a motel for the night. All afternoon they spend researching If Sammy had any recorded partners. Only when searching through a deleted social media page do they find a single name that catches McCree’s eye. Garrett Hazel. The profile shows a single picture of Sammy and Garrett kissing with a caption at the bottom that reads: “To the love of my life, I am hopeful for our bright future.” beside it there’s a wedding ban emoji. Hanzo finds an article on him, “Garrett Peter Hazel, ex-military SEP soldier, he turned to bounty hunting after the programs fall out. His success rate is 96%”

They decide to rest and rise early. They leave in the morning before the suns first rays taint the black sky. They make it to the station before the sun even separates from the horizon. The train is due to depart later in the morning. McCree stows his bike in a garage. They board the train from the back and sneak into the rearmost cabin. Not until the train finally starts to excel down the rail does either man relax. McCree sits back and takes a nap as the train crosses state after state. Hanzo busies himself with his holopad.

“Dear passengers, we will be making our planned stop at Charlotte in ten minutes. Please buckle and have a wonderful day.” The intercom announces overhead. They pull into the station and come to a halt.

McCree stands, “Imma’ take a leak.” He opens the door to their booth and stops when he enters the hall.

Their car is strangely quiet.

McCree reaches for Peacekeeper but has no time to draw before a black bulk slams into him. Garrett nails him in the jaw with a flying punch and knocks him to the floor. Peacekeeper flies down the hall. He pulls a heavy chain from his pocket and goes to wrap it around McCree’s neck.

Hanzo reacts instantly; he lunges forward and grapples around his neck, slinging his legs up over his shoulder and pulling Garrett to the floor. He gets to McCree and pulls him to his feet, but Garrett recovers and grabs for McCree’s ankle, “So weak you can’t even take me alone? Gotta’ have a bodyguard?” Garrett taunts. McCree kicks at his face bending it obscenely back breaking his nose, blood runs down over his lips. Hanzo gets him to his feet as the train is beginning to move again. McCree grabs Peacekeeper from the floor. They make it to the door of the car and attempt to move to the next car up when Garrett catches McCree’s serape and nearly pulls him over the side of the now blindingly fast speeding train. Hanzo scales the train to the roof and pulls McCree up. Garrett soon follows.

“Nowhere to run now,” Garrett whips out his chain and stalks forward. The train is extremely unsteady. They are forced to near crawl to keep footing as they move toward the engine.

McCree turns to Hanzo, “I can’t use my sand at this high a speed, I’ll get ripped away, and Peacekeepers out of commission if I can’t aim.

Hanzo nods and quickly unleashes an arrow into the behemoth of a man. It lands solidly in his shoulder, but the man doesn’t falter. Hanzo releases another, it lands in his neck and still, the man does not slow. His eyes are bloodshot and he’s breathing heavily, seemingly running off pure fury and adrenaline.

Garret roars at the two men, now gating toward them as they clamber up the train. “My arrows have no effect!” Hanzo yells.

McCree looks back at Garret now merely two meters away. “Use your lightning!” McCree shouts.

Hanzo stares at McCree and hesitates. “I can’t”.

McCree looks at him confused, “Why not?!” at this moment Garret closes the distance and throws himself into McCree. They roll, violently trading blows. They topple over the edge and McCree catches the rail bar just barely, Garret clings to him.

Hanzo moves swiftly to the edge and grabs a hold of McCree’s hand. “You are coming with me, you son of a bitch!” Garret bellows from below.

“Hanzo! Use it!” McCree pleads. Their grip slips just a bit.

“He’s too close to you - if I do you’ll get hit by the current!” Hanzo exclaims.

Times stills when Hanzo catches the smiles on McCree’s face, “I trust you.”

Hanzo stares at him for mere seconds, a searing white light lifts from his tattoo and his eyes sprout small arks of electric blue. A bolt lifts from his back and strikes Garrett in the chest, sending a current ripping through his body. Both men scream in agony. Garrett slumps and falls from McCree, His body hits the fast-moving earth below soon out of sight and sooner forgotten.

Hanzo immediately pulls McCree back up on the car. He’s unconscious. Hanzo moves them both back to their cabin and lays McCree down on the floor. There’s no pulse. Hanzo tries CPR on him to no avail.

He screams. Lightning shatters off of him, shattering the glass around them. McCree convulses when he’s hit. Hanzo’s eyes widen with an idea. He grabs for McCree’s prosthetic and grips it tightly. Hanzo sends a shock through it, nothing. He tries again, McCree sucks in a gasp of air. Hanzo feels for a pulse, it’s erratic but most definitely there. Hanzo breathes a sigh of relief and slumps back against the seat.

When the Train reaches the New York station the sun is nearly gone. McCree is awake when they arrive; they exit the train and find an old abandoned apartment building to hold up in. They both feel safer in a no-name place like this. Hanzo moves a heavy desk in front of the door. The only pieces of furniture in the dilapidated studio apartment are a mattress in the corner and industrial spool meant to as a table. Hanzo helps McCree lay down on the mattress.

It’s quiet; aside from the club music weakly bubbling in through the crack in the window.

“Thank you,” McCree breaks the silence.

“I nearly killed you.” Hanzo is facing away from him. He isn’t angry with McCree but feels the need to distance himself. If the man harbors any ill-will toward him, he will bare it. He deserves it.

“Yeah, but you also saved me….twice.” McCree sits up. “Look, Hanzo I know what it’s like to be scared. To not want to use a part of yourself.”

Hanzo whips around staring daggers at him. “How would you know? Sand is slow and child’s play compared to lightning. Do you have any idea how much constant focus I am forced to maintain to keep the lightning contained? To keep it from destroying everything around me? To keep it…from hurting anyone..,” ‘From hurting you’. Hanzo curls in on himself. His lightning has always been unruly, even as a child he excelled at everything else. The elders would prod him, cajole him to master it, he had tried. When he was told to confront Genji…things had gone too far…he had only meant to use it to hinder him…but… Hanzo crouches; he cups his head between his hands making him look even smaller.

“Hanzo,” McCree crawls off the mattress and over to him, “Hanzo, you don’ have to…you don’t. Gaw!” He holds his prosthetic out in front of him, “you see this?” Hanzo nods. “It was about two years after I’d left Overwatch; I got caught by a hunter down in Mexico. Back then I was still green around the edges, still used to being taken care of, I had a hold on my sands but I thought I was untouchable. All I’d ever really used em’ for was to dodge bullets and Deadeye. He caught me real close, and it came to blows real’ quick. We were tradin’ punches left and right when the guy got his weird bolo wrapped around my arm. I turned to sand to try and slip out of it but it hurt so damn bad I couldn’t see straight. Next thing I know I’m lyin’ there bleeding out with my arm turnin' to dust on the ground in front of me. I managed to slither away but when I tried to reattach my arm I couldn’t. It was like it wasn’t a part of me anymore. I passed out in an alley and woke up in a kind old ladies house two days later.

“After that I got scared. Nearly died countless times taking bullets I could a’ dodged because I was too afraid to use my sands again, scared I might lose something else. It was one night at a bar, I was drunk and rambling on, that I met this old man. I don’t even know his name. He told me; “Sounds to me like you’re just waitin’ to die. If you can do something, why don’t you do?” After that I realized I’d given up on myself, I decided I’d learn my sands all over again find my limits and what I was capable of. I started using them every day. I got better; I found my strengths and my weaknesses. I also became deadlier because of it.” McCree leans into Hanzo and wraps his arms around the man. “Look, I’m not saying you have to like it, but caging it’s only gonna’ make it worst, you already know that. You got to find your limits and learn um.” McCree pauses and looks down at Hanzo, a single tear runs down his cheek, he’s staring at the cement below. McCree huffs dismissively.

He stands up “Get up,” he looks down at Hanzo offering his hand.

Hanzo looks up at him, looking to his face then his hand, a confused look on his face.

“This kind a’ sorrow is enough to kill a man… an’ I ain’t gonna’ let that happen tonight.” McCree reasserts his hand. Hanzo slowly stands, placing his hand in McCree’s.

McCree then steps into his space; he holds their hands out to the side and wraps his other arm around Hanzo’s waist. He begins to pull Hanzo along, making small circles around the room. Soon a waltz forms from the slow movements.

Neither man says anything as they continue to make sweeping motions. A slow hypnotizing beat drifts in through the window from the nightclub below. At some point they slow, their breathing is thick between them.

Hanzo gradually lifts his head. McCree surges in to meet him, Lips tangling, its intense as each man tries to soak into the other, both men finally allowing themselves to have what they’ve both yearned for, for so long. Each man needing the intimacy far longer than they’ve even known one another. Their lives don’t leave room for pleasures like this.

****Smut start****

McCree’s hands begin to explore Hanzo’s frame, lightly tracing over his waist and abs. Hanzo reaches up and pulls his hands down McCree’s back savoring the dense muscle underneath. They walk backwards and collapse onto the mattress. Hanzo crowds into the space between McCree’s legs. He slowly lifts McCree’s shirt and follows it with his lips, trailing soft kisses and licks all the way up until they meet in a soft kiss. McCree tugs at Hanzo’s jacket and it is soon gone along with his shirt. They barely break long enough for Hanzo to get it over his head. Their shoes come off somewhere along the way.

Hanzo sucks McCree’s earlobe and traces his teeth down McCree’s throat where he nips. Hanzo suckles one nipple in his mouth, drawing a deep moan out of the man below him. He fondles the other pebble nipple. McCree tangles his hands into his hair, pulling the tie loose. Hanzo grazes his teeth over the nipple as he switches.

After a bit, McCree shivers and sets up pushing Hanzo over to his back. Hanzo goes willingly. McCree crawls over him leaving bites up one arm, across his shoulders, neck, and chest then down the other arm. He squeezes Hanzo’s ass firmly. They kiss once more, tongues sliding deliciously. Hanzo tastes sweet. McCree tastes earthy. McCree reaches for Hanzo’s belt cautiously; Hanzo nods and breathes a silent ‘yes’. Both move to lick and nibble at the other's neck as McCree slides off Hanzo’s pants, underwear coming with them. Hanzo fumbles with McCree’s waistband. McCree chuckles and releases the ridiculous buckle for him, his pants and boxers slide off easily. Their thighs glide over each other as they slide closer. McCree grasps his hands and pins them above his head as they drown in the sensation of skin against warm skin

When they finally touch the friction draws a brisk inhale from both men. Hanzo fumbles for his bag and pulls out a small bottle of lube. McCree raises a brow, “Mighty prepared.”

The corner of Hanzo’s mouth tilt up, “A man has his needs.” He pops open the top and squeezes a bit onto his hand. He warms it a bit before he takes them both in hand, gliding his thumb over their heads. Their breathing hitches. “Han,” McCree slips his hands into his hair. Neither man is anywhere near small, McCree is just a bit longer than Hanzo, while Hanzo hangs thicker. McCree leans in close and bites into the muscles of Hanzo’s shoulder a deep, rumbling moan leaks through. Hanzo arches back and cries out in the mix of pain and pleasure. Hanzo sets a punishingly slow rhythm. Lips connect again in a hot embrace, as both men rut into Hanzo’s tight slick tunnel. Each pull sending heat up their spines.

Soon McCree breaks for air. He pulls back to look at Hanzo and briefly looks away. “Can I…?” McCree doesn’t finish because Hanzo takes his fingers and trails them over his puckered hole. McCree exhales and reaches for the lube with his other hand. Hanzo releases him and he crawls down to mouth at his thighs. He coats his fingers with lube and slides them over Hanzo’s entrance.

Hanzo’s sharply inhales from the chill but soon relaxes as McCree presses in the first thick digit. As McCree works him open, he breathes heavily. Each stroke delicious against his walls. McCree trails light nips and suckles over the skin, leaving marks over his thighs. He soon presses in a second finger and begins to scissor in him. McCree presses into the soft tuft of hair around Hanzo’s length and inhales. He trails his tongue over each ball rolling them one at a time. He curves up his fingers and circles that bundle of nerves over and over that leaves Hanzo a sweating, gasping mess.

“Let me hear you,” McCree whispers, he licks up from base to tip and suckles the head. He takes Hanzo in his mouth all the way down, only gagging once. He works in a third digit and spreads experimentally. He pulls off and pants, “I can’t…can I...” he begs.

Hanzo leans up and grabs McCree’s hair pulling him up for an open mouth kiss. He grimaces at the loss of fullness. He nods vigorously and wraps his ankles around McCree’s thighs coaxing him closer.

McCree lines himself up with Hanzo’s slickened hole and presses in. Hanzo savors the stretch. It takes a few patient thrusts for McCree to sink fully into Hanzo.

McCree kisses him, “Tch’ you feel so good, so hot, so tight around me.” He pulls out and back in just a bit; both men breathing heavily.

Hanzo tightens around him, “Get moving.” He smirks.

Without warning, McCree pulls all the way out to the tip and slams back into him, Hanzo claws into his back and curses. McCree looks more than pleased with himself.

McCree sets a fast and deep pace. Each thrust deeper than the last, Hanzo cants his hips up to meet McCree.

Both men quickly building to their end sooner than either would admit.

“I’m close,” Hanzo’s exhales, to that McCree takes a knee in each hand and bends him over almost in half and pounds into him. Each thrust strikes Hanzo’s prostate; it only takes a handful of strokes to send him careening over the edge streaking white over his chest and stomach. As he cums, he constricts around McCree inside him and the man spills inside Hanzo. “Fuck, Hanzo.”

McCree pulls out and falls onto the mattress beside Hanzo his arm resting over Hanzo’s chest. Both bask in the post-coital high.

After some time, McCree grabs his shirt to wipe them both off and lays down into Hanzo’s arms.

****Smut End****

As He slowly drifts off into a peaceful sleep he hears Hanzo whisper in his ear.

“Thank you.”

NOTES

(The song that plays while they are dancing is Martin Garrix Ocean. And the song earlier is The Weeknd’s Call out my name, and Martin Garrix/David Guetta’s So far Away)

(Hanzo’s outfit from after his shower: https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQXCyj74kfv3gaoRQJK7JtAySlna_2WWIlldJMLntddXH4MFtFg

https://gloimg.rowcdn.com/ROSE/pdm-product-pic/Clothing/2016/03/22/source-img/20160322103105_32428.jpg )

(McCree’s outfit: https://smhttp-ssl-33667.nexcesscdn.net/manual/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/loose-style-long-sleeve-denim-shirts-men-washed-vintage-men-s-casual-jean-shirts-summer-lightweight.jpg

http://www.kinnaird-guesthouse.co.uk/images/large/bblnet/ByH2F8uANfccccceeeee_LRG.jpg )

#shifting sands #mchanzo #mchanzo au #hanzo #hanzo shimada #jesse mccree #mccree #smut #my writing

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