#Hanzo Shimada One Shot

[hunahuna-un]

MULTIUPDATE POST!  ❤

All Explicit!  (All have old name for cowboy.)

Now readable without logging in! ♥ 

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Oh. Oh

Twisted Roads Chapter 26: Head for the hills

Banner art by @dogblessyoutascha   ♥ 

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And he was pretty sure it was unusual to have so many. 

Secret of the Forest Chapter 4: Pumpkin

Secret Forest AU - Elfzo and Orcass Banner art by @mattastr0phic ♥  

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"Why would you ask me that?"

Three’s a Crowd Chapter 3: Good looks

Banner by @mochagabu ! ❤

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"And look at your lover when you say it."

Love and Thrust

(Yeehanweaver!!! Threesome)

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So when the hell did he replace every line with Hanzo's name?

Hanzo no 5

(need log in)

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That's all! ❤

[fallenautumm]

I Might start writing Overwatch one shots

also almost every Genre and Character , so if anyone sees this ya'll know 😨👍

[kindasketchysideblog]

Wake up babe, new rant and redesign for Hanzo just dropped.

Hanzo’s OW2 design kinda sucks ngl, but narratively- it’s well done. He’s hidden his boob window, removed his gourd (which most likely has alcohol in it), and really cleaned up his facial hair. But it’s only narratively.

I’m not saying I’m better than the ones who designed Hanzo. And I’m definitely not saying I’m better coloring or rendering-wise.

But ffs, his OW2 design just blends all the colors together. Have they even heard of a wonderful thing called saturation or even using color variety to differentiate… colors? The grey moves onto the dark grey to the black in the OW2 only to be separated by a thin white strip, a small blue string on his side, and the occasional yellow. It’s just an desolate ombré with accent colors that was put in half-assed.

With this redesign, I wanted Hanzo to embrace tradition, streetwear, and dashes of cringe. Hanzo’s OG design was inspired by lots of Japanese men participating in “Kyūdō”, a practice in which archery and zen are mixed, sometimes will have their nipples out. This uniform/clothing also includes a robe like bottom- in which my re-design I made into pants instead. I still wanted to keep that narrative choice of covering up his titty (as sad as that may be) while still making it slutty enough: so I sliced it.

I’ve also reclaimed the gourd for Hanzo, as gourds back then were not solely used for holding alcohol back then, but many liquids, and this obviously includes water. The OW1 gourd also had the Shimada insignia, so I think it’d be OOC for Hanzo to not hold on to it imo. The gourd is also cracked in some spots, revealing the real original gourd underneath- parallel to how Hanzo is trying to open up, but still hanging onto family legacy and/or how his facade of honor is cracking. You choose how to interpret~

Other details like the buttons, his piercings, the dragon painted on his pants, and some additional colors were inspired/taken from Hanzo’s casual skin. Another is the feather in Hanzo’s hair- from the one Genji gave to Hanzo in the Dragons cinematic.

Anyways end of rant and pointing out details. Thanks for reading, it means a lot🥹 .

@wildissylupus @dawnthefox24 I was really inspired by your writing and all the fanfics surrounding OW characters and decided to take a shot with this. Hope you like what I came up with.

PS: That blob is supposed to be his dragon tattoo but it’s hard to draw it ok?

PSS: this is open for (constructive) criticism! As Genji says while you press deflect, “do your worst!”

[ya-zz]

Weed anon here- awesome, thanks! For some headcanons, I was wondering how genji, hanzo, and rammattra would take care of an s/o while they were high? Not like having a bad trip, but just, you know. Giggly, munchie, maybe a little huggy and sleepy. (One of my favorite things to do is just look out the living room window and watch cars pass. My friends joke that it turns me into a puppy) Thanks so much! Have a nice day (and a nice 420 if you partake 💚)

I enjoyed this, even if I had multiple tabs of research~ Thank youuu for requesting! ♥

GENJI

It wasn’t the ninja’s first time getting high, not by a long shot.

Years of partying and drugs made him build up a tolerance but it still gave him the buzz he needed. 

It wasn’t exactly your first time either, high school parties made you do unspeakable things that your mother had hated. 

When you suggested getting high as a joke, Genji was all for it and made preparations. 

You didn’t take it seriously until a few weeks later when he shows up at your door with bags full of food and a grin on his face. 

He barges past you, setting up the living room with blankets and pillows, stealing the ones from the bedrooms and bringing them downstairs. 

He wanted it comfy, “the best experience possible”, in his words.

When it finally came down to it, Genji was supportive. Letting you take your time, go at your own pace. 

Eventually, when your body felt warm and fuzzy, a smile gracing your features, Genji sat next to you. 

You immediately cuddled up with him and his arms wrap around your torso, pulling you back into the sea of blankets and pillows. 

All worries had seemingly evaporated as you lay with the ninja, hand trailing his chest as you mumble incoherent words.

Genji can’t help but chuckle, happy to be with you in such a vulnerable state.

HANZO

The eldest Shimada wasn’t against the drug, but it had been years since he even touched it.

The smell brought him back to the times he was pulling his brother back home from a bad trip. It made him feel sick.

When you came home one day from a party, eyes red and giggly as fuck, did Hanzo grow concerned at the coming drama. 

Flopping down next to him, you lay your head on his lap, looking up and admiring his features. 

He knew, he saw the look in your eyes that you were high, but the smirk on his face only grew the more you touched his cheek. 

“I want chicken nuggets.” You say. 

“I will order some.” Hanzo replies back, instantly pulling out his phone. 

“Make it a twenty piece.” 

“Are you going to eat them all?” 

“Fuckin’ watch me.” You giggle. 

The archer sighs, placing an order, putting some food in there for himself too. 

“Thank you, lovely.” Another giggle erupts from you as you watch the archer stutter, a flush covering his cheeks as he shakes his head. 

“You are insufferable.”

RAMATTRA

Ramattra wasn’t one for taking care of someone, at least, nobody other than you. He wasn’t made for that.

When you asked if he would watch over you while you got high, just to make sure your trip wasn’t bad, he scoffs but agrees. 

He did his research, making sure you were comfortable and had plenty of food around, then he let you do what you wanted. 

Ramattra stayed in the room, specifically by your side, monitoring your every move.

It took a few minutes to kick in, but when it finally hit, he noticed your body relax into the sofa.

Your arms opened up, wanting him to come towards you and he obeys without a second thought or argument.

“Is everything okay?” He asks before he is immediately pulled into a hug.

The metal was cold against your face, but the rumbling of his chest made you feel warmer than before.

Ramattra settles down besides you, arms holding you close to him as his hands traces circles over your body.

“I did not know you would be like this.” 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” You giggle.

“I am merely surprised.” He sighs, chuckle following after. “Let me know if you require anything else.”

Another pause before the mention of food, something that wasn’t on the table. 

“Humans…” He tuts, shaking his head.

[wisteriaiswriting]

may i request for sweet fluff hcs with the shimada brothers? preferably a reader who is slightly younger than them

𝔽𝕝𝕦𝕗𝕗 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤

Words: 646

Might've gone a little overboard for them. :)

No matter how long you two date or remain friends with him there will always be an air of mentor and student. It will never leave, whether it's easily observable or underlying. (In his words, ‘You never stop learning.’)

He tries to stay around you 24/7, making sure you’re safe by watching over you. If it’s not possible he’ll have someone who is trusted to take his place until he returns.

Isn’t the biggest fan of pda due to the fact he’s never dealt with it and he gets embarrassed. But he tries to make up for it later in private, which is repaid in cuddles and kisses.

His main love language is acts of service, if giving gifts were on it would be up there. But this allows him to feel useful and needed, even if he knows he doesn’t need to he’ll do it anyways.

Speaking off giving if you look at something for even a few seconds in person or mention something online next thing you know it’s sitting on your bed later. (Unless it wont fit then it’s waiting outside your door.)

He sews. Learned it when he was young and only improved on the skill, which he is happy to use now. By making you custom clothing and garments, making sure it’s your favourite colour, material and clothing type.

His dragons will start gravitating towards you, while it starts simple soon enough all their time outside of battle is spent hanging around you. In their small forms.

But once they become bigger it only makes their cuddle piles harder to leave, not that you would want to. At this point Hanzo has learned to join instead of leaving.

Everyday he’ll dote on you about your health. If you’re eating and drinking enough, injured? Searching and retrieving a medkit or medicine for you.

If you get sick he’s one of the best people to help you. He’ll stay around as much as possible, staying just far enough away and knows what not to do. (No kisses :()

He will train you, there will be no exceptions. While it’s mainly hand to hand combat, sparring and so on, if you turn out decent at bows he might let you try his out. (Unlike someone who shot him, Genji.)

Back in his younger years he would’ve had no shame when it came to pda, sorry but he wouldn't give up being a playboy. But you will always be his one and only.

In the current days he’s become a bit more reserved although he does enjoy and allow you to hold hands and some quick kisses. (His mask nudges your face.)

If you allow him he will carry you around, whether you’re injured or not. The usual is the bridal carry but for laughs he will do the fireman carry.

If you ever get seriously injured he’ll have no clue what to do, so he has to find the nearest support. Small ones are fine, luckily he knows the basics.

When he starts training you, he will go soft on you. Even if he tries not to, it's difficult, he tries not to hurt you. Panic will ensue if he lays the smallest injury on you.

Soon enough he’ll bring you along to the shambali monastery to meet Zenyatta. And if you two get along and meditate together he will fall harder.

He’ll try to convince you to meditate with him, even if you don’t and just hang around he’ll be happy.

His love language is quality time. Just spending time around you, whether you speak or not.

Will let you apply the balm to this scar as it helps keep them painless. Plus he gets even more time with you.

Please play with his hair. He will melt into your arms the moment you do, his scalp has become a lot more sensitive.

[nori-writes]

If They Accidentally Injured You

Cole Cassidy x Reader

Hanzo Shimada x Reader

Summary: How they’d react if they accidentally injured you on a mission.

W/C: 400+

This is kinda shit, so have fun reading LMAO. I don’t think I proof read it, might have and I don’t remember. I just felt bad for not posting for a hot minute. I’m working on some Cassidy angst too. I have no idea when it’ll be done but look out for it <3

Masterlist

Cole Cassidy

Personally, I think it’d take him a while to forgive himself.

His hand had slipped on the field and despite his typically good handle on his peacekeeper, it had slipped from his grasp and in his attempts to grab it, it shot into your heel.

Immediately after he had processed what happened he ran to you in a panic asking and making sure that you were okay.

He made sure to wrap it up before proceeding with anything.

While doing this all you could hear were countless apologies falling out of his mouth.

You had to reassure him that you were okay and that things happen sometimes.

Thankfully it had only shot you in the foot, he wouldn’t have been able to forgive himself had it shot you anywhere fatal.

While it was healing if you ever needed assistance getting around he was more than happy to aid.

Even though it only shot you in the foot he still has so much guilt.

It takes so much convincing him, weeks, months, after the fact to let him know that accidents happen and that you're okay and forgive him for it.

After a lot of convincing he drops it.

Still, everytime he sees the scar that he left a sour look comes to his face, knowing it could’ve been avoided with something as simple as a better grip.

Hanzo Shimada

He doesn’t forgive himself even after time and time of trying to convince him that you’re okay.

Poor baby’s first thought when he accidentally pierced your shoulder with his arrow was Genji. He already hurt one person close to him, he wasn’t ready for another.

As soon as he heard you let out a sound of pain from his arrow he dropped his bow and ran to you as fast as his legs could take him.

Thankfully someone else had taken out the last guy so he was safe to care for you where you were.

He asked if you were okay while telling you it was better to leave the arrow in for the time being until the two of you got back to the base where someone more qualified could tend to it.

While it’s healing he pampers you to make sure that you’re okay, always asking if you need anything.

You have to constantly tell him that you’re okay and that it was a simple mistake and that all that mattered was the fact that you were ok.

Like I said earlier, he doesn’t let it go, he doesn’t forgive himself.

He gets so upset when he sees the scar that he left with his bow.

But even so, he’s glad you’re okay.

[yuenthevoices]

Hanzo Shimada x (former) Servant!Reader

ok so- we all know the Shimada family was like, rich rich, right? imagine being a worker at shimada castle - just this average person working as a servant (probably with great pay ngl) when they were younger, and many years later seeing the heir of the family you used to work for being the hanamura equivalent of batman.

Younger Hanzo would be both easier yet harder to interact with, given your position.

Physically, it wouldn't be much of a problem to find him. Working at Shimada Castle would make it much easier, that's for sure.

On the other hand, he'd be harder to reach emotionally. Both because of clan expectations he'd no doubt be constantly trying and training to live up to, as well as the fact that he isn't naturally a social person.

Easiest solution? Don't try to interact with him. At least, don't try too hard.

If you work at the castle for long enough, being a consistent enough presence to become simply a familiar part part of Shimada Castle, he'll grow more open to you. As open as he knows how to be, anyway.

Hanzo strikes me as the type to favor routines, or at least the familiarity that comes with it.

Say you were the one assigned to bring him tea every so often. Maybe you knew enough about tea to be able to recommend blends to his preference, or you simply were assigned the role.

Overtime, he'd subtly begin to open up - asking about the tea blend you've decided on this time, perhaps even complimenting your choice of tea to serve.

If you work for the Shimada Clan long enough, he'd probably even notice if you were gone for a day, asking you the next time you bring him his tea.

However, despite this familiarity, I'm not sure if he would ever consider you a friend T-T. He'd most likely still see you as a staff member, maybe an acquaintance? Perhaps unrealized crush as well.

If you ever did develop a crush on Hanzo while working for the Shimada Clan, fully expect Genji to find out, regardless of if you've ever even talked to him.

Genji would tease either you or Hanzo no matter if you had a crush or not - nudging Hanzo whenever you walked within eyesight and pointing you out to him as 'his favorite servant', or following you around asking you questions while you were just trying to do your job.

After the Shimada Clan falls however, that would be...interesting.

Years after leaving your job as a servant to the Shimada Clan, just trying to make your way home through the streets at night, you'd run into him again.

Your reunion could vary from watching him take out a bunch of thugs from a rooftop to meeting again at a teashop or cafe.

Regardless of how you meet, you two do meet again. I'd imagine for Hanzo it'd be a bit bittersweet - seeing someone from his past, from before he lost everything, yet who's also a familiar face who he felt at least somewhat comfortable with.

He wouldn't open up immediately of course, but it'd be a bit easier to connect with him before, now that there wasn't a social class dynamic-thing happening anymore.

You'd most likely be the one to have to work to maintain contact between the two of you. Being the first to ask him things, message him, etc.

If you take that time however, he'd certainly become closer than you. Perhaps even realizing his unrealized crush from his youth.

If he were to develop/redevelop a crush on you, he'd certainly have to go to either Genji or Kiriko, both of which would most likely give him some version of - 'wow, you just realized?' - as a response, before giving varying advice, but none of which he finds helpful.

I'm not quite sure if he'd ever have the courage to ask you out. If he did however, it'd either be the most romantic scene every, or on accident with pure comedic timing.

anyways this is all i've got for now, maybe i'll write a proper one shot with this scenario later!

[lockem]

Overwatch Headcanons !

that no one asked for !!!

Genji Shimada !!

This boy really has some issues

He doesn't open up much, due to his past

He used to idolize Hanzo so much when he was younger.

Probably shoves food down his throat and doesn't care if it's still burning hot

Always manages to either be really early to stuff, or really late..

Couldn't believe people actually found him "attractive" (this built his ego)

Chokes on ramen.

Cole Cassidy !!

It's High Noon.

This man learned how to tell the time with just his hands

Probably also likes stargazing

I like to think when he was younger he found out about cowboys and how "awesome and cool and very very attractive" they are, and then began becoming one.

Always missed his shots, though Ana helped him with that.

(probably says "Its High Noon" in his sleep)

Tried asking for a horse/pony once

[togetherhearted]

do you suppose we could have some platonic headcanons where the reader is the youngest shimada child and after reuniting during the recall of overwatch, always has their brothers backs in the field? (I imagine hanzo would be surprised the first time it happens because 1. he’s amazed at how strong they became, and 2. he just didn’t expect them to protect him)

please 🙏🏽 and thank you

Hii!Of course I am open for platonic situations! Hope this is fine and thanks so much for waiting.

THE SHIMADA BROTHERS REUNITING WITH YOU

When was the last time you heard Winston's voice through the speaker and the overwatch logo shining in your computer screen? When was the last time you fought alongside the former members? As you embraced your weapon after many years of hardship and training the thrill to join your companions grew within you. The rescue team was already deployed on the streets. From afar you recognized your brothers. They were two formidable forces, just like your remembered. Yet, even the strongest individuals might need the extra help. You deflected one of the shots directed to Hanzo; proudly posing after it. -You're welcome!- You shouted, running forward. The Shimada brothers first looked at the bullet on the concrete, then at your figure leaving them behind. -Wait- Genji took a better look; his eyes noticing the dragon pattern on your clothes -It's really you- Now it was Hanzo's turn to see the weapon you were wielding;an old gift from them- No way...- The brothers exchanged a knowing look and followed you. The amazement in the rised;look at you;all grown up fighting by their side. You were quick, but your siblings, of course, were quicker thanks to the experience on the battlefield and the age. They caught up to you. Your blade was about to strike the next enemy, but it was sliced before your very eyes. -Too slow- You heard Genji's voice behind you -You still have a lot to learn- Hanzo hit a sniper hiding in the balconies who was aiming at you -Ah...thanks- Hanzo put a hand on your shoulder and smiled smugly, in his eyes you could notice how proud he was -How about a race?- -Eh?A race?Right now?!- -Yes. The one that defeats fewer enemies pays for dinner- He didn't finish the sentence; the older brothers advanced in a hurry;leaving you behind -Uh?Oh come on!- You ran after them.

[wildissylupus]

Not to mention the bitterness towards Pharah, like, the literal police. Being told 'then change the rules' sounds easier said than done, I feel like Kiri or another character should be a gateway into saying 'hey uhm, it's not that easy' or 'kanezaka is literally being overrun by a gang where tf are the authorities whe we need them'. But besides that, there's...not really any bitterness...I wish there was more anger in her. She has a reason to be pissed. I understand she's cunning like a fox but you can't always hold up that attitude when people in your home are getting killed. (Luckily Kiri was there when Mr. Yoshida got shot, but just think of the other people around.)

EXACTLY!! Honestly to me her most canon interactions are the ones she has with Pharah, Hanzo and Sombra, even then the Hanzo and Sombra interactions are the ones that actually feel like the Kiriko from the actual lore. She needs more emotion and I can't even fault her voice actor with this because I've looked into her other works and she's genuinely really good! It's literally just whoever is directing her.

There's also the fact that because of this lack of bitterness I often see people characterize her as a lot more morally good character when comparatively I'd put her on the same level as characters like Cassidy and Sombra. That and in general I wish she had a bigger range of interactions with Overwatch in general, her being incredibly hostile to characters like Pharah, Soldier and ex Blackwatch characters would be so interesting, Pharah and Jack because of their balck and white world view and ex-Blackwatch specifically because of their direct involvement in the Hashimoto taking over. Especially Genji who should have known better, even if he wasn't the future leader of the Shimada clan, should have known what the Shimada did that helped their community or the that getting rid of the Shimada clan would cause a power vacuum.

As I said before LET HER BE ANGRY!!!

[kortsitron]

Confession

Pairing: Young! Hanzo Shimada × Gender Neutral! Reader

Warnings: slight cursing, awkward "date", Genji being a bit of an dumbass

Summary: Hanzo has been into you for sometime, but he's too shy to tell you about his feelings. His playboy brother tries to help him

Author’s Note: Short one shot, cuz why not. I haven't write any one shots for Overwatch characters, so I'm happy that I finally wrote something. Enjoy!

"Thank you for today. I had so much fun!" You hugged Hanzo, before entering the taxi he got for you. He wanted you to get home safe. Hanzo just mumbled a shy "You're welcome." And waved while you closed the door and the taxi drove away. He signed happily, before going to the Shimada Castle and meeting his brother, Genji, waiting for him at the entrance with a visible smirk on his face. "And what do you want?" Hanzo asked, annoyed by Genji's facial expression.

"When are you going to tell them that you have feelings for them?" The younger Shimada asked, leaning against the frame of the entrance.

"Don't be foolish, _____ is just a friend." Hanzo bypassed his younger brother and went inside. Genji just signed, shaking his head and following his brother. "You can fool anyone else, but me, Hanzo. I know the way you look at them. I can see the way you get shy whenever ____ is around." Hanzo stopped. He knew lying had no purpose anymore. Genji knew him better than he knew himself. And as much as Hanzo didn't want to admit it, he knew his brother was right.

You were always so kind, caring and ready to help. Whoever was spending time with you, was feeling at ease, because of the type of person you were. It was no wonder that Hanzo was completely head over heels for you. He wanted to tell how he felt, he wanted to be more than "just friends". But he had no idea how to do it. He also didn't want to risk losing you and ruining your friendship.

"So what do you propose?" He turned around, crossing his arms, trying to hide that Genji just read him like a book. "You know I'm an expert when it comes to stuff like this. With my help, they'll be yours." Genji put his arm around Hanzo, while explaining to him everything that was on his mind in detail. Hanzo already knew it was not a good idea, but due to the fact he didn't have any other ideas how to confess his feelings, he was open to pretty much anything his brother would say. He has always been good with people and he has been in many relationships, so it was a good idea to listen to him, right?

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Hanzo mumbled while adjusting his earbud. He was on his way to meet you, but he was more nervous than he usually was. As much as he was aware that Genji could have almost anyone he wanted, Hanzo wasn't sure if his brother's plan would work on you. 

"Of course this will work. It works on everybody, so no worries." Genji shook his head, talking with his cat headphones on, being on call with Hanzo, keeping a safe distance from him. "Just listen to what I say and it's gonna be fine."

"Alright, but are those headphones really necessary? Don't you think they're too flashy?"

"They're cute as fuck and I can hear everything perfectly, so shut up." Genji whined, annoyed by his brother's question. 

"Okay, but you better don't turn the lights on, because if _____ will see you-"

"Hi, Hanzo!" You said with excitement, scaring the said man, making him jump and scream. He was not expecting you so soon. "Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!" You blushed from embarrassment.

"No no no its alright." Hanzo replied while fixing himself. He couldn't help, but a little mad hearing his brother laugh in the earbud. He heard Genji try to speak while calming down. "Tell them a compliment, okay? Tell them they look nice or something."

"You look nice today, _____. That's a really cute outfit…?" That was really out of character, not that Hanzo never said you looked nice or told you a compliment. It was really rare, because he was getting embarrassed easily.

"Oh thank you. You look good yourself." You smiled at him, seeing how uncomfortable Hanzo looked, hoping to make him relax. "Should we go for a walk?"

"Ye-yes, we should." The older Shimada nodded quickly and you two started walking.

"Put your arm around them." Genji whispered into the microphone. Hanzo had a moment of doubt and Genji could see that. "Agh, just do it. Trust me." So Hanzo did it, you jumped slightly. Hanzo wasn't that much a fan of physical touch, so you could tell something was wrong. Buy you decided to ignore it for now and started talking like everything was fine. "Good job, Hanzo."

You and Hanzo got to the park, full of cherry blossom trees. At this point Genji was trying to think of a cheesy pickup line to lighten up the mood. "You know what? Tell them "Your hand look heavy - can I hold it for you?"."

"What? I am not going to say that. That's the worst pickup line I've ever heard." Hanzo mumbled, hoping you didn't hear anything.

"Come on Hanzo, it's gonna make ____ laugh. I promise."

"No I–"

"Hanzo, is everything alright?" You sounded worried. You took his arm off of you and stopped walking. "You've been acting weird. What is going on?" Hanzo was too stunned to speak, so was Genji. Neither of them knew what to say. "Are you making fun of me or what?" You signed.

"Hanzo, just play it cool, okay?" Genji muttered. "Gimme a sec, I need to think." But Hanzo didn't need to. He knew what he had to do, so he took the earbud out, hearing his brother protest, before turning it off. "What the heck are you doing? We're fucked." Genji complained, taking his headphones off to listen to the conversation.

"_____, I'm so sorry. I was just trying to…" Hanzo got stuck, he wanted to say it, but he got anxious. But he knew if he wouldn't say anything, your friendship would probably end.

"Trying to do what?" You asked, crossing your arms. You looked impatient.

"I was just just trying tell you that I like more than a friend, but I was so scared I would loose you." He finally said it. Hanzo's face got completely late. "I wanted to confess to you for a while now, but… I had no idea what I would do if l lost you, so I was quiet. I apologize you had to find out like that." He couldn't bear to look you in the eyes.

"Well… It's nice to know you feel the same." You relaxed a little, knowing that Hanzo had a crush on you.

"Do you feel the same?! Why didn't you say anything?" He looked up at you, being surprised by your confession.

"Of course I do. And I didn't say anything, because like you, I was scared of losing you."

"So would you like to give us a try?"

"Yes, would you like to?"

"Absolutely!" Genji couldn't help, but let out a silent scream, hearing that everything went well. 

Hanzo has told you about Genji's plan, you couldn't help, but laugh at the whole plan. It was dumb, buy you appreciated that Genji was trying to help.

[flbrokensoldier]

hello :D could i request a hanzo shimada x gn reader one shot where the reader is suuuuper touch starved and never realized it until the first time they like laid down and cuddled? maybe they bury their face in his neck and get a little teary eyed and hanzo comforts them? love your writing btw :D i hope your day/night is going well <3

Omg I will do this, it's so cute 😭😭

And ty! I hope your day/night is going good too!

(Hope you enjoy!)

Hanzo Shimada x Reader

I Need Your Touch <3

It had been about a week since you both started to date, not very long but it felt like forever. You both were so deeply in love with one another it was crazy. Sure he wasn't too good at showing his affection at times, but he was still very affectionate with his random kisses here and there, along with his soft hugs. He always found comfort in having you close to him, even in front of the other Overwatch agents. He was

nervous to actually kiss you in front of them though, he liked to keep it more reserved anyways. You were his and he was yours, nobody had the right to question your relationship just by him not being affectionate in front of the others. In private though, he held your hand as you sat on the couch with him, watching shows or just sitting there in silence.

This night was different though, you both were drowsy from a mission you had just completed, so you both were now home, resting. You had a hold of his hand when you yawned and stretched a bit. He looked at you with a soft smile, not saying anything at first until he saw your eyes almost didn't want to stay open. He picked you up carefully and carried you to your room.

"Hanzo? What are you doing?" You asked, half asleep currently.

"Going to your bed, we can sleep there rather than the couch." He said as he walked into the room, setting you down on the bed.

He crawled into the bed next to you, his arms snaked around you as he pulled you close to him. You made a soft gasp and your eyes flew open, that's when it clicked. You realized how badly you just wanted to be held by him, in his stromg and tattooed arms. You just wanted to exist in his arms, in his grasp, never have him letting go. You clung to him as if he would leave if you let go. Your eyes vegan to water at the thought as you realized, that's all you wanted. To be held, to be soothed like that, to feel loved like that.

"Hey, what's with the tears?" He asked softly as he felt his shirt dampening slightly.

"Nothing, just.." You hesitated as you pulled away from his chest, moving to his neck, taking in his lovely smell. "Hold me like this for a while please." You pleaded into his neck.

He nodded and stayed silent as he held you close, almost to the point you were being squished but you couldn't care less. It was comforting for both of you. Believe it or not, he was in the same situation, he refused to show it though. Both of you holding each other was more than pure bliss, he stayed quiet for a while before he spoke softly, almost asleep himself.

"I love you." He practically whispered.

"I love you too Hanzo." You whispered back as you peacefully drifted off to sleep.

[genji-centric]

Aftermath

A Hanzo based story about the aftermath of his and Genji's fight. Warnings for blood, fighting, murder, angst and just alot of sad themes.

Authors note: please send requests my way!! Im happy to write anything and requests seem like fun ^^

Ideals were always the fundamental part of life. It was how Hanzo was raised, and he held his ideals to the pinnacle. The Shimada clan was what he was born to be. He was the eldest son, and that position held responsibilities he had to uphold. After the death of his father, Hanzo was now responsible for keeping his family in line. Keeping his younger brother in line. They were brothers, and Hanzo always desired to have his brother at his side.

His younger brother was everything he was not. Genji was a reckless boy, a person who cared about short-term luxuries and not what the future held. Hanzo was the mature eldest son, while his younger brother simply goofed around with little care about the world around him. Genji was a stray thread in the carefully woven empire their family had created. And it was Hanzo's job to tie up any loose ends, his own brother included. But Hanzo just wished that Genji would join him in expanding their empire together, as brothers.

Hanzo never wished ill will against Genji. He always admired his tenacity and the fact he could bring a smile to anyone's face. Genji wasn't meant for the criminal world, but life has its ways of making things difficult. Hanzo still remembers the first move, the sharp feeling of pain in his shoulder as a shuriken inbeded itself into his flesh. He remembered the anger, the blinding rage at the younger man before him. Hanzo remembers how he unsheathed his sword, how every slice of the blade made more blood shed to the ground.

Genji, his younger brother, was a skilled fighter like himself. He carried his blade with confidence, and the shurikens had a pinpoint accuracy. Hanzo couldn't help but admire a little when they would train together as boys. Even in the face of death, his brother was still him, the dragon stirred within both of them. Roars of their dragon spirits filled the surroundings, rain poured down, and lightning shot throughout the clouds. It was almost like the world was fighting with itself as the two fought, both fighting to survive now.

Swift slashes of his sword, clashing against metal and cutting through cloth and skin, throwing of kunai and them embedding into flesh and nearby trees. Blood was everywhere, and deep red was splattered against the bamboo of the private Shimada garden. Hanzo smelled iron, a mix of his and his brothers blood covered his body. Hanzo was the one to finish the fight. He was the more skilled brother. It's what he was raised to be, the eldest son had to be.

He remembers every detail of that moment, how his side hurt from the deep gash of a sword running along his side. The numbness in his leg, nerves sliced and cut in their battle. Hanzo's most vivid memory, the sight of his baby brother bloodied and lifeless. How his eyes were still open, his body limp and the blood pouring around him in the grass. Each slash of the sword drained the life from his own kin, the man he wished to stand side by side. He stood above him in that moment. Tears filled his eyes as he collapsed beside Genji. Hanzo screamed. He cried, and he begged for forgiveness. The rage he previously felt subsiding to a deep and profound sadness he never grew away from.

Hanzo couldn't remember exactly when he picked his brother up, but he remembers placing Genji down on the ground in front of an Overwatch official building. Watching through tears, he saw guards take the lifeless body of his brother into the building. He left that day with only one thing he wanted from the world, forgiveness.

.

.

.

He limped back to the Shimada clan, rain and tears blurring his vision. The bloody sword sheathed on his back. The elders of the clan questioned him, Hanzo didn't register a single word, they said. He left for his private quarters, just numb to everything now.

Shedding himself of clothes, he stared at himself in the mirror, blood covered him. The tattoo of the dragon stared at him, a bitter reminder of the death he caused. The only other person to weird the power of the dragon was now dead, and he killed him. Hanzo stared at himself, a murderer and for what? He stayed like that for hours, anger festering at the elders who drove him to this moment. Hanzo patched his wounds alone, and every cloth turning red as he worked took him back to the image of Genji's lifeless body. Blinking tears away, he finished the bindings, red seeped into the bandage, but he didn't pay that mind. He had a goal.

Hanzo stumbled over to his brothers room, opening the door and entering he just stared, his eyes drofting towards the desk. Hanzo saw a picture of Genji and him, both in the arms of their father. He wept harder than he ever did before, Hanzo held onto his brother's orange scarf, still discarded on the table. Hanzo never wished for something harder. He regretted every time they fought, every time he wronged him, and the fact he was the one to end a life so young.

He wanted his brother back.

.

.

.

"Hanzo?"

He remembers the rime they were boys, his brother at the time had recently lost his front tooth. Genji was a cute kid, full of life and childish wonder.

"Yes, brother?"

Hanzo was sharpening his blade. The Shimada garden always provided him that peace he needed to focus on the blade. He had just finished sparing and was taking a breather, Genji seemingly loved to watch him. At the time, he wasn't old enough to wield a blade.

"What's it like.. to you know, swing that cool sword?"

He chuckled, Genji was just a boy and yet already was leaping at the chance to hold a sword.

"There's alot behind weilding a blade, it takes focus and understanding in both your ability and the blade's."

Hanzo watches as Genji's face scrunched into a look of annoyance.

"Noo.. I meant what it's like to go, swoosh! Slice!! Shing!! Not some stupid life lesson.. I already hear enough of that from dad.."

With each sound effect, Genji mimicked moves he saw his brother do, just poorly and with an invisible sword. Hanzo chuckled before getting up. In one swift motion, he sliced a branch off of a small bush nearby. He picked it up and picked off any small branches and leaves not needed. He handed the now cleaned branch to his brother, Genji was happy to follow his older brother's guidance on simple begginer sword moves.

An hour passed, and Genji had picked up the moves surprisingly fast, even faster then Hanzo when he was first learning.

"Do you want to try sparring?"

"YES."

Hanzo retrieved a nearby branch. It was bent and not straight, but that wasn't important to him. And together they sparred, Genji was surprisingly very adept at picking up cues of when Hanzo would move. It was still easy to win against him, but Hanzo did admire the promise Genji had. Even with an old bent stick, he was able to swing Genji's branch out of his hands, giving Hanzo the victory.

Genji had huffed before plopping down onto the grass, crossing his arms in a childish pout.

"Hmph. If I had a real sword I would've won! Not fair you're so old."

Hanzo smiled before sitting down beside his brother, patting his head as he did.

"Hah.. I might have age against you, but past that, I believe it was a fair fight. When you're older, you will definitely be a threat to any person you fight."

Genji's eyes widened, his smile grew and Hanzo saw he was practically vibrating in excitement.

"You think so!?"

Hanzo nodded.

"Yes, you react fast. And you picked up those moves faster then I've seen, the dragon stirs within you."

"When I'm older I'm so gonna beat your butt in a fight!!"

"Perhaps. I suppose we will have to wait and see."

.

.

.

Hanzo barely registered the words the elders yelled at him. He sat on the floor, his knees digging into the uncooked rice on the ground. News of Genji's passing reached the elders. It was a crimscene in the garden. With each sting of pain adding to his torment, it's what he deserved for the death of his brother.

"You were supposed to get him in line. Not to kill him, you disgraced the Shimada clan with your impulsivity."

Hanzo took the verbal abuse from each elder. He deserved it. But as each moment passed, he felt that anger to the elders return. It was their demands that led him to this, it was their fault Genji was dead. Each shoot of rice angered him, he got up and started to walk away.

"Where do you think you're going!? Kneel back down, you aren't allowed to just walk away from responsibility."

Hanzo felt his hand clench into a fist. He took note of the nearby bow and quiver mounted on the wall beside him. Before he was stopped, the bow was in his hand, and the arrow pulled back and spinning towards the center elders' head. Yelling and screaming filled his ears, Hanzo watched coldly as the lifeless body of the elder collapsed to the ground. He turned and ran, quiver around his body and arrow in his hand. Each guard was swifty handled with my hand to hand combat.

He escaped the grounds of the Shimada clan, taking cover in an old abandoned shack on the outskirts of Hanamura. He pulled out the orange scarf he held in his pocket, just days prior that scarf was around his brothers neck when he would go out and do whatever he did in a day. Now, it was in Hanzo's hand, never to be used by Genji again and serving a bitter reminder of what Hanzo had lost.

That day, Hanzo made an enemy of himself. He had a price tag on his head. But that day, Hanzo freed himself of those very ideals that led him to take his brother's life. He now had the goal of forgiveness and to mourn his brother's death.

[incubaeswriting]

Looking for Fandom MxM RPs

Hi there! I'm Matthew (Or Dean), my pronouns are he/him, and I'm 19 and have been writing for about as long as I can remember. I'm an aspiring novelist, and in my freetime enjoy reading and writing rps along with making OCs and art. I'm looking to add some more rps and rp partners! I could probably be talked into doing ocxoc or ocxcanon rps, but mxm is nonnegotiable. I am of course open to transmen and transmasc characters/headcanons. My rps are usually plot and story heavy, but I do include smut and NSFW, so all my partners and characters must be 18+. I am open to dark/angsty plots as well as lighter/fluffier plots. Below I will list some ships I'm interested in and possible rp ideas!

Some of these may be nsfw so I ask that minors DNI or read further, thank you.

Batjokes (DCU)

What can I say, I'm a sucker for angst and disfunction. I have the most experience writing as Joker, but am also able to write as Bruce. Transjoker is a pretty big headcanon of mine, but if you're interested in cismale Joker that isn't a problem either.

A current plot I have in mind can be adapted to a nonsuperhero AU- Joker and Harley are splitsville, and without her Joker finds he has no one to turn to in his time of need. What may be that time of need, you're clearly asking. After being cornered and beat to shit by a Gotham orginized crime team for being late on his payments (again) he realizes he needs some real help with his addictions, and a place to stay where he won't be hunted down. He knows it's a long shot, and he'll probably be sent back to Arkham just for him to escape for the 10000th time, but he figures Batman is his only hope for change.

Open to alternative plots, of course.

Steddie or Harringrove (Stranger Things)

Also open to Steve x Eddie x Billy. I usually write Steve, but am able to write all three of these boys.

Drarry or Draco/Ron (Harry Potter)

I prefer to write as Harry or Ron, but can also write Draco. Alternativley I am also open to Harry x Ron.

Loki x Canon Male Character (MCU)

I'm kind of a multishipper when it comes to Loki, so I'm open to most ships involving him and a canon male character from the MCU. I prefer to write against Loki, but am open to writing as him.

Most of my plots surrounding Loki are dependent on which character I'm pairing him against, so add me on discord to brainstorm with me if you're interested!

Cassidy x Hanzo or Genji x Rammatra (Overwatch)

I have most experience writing the shimada brothers, but have also dabbled on Cassidy and Rammatra.

Arthur Morgan x John Marston (RDR2)

I write usually as John, but can also write Arthur.

My discord is incubae_ feel free to add me and talk to me there!

[blukrown]

Purge It From Your Mind (NSFW)

Cole Cassidy/Hanzo Shimada (Yeehan)

Cole Cassidy had a problem. A problem that was about the size and weight of a Japanese archer that had him distracted on missions and his mind always wandering. After all, how could he not?

Read it on AO3 here

WARNING! This fic features - Sexual acts

Cole Cassidy had a problem. A problem that was about the size and weight of a Japanese archer that had him distracted on missions and his mind always wandering. After all, how could he not?

Hanzo Shimada was a man of steel and trained-wit, poise and elegance. Cole always found himself looking to Hanzo in the shooting range. Hoping to catch a glance of well-earned muscles pulling taught as it pulled back the bow’s string. Watching his fingers graze the tail end of the arrow, tracing over the artificial feathers before he let them fly. Trying not to ogle at Hanzo’s state of dress, which often had one side of his torso revealed to show off one of the man’s well-toned pecs and nipple, which was almost like a target for Cole’s eyes to shoot straight to.

Cole had had thoughts of the less savory sort about the archer too. Wanting to see if his skin coloured when he was embarrassed or lustful. Wondering how big he was beneath his traditional robes. Dreaming of laying waste to those soft lips by kisses or something even more unsavoury.

After a month of Hanzo’s presence haunting him. Cole knew this had to stop. He would be a liability on missions and just more of a bumbling fool if he did not get this archer out of his head.

But he did not have to worry, as he already had a well-concocted plan that had already proved successful several times.

When Cole’s eyes began to wander and daydream of things not appropriate for the current arrangement, Cole Cassidy made an illicit arrangement.

It worked with Ashe when he was in the Deadlock Gang and with Gabriel when he was in Blackwatch.

The strategy was for Cole to fuck these thoughts out of his system. One night, to indulge in these desires and then it was like he had never had the urge in the first place. Once the deed was done, he would preface the arrangement as a one-off sort of thing and then Cole and the person who had been occupying his mind would become amicable once again.

So it came to be that one night, after a successful mission, the team had drinks back at base. Winston’s usual strict no alcohol or drugs policy had been wavered thin by things like Cole’s cigars and Lucio’s blunts. So Winston had thrown the policy out the door after a lot of pleading from a few of the newer recruits.

The perfect opportunity.

With liquid courage in both him and Hanzo, he would have a perfect in for conversation of the less professional variety.

Cole had a few beers and some of Tjorbjorn’s well-bragged whisky, while he could see Hanzo sipping at wine and shots of soju with Hana and Genji.

As some of the older members like Ana, Soldier: 76 and Reinhardt started retreating and some of the younger members were now all too distracted by the holo-screen and some racing game to notice, Cole made his approach.

Hanzo, at this point, was sitting at one of the tables in the rec room by the windows. There was no moonlight but the dulled artificial lights of the kitchen to light up the archer’s face to see he was looking outside. He looked contemplative, with a slight furrow of his brow nonetheless, he at least looked peaceful. Cole had the thought to not bother him, there would be other opportunities but Hanzo looked away from the window just as Cole had paused his approach.

“Cassidy,” Hanzo said with a polite nod of the head, acknowledging his presence.

Cole pulled from his collection a smaller but still cocky smirk as he took a few steps further forward to hover at Hanzo’s table. “Evenin’ Shimada.” He said, giving an out-of-habit tip of the hat.

“Is there something you need from me this evening?” Hanzo asked, one of his hands reaching out to the empty soju glass and rolling it by the base of the glass.

Cole let out a huff of a chuckle, “What, I can’t come over and join you in your silent contemplation?”

“No, but I have a sense that is not the reason,” Hanzo says, his handsome eyes looking unflinchingly into his.

Cole let out another chuckle and he found himself lifting his flesh hand to stroke his beard in an awkward fidget. “Ye got me there.” For a moment he paused his usual routine at this point stunted by Hanzo’s dept perceptive eyes.

His grin grew as he placed his mechanical hand down on the table and leaned, allowing his hip to touch the table in a self-assured way to enter Hanzo’s personal space. “I was curious to see if you wanted some company tonight, someone to warm your bed perhaps?” Cole’s grin only widened as he found his edge again.

He had expected Hanzo to blush, to avert his eyes, to bluster out surprise, or some combination of all three. But instead, one of Hanzo’s eyebrows arched.

“And you are offering yourself, cowboy?” Hanzo asked, steeled face loosening into the smallest of smirks.

Cole felt his skin warm, surprised by the sudden flirtation in Hanzo’s voice. He gave a small but distinct nod. “O-Of course. How could I not? You were lookin’ mighty fine in the field today. Must admit I couldn’t keep my eyes offa you.”

Hanzo seemed, shockingly, unperturbed. As if Cole was talking about the weather rather than offering him sex.

“Well,” Hanzo began as he stood from his chair. “Shall we meet at your quarters in an hour, then?”

Cole’s veneer almost broke at how casual Hanzo took up his invite but he did not lose face. “Sounds like a plan, partner.”

Hanzo gave him another graceful nod, taking his glass to the sink on his way.

Cole heard Genji from the couch, where he had been pleading with Hana to let him choose the map, when he must have seen his older brother leave. “Nii-san, going to bed so soon?” Genji called with his partially mechanized voice.

“Indeed, I wish to rest for I may be doing some physical endeavours.” His eyes glancing to Cole where he still stood at the table by the window.

“Training?” Genji replied, and then let out a small chuckle. “You never rest, do you, brother?”

Hanzo did not oblige the question with an answer, only giving another bow-like nod to the room at large before making his exit.

One tenuous, painful, snail’s paced hour went by.

Cole had retreated to his quarters and quickly ensured his bed and room were neat, thereby leaving him about 50 minutes left. He then went to the balcony just from his quarters for a cigar, which had him at 20 minutes. A quick toilet break took it to 15 minutes. Cole could have sworn his clock was broken or just mocking him as it slowly climbed up the numbers. Just as the clock clicked to an hour since Cole’s offer, and he was considering going to get a bottle of water from the kitchen fridge, when there was a knock at the door.

Cole shot up from where he had been laying on his back on the bed. Quickly checked one last time that his quarters were in acceptable condition, then got to the door. Unsurprisingly and right on time, Hanzo stood on the other side. Instead of his field gear, which he had still worn at the spontaneous party earlier, he had dressed down.

He now wore a skivvy-like turtleneck that held tight to his body and his distinct frame, along with cargo pants that were belted up higher on his waste. He looked . . . nice. Was the most controlled thing Cole could think of as his eyes tried not to stare at how his nipples pointed hard through the fabric.

Cole must have paused at the door as Hanzo raised an eyebrow, “May I come in?”

“Wha- Oh, hah, yeah by all means.” Cole blustered, feeling his face tingling with warmth as he stepped aside to allow Hanzo entrance.

Hanzo took a few steps in and allowed his eyes to look over the quarters before turning back to Cole.

Before he could pull out one of his several lines of lewd suggestions or cocky quips, Hanzo was stepping towards him. Cole was surprised to feel himself step back until his back was to the adjacent wall. Hanzo’s hands took to either side of Cole, impeding any possible exit.

Cole must have appeared surprised as Hanzo’s eyebrows furrowed. “Are you sure this is what you want, Cassidy?”

Cole let out a small laugh, trying to pull his swagger from where he must have dropped it. “Of course, darlin’. What about you?”

“Of course. The only other question I must ask is, how far would you prefer this interaction to go?” Hanzo’s voice was strong and certain, serious but not concerned.

“As far as you’ll let me have.” Cole quickly replied, trying to find some way to put Hanzo on the back foot.

“Then I will have you in many ways,” Hanzo said before he leaned forward, raising himself on his toes partially to take Cole’s mouth into a kiss.

Cole was surprised by the certainty of Hanzo’s lips. Unflinching and confident as they grazed his own. He could feel Hanzo’s beard tickle his cheek but that only reeled him in more. Lips gilded and Cole was - although very much enjoying it - trying to find how to get the reigns back on this. He took both hands to both sides of Hanzo’s waist, enjoying the feeling of strength in the muscles but also the small sizzle of lust as he realized how small his waist was.

Hanzo gave Cole’s bottom lip a playful nibble as his own smooth but finger-tip calloused hands came to his face. One cupped the side of Cole’s face to keep him close, urging him to stay and deepen the embrace. The other went to the back of his head, carding through the back of Cole’s mussed hair.

Cole restrained a shiver, very much enjoying those thoughtful hands, finally, on him. Trying to get back on top, Cole let his tongue dash out and was very quickly greeted by Hanzo’s own. Appearing like he was losing the fight by the kiss, he may still win the war by touch. The hands at either of Hanzo’s hips pulled the archer closer until they were chest to chest.

He could hear a huff of air come from Hanzo’s nose, clearly not bothered by the gesture. Cole made a grunting noise of his own when one of Hanzo’s knees went between either of Cole’s legs in a round-a-bout but very intentional way. Cole’s crotch, although awakened already by now, started heating as it felt the friction of Hanzo’s knee. This only being exacerbated when Hanzo, carefully, tugged at the hair between his fingers.

Cole let out another moan, surprising even himself that he enjoyed it. Let himself reel in the sensations of a deepening and growingly messy kiss and Hanzo’s well-calculated touch. But he could not allow Hanzo to keep leading, this was not how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to lead, which would allow him to get this lustful-crotch demon to release the grip Hanzo had on his mind.

He used the hands-on Hanzo’s hips to usher them away from the wall, in the direction of the bed. His hands tugged at Hanzo’s turtleneck until his hands pulled away from him to lift to allow it to vanish from his person.

As they reached the bed, Cole was ready to have Hanzo fall on his back and to go on top of him. Thereby by the de facto leader and for this all to get back on track. But, once again, Hanzo had other plans. Just at the last moment, Hanzo swivelled them both around until it was Cole’s back to the mattress, not the archers. And without even breaking their lips apart, Hanzo gracefully climbed on top to sit in Cole’s lap.

Heart beating fast in his chest in both lust-related excitement but also adrenaline, Cole could not help but chuckle. “I’m impressed.” He uttered through tongues and lips, objectively giving Hanzo a compliment for the maneuver.

Hanzo actually pulled away from the kiss, allowing both men to take large breaths. “Do not think that I am so easily swayed to subservience, cowboy,” Hanzo said, voice far more gravelly than Cole was expecting and the use of the nickname all going straight to his cock, which was already beginning to tent in his slack jeans.

Cole let out another singular huff of a laugh, “Duly noted, darlin’.” Was all he could muster before Hanzo recaptured his lips.

This time, the kiss was rougher, even more messy and Cole did not resist. Although this was not as he planned, he was beginning to like this assertive, taking what he wants, Hanzo. It was something that Cole would not have expected from the archer.

Both of Hanzo’s hands retreated back to Cole’s hair, combing through and taking a very fine grip. Not to tug but to pull till it was felt and Cole did not restrain a grunt in silent pleased acknowledgement. Cole’s own hands retreated to Hanzo’s hips, jostling the archer only slightly in his open lap to align Hanzo’s firm ass with Cole’s burgeoning erection. It was then Cole had considered something. Maybe Hanzo wanted to top? Afterall, he had pretty much unofficially taken the reigns to the rodeo. Perhaps this meant Cole would be receiving more ways than one? Cole had been the bottom a few times before but he had not prepared for that likelihood tonight.

But his thoughts were dashed as he felt Hanzo hips roll above him, rubbing his rear against Cole’s crotch to great effect, as it appears to both of them. They both pulled their lips away to let out simultaneous moans of pleasure.

Just to affirm his suspicions, Cole squeezed Hanzo’s hips, not to stop his grinding motions back and forth but to grab his attention. “You want me to take top?”

Hanzo had lowered his head to rest his forehead on the mattress below, his lips and facial hair tickling the nape of Cole’s neck.

“If you wish it,” Hanzo murmured, his voice low and only for Cole’s keened ears as his hips continued their gyrations. “I had prepared for such a possibility.”

The thought of Hanzo having spent the past hour preparing in such a way. Perhaps fingering himself to widen his hole out but not cumming just for the possibility of being fucked by Cole was something that - Cole Cassidy would not admit - nearly tipped him over the edge.

Biting on the inside of his cheek to keep from ending far too soon, Cole still let out a grunt at the thought. “W-Well, we better start movin’ along.”

“Indeed.” Hanzo almost whispered. His dept fingers lowering from Cole’s head to reach for the hem of Cole’s shirt.

Obliging, Cole arched his back, allowing Hanzo to push his shirt up his body and over his head to vanish to the floor somewhere. The archer’s hands then from neck to shoulders, dragged his calloused fingers over his chest, running over his pecs and down his stomach. Eliciting a visible shiver as Cole felt Hanzo’s lips kiss his neck.

Hanzo’s hands did not pause, intent on a mission Cole was very keen to continue. Without even looking, and impressing Cole, Hanzo undid the belt, button and fly of Cole’s pants in one swift motion. Waiting only for Cole to lift his hips up to ruck the jeans down to his ankles and to kick them off his feet to the floor.

Cole, no longer fighting for dominance only to continue things right along, took to Hanzo’s pant waistband but found he had far more difficulty undoing the almost mocking top button.

“Lil’ help, darlin’?” Cole said gruffly, knowing he would only make a fool of himself if he continued.

“Not to worry,” Hanzo murmured, lifting his head to take Cole’s lips on his own as the archer’s fingers replaced his own. Easily, the pants loosened and, with quick succession, also disappeared.

Now both only in their underwear, the friction that Hanzo continued by his rolling hips against Cole’s cock, now through his briefs, was far more noticeable.

Hanzo, still kissing Cole managed to muster, “Would you like me to keep going? I could also use my hand.”

The thought made Cole’s cock twitch against Hanzo’s ass. Cole could only manage a nod and a, “Yeah.”

Hanzo readjusted himself a bit further back on Cole’s lap and Cole could very easily see Hanzo’s own tented excitement through his rather immodest jock strap.

Hanzo’s teasing hands, did a similar dragging to the fingertips down Cole’s chest only this time on the sides. Apart from ticklish, it was almost mocking as the archer took his sweet time before his hands grazed the waists and of Cole’s briefs. Almost as if Hanzo wanted him to feel his fingers and familiarise himself with his touch before going below.

Cole’s hips could but help but buck, urging Hanzo to go over his clothes, just for another scant touch.

Hanzo must have noticed this as he let out a chuckle. “You’re quite impatient.” He said in an observant whisper as he came lower to kiss where his jaw and neck met.

“Y-You’d be surprised what you’ve been doin’ to be so far -.” Cole mumbled before a grunt interrupted as he felt Hanzo playfully bite down on the skin of his neck. His lips then enfolded the abused skin in an open kiss and sucked it, urging the skin to colour into a bruise.

Hanzo lifted his head back to Cole’s face to take back his lips again as his hand, finally, slipped below the cloth of the briefs to touch him.

His hand trailed from base to tip, not holding him in a handful but rather cupping the length. Hanzo’s fingers reached the tip where his thumb rubbed over the slit, spreading the droplet of precum that was beginning to tear.

Cole bit down on his bottom lip to hold back a groan as Hanzo took his length into a solid grip. At a steady pace, he dragged the excess skin up and down to great satisfaction on Cole’s end. So much so his end was coming too close for comfort that he took to grab at Hanzo’s wrist.

“S-Sorry.” Cole grumbled into the kiss. “I ain’t gonna last much longer if you were to continue, darlin’.”

Hanzo realised his touch on Cole’s cock and sat up in the cowboys lap.

It was then that Cole got a full view of Hanzo and, boy, he had to wonder how he was going to forget and move on from this night.

Cole had kept on the inbuilt bedside lamp to provide some tempered lighting and he could only thank himself for doing so. Hanzo's face was a stoic mask apart from his cheeks that were dusted pink and his darkening lips from unbridled kissing, the archer may have looked just as he was any other day. At close examination, Hanzo’s hair was gradually falling from its bun, some locks falling down his face. Going down, Cole had seen Hanzo’s bare chest before but up close it was something else. Strong pectoral muscles and the dash of visible abs only emphasised the difference between the archer’s broad shoulders and his tapered waist. And then there was Hanzo’s underwear. Cole had felt a strap when they had been disrobbing but he was still surprised to see Hanzo in a rather bold navy blue jock strap. Hanzo’s cock stood firm and erect, straining against the fabric. As well as, to Cole’s delight, dampening at the spot where the tip of Hanzo’s member pressed painfully to the cloth. He did not hide the direction of his eyes as he looked over the delectable sight.

“Shall we continue on? Or should I just sit here and you can continue ogling me?” Hanzo said with only a twinge of impatience in his voice.

“Sorry,” Cole said, sitting up. “You can’t blame me though.”

Hanzo only let out a soft huff, moving off of Cole as he moved up the bed. Now with his back supported by the wall and a few pillows, Cole gestured for Hanzo to rejoin him, which the archer did without pause.

“Now,” Cole said, welcoming the feeling of Hanzo’s ass against his cock. “Where were we?”

“I believe you were about to fuck me, I was not mistaken,” Hanzo said bluntly.

Cole could not help but snort at the honesty and he felt Hanzo softly hit the side of his arm, clearly not impressed.

“Sorry, sorry,” Cole said, pressing his lips together to quell a full laugh. “I-I am just surprised that you're so . . . so brazen.”

“Oh?” Hanzo asked, crossing his arms over his chest as a single eyebrows rose.

“N-Not that it's a bad thing.” Cole hastily explained. “I was just not expecting it from you . . .”

“What, did you think I was going to be a blushing maiden?” Hanzo said, his tone almost joking but when he saw Cole’s face he frowned. “Well, you’re not the first.”

“Again, I don’t mind.” Cole consoled the archer. “Sorry about ruining the mood.”

Hanzo let out a small huff of a laugh, “Oh please, you would have probably ruined the mood in some other way, anyway.”

Cole let out a mocking gasp of hurt, “Presumptuous and domineering, really surprising me here Shimada.”

“And you’re annoying me, Cassidy,” Shimada said tursly.

Cole let out a chuckle, “Alright, alright. I’ll stop.” He let his flesh hand reach to touch Hanzo’s cheeks and he was silently pleased to feel the archer lean into the touch. “C’mere.” He urged, his voice lower as his hand urged Hanzo’s face down to him.

Hanzo’s look of bitterness softened to something Cole could not describe as they kissed again.

Cole surprised even himself to find their kiss this time was beginning tenderly. Soft and patient. Both mouths caressing and pressing to the other in a way that was not necessarily lustful but still made goosebumps rise on Cole’s forearms.

Within a few minutes, however, the kiss grew more heated and the hands of both men started to wander again.

Cole was pleased to feel a hand creep up to card in his hair again, holding Cole close to the archer as Hanzo took the lead. Guiding him in a kiss that soon included tongue and the occasional nip of teeth.

Cole’s hands adventured from hips to Hanzo’s behind, giving the two sets of muscles an experimental squeeze. He heard Hanzo grunt against him, arching his back and rotating his hips to grind against Cole’s front again.

After a few moments, Cole reluctantly pulled his lips away to grunt out. “Bedside table, there’s- uh lube and condoms in the top drawer.” Knowing he could not reach it, he offered the directions to Hanzo to do with them as he will.

The archer did not say a word, pulling away for only a few moments to stretch out to find the needed items. In those moments, Cole got an enjoyable little sight of Hanzo’s back. He got to see the muscles ripple and tighten as they stretched and turned not dissimilar over the pulling of the string of a bow.

Cole reached out to take the bottle and wrapped condom but Hanzo held them. “May I?” The archer asked, husky-voiced but polite as ever.

“By all means,” Cole responded, leaning back to watch and help if need be.

Hanzo put the bottle aside and put the wrapper between his teeth but did not open it just yet. His hands reached to Cole’s underwear and with a look to him, that warranted no objection, made quick moves to remove the last article of clothing as well as his own.

Hanzo was quick to rip the wrapping and with dept hands placed the condom right side up on the tip of Cole’s cock and down the length. The touch was a welcome one and Hanzo, kindly, let him savour it. The archer allowed his wrists to do a few jerks of his member before he occupied himself with the lube.

Cole hid his small feeling of discomfort as the cool lube touched the outer casing of his condom-covered length and welcomed Hanzo’s hand on his cock as he spread the drizzle along it.

Cole’s heartbeat was loud in his ears but he could still hear Hanzo as, after a dashing kiss, asked, “Ready?”

“Whenever you are, darlin’,” Cole replied, managing a grin as he watched on.

Hanzo, all while facing Cole, rose high on his knees, his hand reaching behind him to direct Cole’s length as he lowered. He kept the hands he held at Hanzo’s hips tense but not tight, conveying the thrill that sent blood down to Cole’s member to make it twitch. He felt Hanzo’s puckered entrance greet the tip and Cole bit the inside of his mouth, his mind going ahead of himself as it conjured just what to expect beyond. Hanzo, either truly very prepared or very eager or both, lowered with quick ease and - in one clean motion - descended until bottoming out.

Cole let his head roll on his shoulders as he felt a groan rumble in his throat and through his mouth. The hands on Hanzo’s hips squeezed as he gave himself a moment to take in the sensation of being inside the archer. Hanzo was tight but not discomforting, warm yet solid. And when Hanzo gave an experimental squeeze, the archer did not hide the smallest of smirks as he saw Cole moan.

“F-Fuck,” Cole moaned, raising his head to try for a cocky smile. “You really have surprised me tonight.”

“And I will continue if you will let me,” Hanzo replied, not looking too worse for wear apart from his chest rising and falling in quick succession.

“Please do,” Cole said, trying his best not to sound too pleading.

Hanzo reached and put both hands on either of Cole’s shoulders as a brace point and Cole could not deny the enjoyment of feeling Hanzo’s hard-pressing hands against him.

The archer was careful as he lifted his hips, although the muscles obliging, the entrance was tight and reluctant causing it to be very gratifying in Cole’s most lustful of opinions. Just as Cole’s tip was about to feel to cool air of the bedroom, Hanzo dropped taking him all back in with one fell swoop. Both men gasped and groaned at the sensation and paused just for a second. Cole had the urge to say another quip but kept it to himself, finding he did not want to distract Hanzo.

Hanzo let out a heavy breath, the fingers at Cole’s shoulders squeezing experimentally as he began a pace. Although not as dramatic a thrusting as the first, Hanzo created a good and gratifying rhythm. Lifting his hips slowly, dragging Cole’s cock against an inner wall that made Hanzo almost whimper. Then dropping with gravity quickly, pressing Cole’s member as deep and as hard as comfortably possible to, in Cole’s suspicions, press on the most desirable of spots.

Cole let himself be used by Hanzo, which he found he actually quite enjoyed. Almost being a viewer as he spectated Hanzo lay waste to his ass by riding Cole’s cock. Hanzo was soon out of breath but determined, brunting the bulk of the work but to his own detriment. Cole soon felt the hands at his shoulders begin to shake as overexertion and pleasure seemed to be threatening him to lose his inner beat.

Cole took a firmer grip on Hanzo’s hips, not pulling him or tugging him but to steady what he was about to do. As, to help both of them reach their cusp, Cole started to thrust upwards just as Hanzo came down. Each time Cole wanted all the more to press to that pleasurable place.

Cole could feel his end nearing, feel it in the tightening in his balls and the soft pleasing ache at the tip of his cock. He was looking forward to his end, feeling his climax crash over him and seeing it take hold of Hanzo.

His hands gripped tightly on Hanzo’s thighs, urging to keep going but uttering a warning. “H-Han, I’m gettin’ close.” His voice was gruff and faltering as the wave of his end kept building

Cole watched with great satisfaction as Hanzo bit his bottom lip screwing his eyes shut in focus. His forehead was shimmering with sweat at the exercise. Clearly wishing to quicken his own end, he took a hand from Cole’s shoulder and reached down. Taking his own cock in hand, he started pumping himself hastily. Unlike his hips which were still rolling in that same mirthful rhythm, the archer’s hand was feverish, uncaring of patience.

The sight of this, seeing Hanzo at his most vulnerable, cock in hand and inside him all the while becoming a sweaty and blissful mess, had Cole climaxing. He could not help but squeeze Hanzo’s hips to the point of bruising, his toes curling and his back arching. His hips bucked rather unceremoniously as he pumped as much of his own ejaculant as deep as possible into Hanzo.

As Cole was slowly coming down from his own high, he could, through bleary eyes, see Hanzo reach his own.

Hips ceasing when Cole finished, Hanzo's hand desperately jerked his own length until he crashed. The hand that was still on Cole’s shoulder squeezed so hard he felt Hanzo’s nails dig into the skin. Cum then spilled into Hanzo’s and on Cole’s stomach. His insides tightening so firmly that, if Cole had not cum before, he would have most certainly then. The archer then let out one long moan, fading off into a heavy sigh as his body soon loosened.

The archer, still with Cole inside him, lowered till he was laying on top of the other man. Both of their chests heaving and  sticking to each other thanks to the post-coital sweat. For a moment there was silence as breathing evened and their body temperature soon cooled.

Cole was only partly disappointed as Hanzo sat up and soon unseated himself around Cole’s cock.

“There’s a towel that you can use by the door,” Cole offered, pointing. He would get it himself but his legs had started to fall asleep and were tingling with pins and needles.

Hanzo was quick to get up and return with the rag, wiping himself clean as he stood. Cole let out a grunt as he sat up, pulling the condom carefully off his now limpening cock. He then tied the end and threw it in the bin by the bed. Hanzo had rejoined him on the bed by now and, in silent offering, used the rag to wipe the archer’s cum off Cole’s stomach.

“Did you . . .” Cole began awkwardly, “Did you enjoy yerself?”

There was a glimmer in Hanzo eye of surprise as a small but meaningful smile took to his lips. “I did, yes. And you?”

“Y-Yeah of course,” Cole replied quickly, pulling his own hair aside to wipe at his sweaty brow with a hand.

There was then silence. And Cole realized that this was when everything was to go back to normal. He had had his fun, although not in the way he had first imagined. Cole could go back to not having the archer occupy his thoughts every second of every day and all would be right again. . . But would it? His own mind asked him.

Cole could not help but look to Hanzo. The archer was still naked and was seated neatly beside him, skin not quite touching but COle could feel the heat from Hanzo's skin.

Cole was wondering just what to say to Hanzo, whether to ask him to leave or to stay, when Hanzo spoke first.

“May I inquire whether this is intended to be a solutary occasion or . . . something ongoing?” Cole was surprised to hear hesitancy in Hanzo’s voice. The archer did not look up from where his gaze lay on his own hands.

“Uhm . . .” Cole said dumbly, “What do you think?”

Hanzo looked up to give him a look of annoyance, clearly a bit off-put being asked to offer his thoughts up first even thoguht he was the one to ask. The archer's eyes looked between Cole’s own as if trying to read him before he made his reply. “I would think this could be the first of an ongoing arrangement.”

Cole licked his lips, averting from Hanzo’s gaze to let his mind think. This was supposed to end here. They were supposed to go back to normal, never to talk about it nor pursue something similar again. But he felt a faint twinge somewhere in his chest. Hanzo had surprised him in many ways, simple curiosity had him faltering as well as something more . . . Something Cole did not wish to acknowledge just yet.

Fuck it.

“I was thinkin’ something along the same lines as that actually.” Cole finally answered, looking to Hanzo and giving him a smaller but bright grin.

[solivar]

Ghost Stories On Route 66

Chapter One

The cheapass rental car’s motivator sputtered and died for the last time on some officially unnamed, only dubiously mapped road in the hills southwest of Santa Fe. Fortunately, the antigrav batteries had just enough charge left in them that the whole thing didn’t just drop onto the cracked and weathered remains of the pavement, which probably would have done enough damage to render his life a miserable morass of insurance forms and impecunious college student special pleading for the foreseeable future. Unfortunately, when it did drop, once he got out and half-pushed, half-steered it to the side of the road, it promptly buried itself up to the axles in the drifted sand making up most of the verge, listing rather definitely to one side.

“Fuck,” Hanzo Shimada informed the universe at large and went to pop open the hood.

He was greeted by a malodorous cloud of steam that stank rather noticeably of vaporized coolants, accompanied by a deep and rather alarming bubblebubbleticktickpTANG from deep inside the motivator’s mechanical workings. To his admittedly untrained ear, it sounded like the thing was about to a) explode, b) rupture all its previously air/liquid-tight fittings, c) fall completely out of the compartment, or d) all of the above. He let the hood fall shut, gently, because he emphatically did not want to do anything to encourage any of those outcomes and got out his phone to call for help.

He had no bars of connection. In the distance, he heard the universe laughing in a rather distinctly malicious, mocking fashion.

“It’s all right,” Hanzo told himself, out loud, because the sound of his own voice on this dusty, not-particularly-traveled-at-all stretch of almost-road gave him an inordinate degree of comfort as the shadow of a circling vulture fell across him. “It is all right. It’s 3:42. If I’m not home by six, six-thirty at the absolute latest, Genji will call the state highway patrol and tell them that his idiot brother drove off into the desert that morning to draw pictures of the death of human civilization and it’s Friday and and and Genji is going to spend the next seventy-two hours deeply chemically altered, slathered in psychotropic massage oil, and twisted into some kind of semi-Tantric love pretzel in his Yoga instructor’s lap and you are going to die of exposure and dehydration if you don’t start walking right now. I am such an idiot.”

The trunk contained his jacket, his backpack, a first aid kit, an emergency crank flashlight, a spare antigrav pod, a set of jumper cables, and four triangular road reflectors with onboard distress transponders that, when he tested them for charge, turned out to be as dead as the engine. He set them up, nonetheless, on the off chance that something might come along the road that would need to see his disabled vehicle well enough to avoid hitting it. The first aid kit contained a handful of loose biotic-impregnated bandages of various sizes, some sterile saline wound wipes, a pair of nitrile gloves, and, thankfully, an emergency shock blanket. That and the flashlight went into the backpack along with the remainder of his own supplies: three sketchbooks, a set of watercolor pencils, the highish quality camera he always carried to help with shot composition references back in the studio, a spare flannel shirt, one and a half bottles of water from the eight pack he’d carried into the desert that morning, and the apple and protein bar that he’d decided to save for later when he sat down to eat lunch in the shadow of a rusted out hulk of formerly intelligent and self-directed machinery. He put the flannel on over his tee-shirt and the jacket on over both, because the sun would be down in forty-five minutes, an hour at most, and once that happened it was going to be cold. And he, of course, did not have a single pair of gloves stashed in any of his pockets.

Still. Before the GPS had punked out, along with the engine, it had indicated following this road north would, eventually , lead back to the non-dead sort of civilization. The sort that contained reasonably accessible hot showers with which to wash away sandy grit still stained ashen and venti nonfat chai lattes with which to chase away various sorts of cold and also, in theory, people way, way more responsible than his brother, whom he passive-aggressively hoped was enjoying his tetrahydrocannabinol enhanced love-nest, the rotten little bastard.

After the first hour of walking, he stopped checking his phone every ten minutes to see if he had connection. Not only did he not have connection, glancing down at his screen killed his night vision, which made walking down even the middle of an untravelled stretch of highway an exercise in trying not to trip, break an ankle, or otherwise render himself incapable of moving effectively in the direction of his own rescue. The road surface hadn’t been maintained in years, possibly decades, maybe even before the Crisis, and it was zig-zagged with inches-deep cracks driven even deeper and further apart by endless cycles of freeze and thaw, parts of the roadbed lifted high enough to be a transit hazard for antigrav vehicles much less pedestrians walking in the near-total dark, others depressed in a way that suggested impact craters more than the natural erosion of time and indifference. As the last of the color bled off the western horizon, he paused long enough to give the emergency flashlight a good long cranking and found, even so, that its light was wan and dim, at best, but infinitely better than nothing, waiting for moonrise, or running his phone battery to death. After the second hour of walking, the darkness was no longer near-total, it was absolute in the way it could only be in the complete absence of all but the smallest traces of man-made light. On the one hand, it was stunning: the sky overhead was clear and cloudless, unmarred by light pollution, and the stars shone brilliantly in that velvety arch, a hundred million silvery eyes gazing benevolently down in their serene and distant celestial majesty. On the other hand, being the sole source of man-made light in the middle of the otherwise unrelieved blackness made him rather feel like he was being observed by things far less celestial and benevolent, considerably closer to the ground, and far more intent on running him to ground and gnawing the flesh off his bones. Occasionally, the flashlight imparted to him glimpses of sulfurous yellow-green eyes glittering just out of easy visibility, alarming enough in their predatory silence that only the chancy footing kept him from speeding up his stride. Not running. That would be bad. But walking with a bit more enthusiasm.

Sometime during the third hour, the wind picked up, scouring across the high desert floor and carrying with it hissing currents of sand and icy pellets that were neither snow nor sleet but a little bit of both. The sky clouded over, taking even the distant comfort of starlight, and he pulled out the emergency blanket and wrapped it around him to help retain some body heat. Somewhere in the middle of hour four, he pulled out his phone and, discovering himself still without connection, opened up his recording app and began dictating the please-don’t-blame-yourself message he’d been writing in his head for at least the last forty minutes so that, when his coyote-gnawed carcass was eventually found by the authorities, the hormones-and-namaste addled little dumbass he called his only family worth having would at least not feel bad about it.

By the time the lights wavered into view in the distance, he had officially stopped counting the hours. He had also officially stopped having any appreciable sensation in his hands, and his feet, and his legs were only making themselves known because his thighs hated him and wanted him to fall over and be eaten by coyotes so they could at least peacefully rest in the process of digestion. In fact, it took him quite some time to realize that he wasn’t hallucinating the vista before him which was, in fact, two strings of full-sized light bulbs strung between the side of the road, where they were attached to a pair of old fashioned utility poles, and from there to each side of an overhanging porch roof.

A house, Hanzo’s almost inexpressibly cold and weary brain realized after a long moment of staring dully, trying to make sense of what it was seeing. A house with lights. Actual working lights. There are lights on both inside and outside that house. It is a house. Lights. People. A PHONE.

He trudged slowly off the road and up the path -- the path which was lined in white-washed rocks and little beds of succulents which may or may not have been cared for, he couldn’t quite tell -- and from the path up the porch stairs, which extracted a price from his knees that he was sure he’d be hearing about for days, at least. Tucking the blanket under his arm in an effort to look slightly less pathetic, he raised a hand and knocked in what he hoped was a firm but non threatening manner on the heavy old unwindowed door.

In his mind, the response seemed to take forever: movement, footsteps, the curtains in the window next to the door moving slightly while he locked his knees and wavered slightly on his feet, tired and cold and trying not to shiver too visibly. Then: the door creaked, the light next to it came on, and he found himself gazing directly at someone’s collarbones, around the crack of a barely opened door. “Can I help you?”

Someone was tall -- taller than himself by a good head, eyes dark and narrowed slightly, expression not particularly welcoming. Well, he supposed he could hardly blame someone living in the middle of the desert miles from any other humans for not being particularly happy to have one turn up uninvited on his doorstep in the middle of the night. “Hello -- my apologies, I saw your lights and -- “ The ability to think in coherent sentences momentarily skittered away, laughing mockingly. “Listen, my car broke down back that way and -- “ He gestured vaguely over his shoulder in the direction he had just come, “I’ve got no connection on my cell and I was really just wondering if you could just...borrow your phone for a minute to call a tow? I’ll just be on my way then and -- “

“ That way.” The door opened more fully with a labored creak and Someone stepped out, glanced both ways, and then looked at him, expression going from moderately suspicious to moderately appalled between one breath in the next. “You’re from the city. Holy Hell.”

“How can you tell?” Hanzo asked, genuinely curious and borderline hypothermic all at once.

“Your student ID’s hanging out of your jacket pocket,” Someone observed perspicaciously and threw open the door. “Get in here before you freeze to death. How long have you been walking?”

“I...don’t know? A while.” The warmth inside enfolded him like an embrace and it was all he could do to control the urge to moan. A fire burned in an actual honest-to-gods fieldstone fireplace in one corner of the trim little sitting room and a gentle hand in the small of his back steered him toward it, and the couch sitting a safe distance back from the spark guard.

Those same hands divested him of his backpack and the emergency blanket, both of which went on a chair nearby, pushed him down into the couch’s soft cushions and spread a far thicker and warmer blanket over him. “You’re almost blue. Stay under the blanket and warm up while I get you something to drink. And don’t close your eyes, okay? Just until I’m sure you’re -- “

And that was, in fact, the last thing Hanzo heard before he totally closed his eyes and drifted off into a pleasingly warm darkness.

*

Hanzo woke up suddenly and all at once. His mouth tasted like something small and innocent had crawled inside it in the night, died a slow and terrible death, and then rotted into putrescence, the results of which were coating his tongue, his cheeks, and every single one of his teeth. His head was throbbing with the sort of headache that could only be described as skullfucking, centered as it was directly behind his left eye. These things were, however, not what jarred him from an otherwise satisfyingly deep and mostly painless slumber. Rather it was the smell , coming from somewhere quite nearby, cooking smells, outrageously wonderful cooking smells, smells that caused his stomach to roll over, remind the rest of him that the apple and protein bar had been a long time ago, and it was time to get in gear and remedy that fact more or less immediately.

He cautiously opened the eye that didn’t feel like it was being stabbed by a red-hot spiked dildo of agony and found himself looking up at a gently arched ceiling, dark open wood ribs and whitewashed plaster, a darkened chandelier light fixture hanging almost directly overhead. The light leaking in through the still mostly-drawn curtains didn’t punish his head more than it had to, and so he opened the other eye, as well, rubbing the involuntary tearing away with the back of his hand. A fire still burned low in the fieldstone fireplace -- a kiva , his brain supplied the information, organically rounded all the way up the wall and through, sculpted with a pair of little niches higher on the flue, a mantle over top and a spark guard high enough off the floor to function as a seat on its own, covered in a gorgeously colorful geometric mosaic. One niche had a tiny pot in it containing an equally tiny flowering cactus; the other a polished wooden sculpture of a horse rearing on its hind legs. Most of the furniture was honest-to-gods old, dark wood not the new-synthetic-realistically-aged stuff, he could smell it, spicy and rich as the lingering tang of the woodsmoke, covered in cushions upholstered in the sort of patterns he’d become intimately familiar with during his Native Textile Arts of the Desert Southwest elective two semesters ago. The area rug right under the little coffee table, too, upon which sat a clear glass pitcher containing a substance too vividly red-orange to be natural, an empty glass, two small white tablets and three large tan ones, and a note that read drink two glasses when you wake up and take the meds, you’re going to need them.

Moving slowly, oh so slowly, slow as a slow-ass thing to avoid aggravating his body more than he had to, Hanzo sat up and slid his legs over the side of the couch. His legs, which were no longer clad in his own jeans but rather a pair of dark olive greenish sweatpants. A small part of his brain thought he should be loudly and extravagantly upset by this development; a substantially larger part was loudly and extravagantly grateful that he hadn’t slept in a pair of pants that he’d spent all day hiking across the desert, and then walking for an unknown length of time up a deserted road, in. The socks also felt comfortably soft and clean and new rather than caked in sweat and sand. So did the tee-shirt, which he noted was a pale tan with a somewhat darker patch in the shape of a roughly shaped arrowhead, point down, washed almost completely away on the left. Hanzo decided that he owed his rescuer something loud and extravagant, though he wasn’t quite sure what just yet.

The unnaturally vivid beverage tasted like what would happen if a citrus fruit fucked a salt lick and the resulting offspring were subsequently captured and juiced for their vital fluids. It was simultaneously repellent and delicious and he gulped down three glasses of it before he remembered he had medicine yet to take. The pills turned out to be a pair of regular aspirin and probably some kind of vitamins and by the time he got them all down someone somewhere quite close by had begun whistling and the delicious-food-cooking smells had reached the scent equivalent of a crescendo and Hanzo’s stomach made a long, embarrassingly loud noise of dismay over the fact that he wasn’t yet eating. One that apparently carried because the whistling suddenly stopped and an unseen voice, vaguely familiar, asked, “Mr. Shimada? Are you awake?”

Firmly throttling his shame, Hanzo cleared his throat. “Yes -- I just woke up a few minutes ago.” It was on the tip of his tongue to ask how his rescuer new his name but then he saw his wallet, his Santa Fe University of Art and Design student ID on its brick red lanyard, and the keys to the goddamned POS rental car that was the author of all his most recent woes sitting on the coffee table and solved the mystery for himself. “Give me a second and I’ll -- “

He heaved himself to his feet -- or, rather, he attempted to heave himself to his feet and, in that instant, every muscle in his legs and lower back registered their displeasure with his continued existence immediately and simultaneously and it was all he could do not to crash directly into the table as he fell. “....ow.”

“Oh no.” Footsteps rapidly approached from somewhere beyond the back of the couch. “Easy there, sugar. Let me help you up.”

A pair of warm, strong hands came to rest on him and, in relatively short order, they got him warmly and strongly relocated back off the floor and into a reasonably comfortable sitting position on the couch in a nest of colorfully patterned wool blankets. Hanzo found himself looking upon his rescuer for the first time in decent lighting and for a moment any and all coherent thoughts fled his head because he looked like what would happen if the Marlboro Man had sex with a male romance novel cover model who subsequently gave birth to the Platonic ideal of ruggedly handsome, all shaggy brown hair and sunkissed dark skin and eyes only a shade or two off true black and a slow spreading smile surrounded by a beard that clearly had some attention paid to it in the name of manscaping because otherwise Romance Novel Cover Dad would have disowned him. Hanzo knew people who’d commit a number of serious criminal acts just to look at those cheekbones and that jawline, much less possess them so effortlessly and he was staring. He was completely staring. Hopefully he wasn’t drooling and staring, because that would be the actual and entire end of his existence, and all of his rescuer’s efforts would be for naught as he ran off into the desert to bury his shame. A voice that sounded suspiciously like his mother’s was screaming in the back of his mind about manners, manners, what was wrong with him and another, that sounded even more suspiciously like Genji, was offering tips and tricks on how to recover this situation and turn it into the world’s smoothest not-damsel-in-only-mild-to-moderate-distress pass but he’d have to open his mouth right now.

“Hello,” Hanzo croaked. “Er. I’m sorry. Thank you?”

“No apologies necessary,” The offspring of gorgeous manly perfection replied, flashing an easy, and apparently quite sincere, smile. “And it’s no trouble at all. How’re you feeling?” He flicked a glance at the mostly-empty pitcher. “I’ll get you more to drink, and somethin’ to eat, in just a second. But first I need to ask you a few questions, all right?”

Hanzo nodded wordlessly.

“What’s your name, darlin’?” Warm and gentle and kind, with the sort of charmingly encouraging smile that got people suffering from shock to come around much more slowly just so he’d keep providing it.

For an instant, Hanzo could not actually remember his own name. “Ah -- Hanzo. Hanzo Shimada.”

“Hanzo. That’s a pretty name. Unusual.” More of that gentle, encouraging smile. “Where do you come from, Hanzo?”

“Hanamura. Japan.” It took him far, far longer than it should have to remember that and he chose to blame some combination of lingering fatigue and skullcracking headache pain for that. “I’m attending college in Santa Fe right now and I’m planning to permanently immigrate at some point in the future.”

“Why Santa Fe?” He sounded genuinely curious.

“Because it’s as far as I could get from Hanamura while still residing on the same planet.” Hanzo replied, honestly. “And my school also gave me a pretty sweet scholarship.”

“Understandable.” The gently encouraging smile slid into a more sternly serious expression and Hanzo’s heart began fluttering around inside his chest in a way that suggested some sort of tragic cardiac event was about to unfold. “So am I safe in assuming that pretty tattoo of yours is not actually an indicator of the sort of gang involvement that’d require me to call the Santa Fe police and the Department of Homeland Security border enforcement office?”

Hanzo’s heart stopped fluttering around. In fact, his heart pretty much stopped, and it was all he could do to open and close his mouth wordlessly for what felt like forever but was probably only a small slice of forever. “No,” he finally managed to get out, as his rescuer’s eyebrows began inclining slightly. “It’s not.”

His rescuer regarded him steadily for a moment, as he fought with the urge to try and sink through the cushions of the couch and possibly through the floor and hopefully to the center of the Earth, where his lack of long sleeved concealment options would be hidden forever. Then he smiled again, quick and bright, and stood up, and for the first time Hanzo noticed he was also wearing a tannish tee-shirt with an arrow over his heart, only his wasn’t washed mostly away and contained a pine tree, a snow-covered mountain, a white buffalo, and the words National Park Service , also in white.

“You’re a ranger?” Hanzo asked -- which, of course, explained a lot, explained pretty much everything, up to and including living in the middle of nowhere and looking like the anthropomorphic personification of rugged masculinity and being willing to rescue randomly occurring strangers in the night. It was his job.

“Jesse McCree, ranger-in-residence of Cerrillos National Monument, technically legal population one, three if you count the old hippie couple that lives on the other side of town, seven if you count their dogs.” He offered his hand and his grip was as impossibly strong and perfect as the rest of him. “Let me get you a plate and then we can talk about how you came to be here and see what we can do about it.”

*

The plate turned out to be more of a platter, heavy glazed earthenware loaded down with scrambled eggs mixed with bits of loose sausage, queso blanco, and salsa that had never seen the inside of a jar, a side of hashbrowns, and freshly baked biscuits, honey and butter on the side. Hanzo inhaled it all almost without bothering to chew, to his host/rescuer’s completely evident amusement, and he was provided with seconds and a giant mug of coffee without comment but with a crinkles-at-the-corners-of-the-eyes inducing smile that made his heart start fluttering around in his chest again. This time, he took the obviously gods-sent opportunity to savor the perfect fluffy-yet-creamy texture of the eggs, the tang of the cheese mixed with the salsa, the expertly seasoned potatoes, and the beverage strong enough to chase the last, lingering traces of exhaustion out of his body.

“Thank you. That was delicious.” Hanzo said, scrubbing the last traces of cheese-salsa-eggs off his plate with the remaining half a biscuit still in the bread basket and consuming it in two bites.

“You’re entirely welcome. Nana McCree’s recipe cards haven’t let me down yet.” Ranger McCree started gathering the plates and, seeing an opportunity to begin repaying his hospitality, Hanzo assisted, despite the complaints of his legs and back, neither of which seemed particularly inclined to straighten out or work properly without an argument.

The kitchen continued the arched open beam ceiling/hardwood floor with geometric patterned area rugs theme as the sitting/living/dining room, the walls painted a cheerful dark yellow and the bit above the sink lined in windows, sills covered in planters growing what looked like fresh herbs. Looking out as he deposited his armload of dishes on the counter, he could see that there was, indeed, a well-maintained garden of succulents, cacti,  and tiny, wind-tortured junipers ringing the house in raised beds of whitewashed stone. Leaning there, he was also poignantly aware of how good the sunlight slanting through those windows felt on the abused and pathetically whining muscles of his back.

“Could I make a suggestion?” Ranger McCree set his armful down, as well, and sunlight brought the red highlights out in his otherwise brown hair and there was the staring and the hopefully not drooling again.

“Sure.” Hanzo straightened up and all the bones in his lumbar spine audibly cracked.

“Bathroom’s thataway,” The ranger hiked his thumb in the direction of a doorless arch on the far end of the kitchen. “First door on the left. Towels are in the closet right inside. A hot shower’ll sort you out better than anything short of a full body massage. I’m also going to suggest you keep those sweats for now because the NWS forecast called for today to be brisk which is a polite saying colder than a witch’s tit plus windy out here. And your clothes are still in the dryer.” He flashed the world’s most winning grin. “I’ll go get the truck ready and then we’ll go see what we can do about your car. Deal?”

“You don’t have to do that,” Hanzo objected, more reflexively than anything else, iron cradle training in Manners exerting itself despite the screeching objections of his aesthetic brain, which wanted to spend as much time as possible testing his ability to consciously halt the function of his salivary glands. “I’ve already imposed on you -- “

“Not really an imposition, t’be honest.” The ranger’s grin took on a hint of rue around the edges and that was somehow even more winning and this whole situation was absolutely unfair. “We don’t get very many visitors out this way -- hence the lone resident ranger -- and those that do are generally just passing through. Company’s been nice. Also: it’s a genuine pain in the ass to get a tow truck out here, so if it’s something we can finesse a bit until you get out to the main highway, I’ll be happy to do it. Otherwise, you might be stranded here again overnight.”

He did not, in fact, sound as though he considered that the worst possible outcome even as he offered to help avoid it. Hanzo’s heart did that little flip-flutter maneuver that he should really have checked out by a cardiologist when he got back to civilization. “Thank you. That would be wonderful -- I’ve never really been this far out of the Santa Fe Metro Axis before and, uhm, is there any way I can recover that statement without sounding like a complete idiot?”

“No need.” The grin relaxed into another eye-crinkling smile. “No shame in trying something new or asking for help when you need it, Mr. Shimada.”

Doomed. I am so doomed. This is the knell of doom, and it is sounding for me. “Okay, then, I’ll just,” Hanzo gestured vaguely in the direction of the bathroom, “get cleaned up.”

“Take your time. If I’m not back by the time you’re finished, I’ll be right across the street -- that’s the actual park office over there -- and I’ll leave the door unlocked.” The ranger made an abortive gesture that looked to all the world like he was going to tip a hat that wasn’t actually there and turned it halfway through into a kindly little shooing motion.

“Okay!” Hanzo did not squeak primarily because Shimadas did not, as an iron-clad rule of reality, squeak and he absolutely did not retreat down the hallway to the bathroom for exactly the same reason.

He was, however, completely in danger of hyperventilating as he planted his back against the bathroom door and sent a silent prayer to a thousand generations of his ancestors for their intercession in the cause of not making more of an idiot of himself than he already had. Genji would have known what to say -- Genji would have more than one smoothly charming thing to say -- and how the Hell had Genji managed to inherit all the tall and handsome and desirable and charismatic genes, anyway? It was deeply unfair. Hanzo breathed in peace and breathed out stress as he stripped out of his borrowed clothing, folding it neatly and piling it on the counter next to the sink, and just barely managed to restrain a howl of despair at the sight that greeted him in the mirror. His hair had, at some point during his interminable trek across the desert, been molested by noneuclidian entities from beyond reality and was now plastered to his skull in spikes and whorls held in place by hardened inhuman bodily secretions. Or possibly drool. Definitely drool. Every bit of skin that had been exposed to the wind was chapped red by the contact, so in addition to looking like the victim of an alien hair abduction, he could probably also pass for the local drunk after a three-day mescaline and tequila bender.

Shimadas also did not whimper, and so that sound did not emerge from his throat as he turned away from his reflection to fetch a towel from the closet. As he waited for the shower to warm, he comforted himself with the knowledge that at least he was in good hands -- the ranger didn’t strike him as the sort of freak who’d drive the Bride of the Spit Monster out into the desert for anything but reasons of pure humanitarian aid-rendering and thus his virtue was at least safe even if his dignity had already been summarily beaten to death before he was even awake enough to defend it. If he indulged in a moment of pure death-of-all-hope-related despair under the comforting warmth of the spray, there was at least no one there to witness it. And the water did do a perfectly excellent job of loosening up his muscles enough to tolerate a few gentle stretches in the generously-sized shower stall, which helped loosen things up even more. The toiletries weren’t brand name -- or, at least, not any brand he recognized, the sticker on the shampoo bottle was worn to illegibility -- but they smelled and felt wonderful on his hair and skin. The shampoo had a cedary, spicy note to it that made him want to breathe deeply just to get more of it into his head and the soap, a variegated block of color, made the chapped skin of his face tingle in a way that suggested healing immediately underway instead of the multitude of horrible alternatives, a definite mood-improver as far as he was concerned. All told, he felt a solid sixty percent more human after the shower which was, he supposed, probably at least as much the point of that suggestion as limbering up.

The skin on his face did look a good deal less red and horrific than it had before the wash and his hair was at least willing to obey the commands of a comb. The ranger had not, in fact, returned yet as he padded back down the hall in stocking feet and found his hiking boots and his bag next to the door and a spare hair tie in one of the side pockets along with a half-empty package of spearmint gum, a piece of which he used in lieu of borrowing his host’s toothbrush, which was a bridge way, way too far. His jacket hung on the peg rack next to the ranger’s heavy winter parka and a vividly red-and-gold garment that looked for all the world like a cloak. Hanzo ran his hands over it and found it a soft, warm wool, the scent that rose from it the same cedary-sagey-spicy as the shampoo, the geometric pattern around the edge similar to but subtly different from the border of the blanket folded over the back of the couch. He thought of the ranger’s golden-brown skin and dark eyes and wondered as he pulled on his boots and his jacket and stepped outside into the cool of the bright morning.

Cold with the wind, as promised, but the park office was directly across the street -- unpaved, rutted dirt and gravel, a startling contrast to both the lovely well-maintained house at his back and the modernish building at his front,  a low one-story confection of glass and adobe with a fully solar roof and a wraparound verandah that resembled the sort of thing you’d see on a saloon in a western. The door chimed gently as he entered and found himself standing in something part souvenir shop/part mini-museum, the walls lined in locked glass cases of artifacts (“Cerrillos and Its Place On the Turquoise Trail,” “El Camino Real de Tierra Adentro -- Historical Trade Routes of the Old Southwest,” “Native American Tribes of the Four Corners Region”) and the middle filled with racks of touristy tchotchkes in bins, t-shirts in dozens of sizes and colors, and, to his surprise, an extremely respectable collection of academic-grade books on local history, culture, and art, some of which he didn’t yet own, along with the usual ghost-towns-and-Native-American-folklore suspects. He was paging through one when the door chimed again and the ranger ducked inside, holding down his hat, his honest-to-gods cowboy hat , it was a fucking Stetson if it was anything, and Hanzo had to physically resist the urge to swoon.

“Wind is definitely picking up,” Ranger McDreamy greeted him, sounding a little breathless himself. “I’ve got the truck gassed and good to go, so whenever you’re ready Mr. Shimada…”

“Hanzo,” Hanzo heard himself saying in something approximating a natural, non-squeaky tone of voice -- not a suave tone, per se , but at least not a traumatically prepubescent peep, which was a definite improvement on recent events. “Please. Call me Hanzo, Ranger McCree.”

“Hanzo,” Ranger McDoMeRightHereandNow replied, and the way his tongue caressed the syllables turned Hanzo’s knees to a particularly bendy variety of gelatin and he leaned mock-casually against the bookcase in an effort to avoid melting to the floor in a babbling puddle of squee. “Then you’ve got to call me Jesse. I insist.”

“Jesse.” That was a little squeakier, but not much, so Hanzo was inclined to call it a win. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” The ranger opened the door and held it for him with a flourish.

The garage was tucked away well out of sight behind the park office and the row of older buildings alongside -- original town buildings he recognized from the artifact photos, older and more weathered and showing clear signs of preservation effort -- a squat cinderblock structure, one of its front doors already rolled open. The truck was equally squat and blocky with a fully enclosed cargo compartment in back and sat on real rubber wheels rather than antigrav pods, painted white with a vivid green stripe down the side bearing the words PARK RANGER with the NPS shield on both doors.

“Does this thing actually run on gas?” Hanzo asked as he climbed inside and got a look at the gauges on the dashboard. “How old is it?”

“Older’n both of us.” Ranger McImplishSmile replied and turned the key in the ignition, the engine coming to life with a behemoth roar of internal combustion. “I think it technically reached classic car status something like three years ago but keepin’ it runnin’ is sort of a necessity out here, so…” He popped it into gear and pulled out, following an unseen access road out to a junction with the not-really-a-highway Hanzo had followed into town. “How long were you walking, Hanzo?”

Telling him to use his given name was mistake -- a terrible, mortal error that he was going to be paying for, oh, yes, he could see that now. “Uh.” It took a moment to cudgel the information out of his brain. “At least a couple hours. Probably not as many as it felt like, because it felt like forever -- there was a little...not really snow, but it was pretty miserable there for a while.”

“Yeah, the desert this late in the autumn can be deceptive temperature-wise, particularly after dark. You weren’t badly prepared, though you probably could have done with more water. And some gloves. Spare pair in the dash box, by the way.” Ranger McWarmlyHelpful pointed out to him as they hit cracked and pitted asphalt for the first time. “This is old Highway 14. How’d you come to be down this way?”

Hanzo pulled the gloves on and frowned, considering. “I’m not entirely sure myself. I was following my GPS -- I spent most of the day in the desert between Shiprock the ghost town and Shiprock the geological feature, taking reference photos and video, doing some color studies -- “

“In the Omnic boneyard? That part of the desert?” Hanzo risked a glance and found the ranger’s face in an expression he was tempted to call Study of the Marlboro Man’s Gorgeous Son Attempting Studied Neutrality and Not Quite Making It.

“Yes.” Hanzo admitted. “I know it’s supposed to be off-limits but -- “

“But that hasn’t ever stopped anybody in the history of time.” Ranger McReassuringSmile gave him one, but there was more than a ghost of concern in his eyes. “You were sayin’?”

“I was following my GPS on the most direct route back to Santa Fe when the car started fritzing out -- or, rather, I asked it to give me the most direct route back, but it wasn’t following the roads I took in and it kept directing me off the main highways. I had to reboot it twice to get a good connection and by the time it started showing me the route that took me into Cerrillos, the car was sputtering like it hadn’t been sucking down sunlight all day.” They left the main road onto a well-detailed siding and, yes, that was a fucking impact crater. “And it’s a rental because of course it is.”

“You lost cellular connection at some point, right?” Ranger McCalmlySoothing asked, in precisely that tone. “And never got it back.”

“Yeah. I’m not exactly sure where -- it was spotty out near Shiprock but I still had some bars, at least.” Hanzo checked his phone and found it still connectionless. “I really hope Genji’s too blissed out to be worried about me right now.”

“Genji?” Ranger McCurious asked and Hanzo silently cursed himself because hearing that voice saying his brother’s name was the worst thing he’d done to himself for at least, oh, an hour.

“My brother.” Hanzo replied. “He’s studying here, too. Video game design -- the tech end. Spends most of his time hunched over a computer.” My handsome, charming, sociable, insanely flexible little brother , he thought, but did not say, in the desperate hope that none of those details would ooze out at any point. He is in no way sex incarnate with a side order of willing to try anything once, more than once if he enjoys it and nobody gets arrested. Why am I even thinking this why?

“Must be nice to have a familiar face around, this far from home.” The ranger upshifted and guided them back off the siding -- they were past the length of rucked-up-by-way-more-than-natural-forces road that had given him such fits in the dark.

“Yes -- yes, it is.” Hanzo admitted, after a moment, and it managed to not sound grudging. “Better than being alone the first couple years. I don’t think it’s much further -- it felt like so much longer last night.”

“I’ll bet. It’s so dark out here once the sun goes down, it feels like you’re walking alone in the middle of nothing, even if you’ve got a good flashlight. Not to cast any disparagement on your flashlight.” Ranger McGoodAtChangingtheSubject grinned at him. “And I’m saying this as somebody born and raised around here.”

“It was nice until the clouds rolled in. So many stars. Unfortunately, I think there was also at least one coyote and thaaaaaaaat kinda freaked me out a little. Or a lot. It was a lot,” Hanzo admitted, and that got a laugh -- a gentle, husky sound completely devoid of mockery. For a moment he forgot what he was about to say because that was the most perfect sound in the world and some part of his brain immediately began working out how to make him do it again. “They’re pretty harmless, aren’t they?”

“For the most part, yeah, they are. Probably at least as scared of you as you were of it.” His natural default expression seemed to be a smile -- the kindly, eyes-crinkling smile he’d worn at the breakfast table. “There it is.”

Hanzo’s POS rental rose out of the desert in front of them and he found himself hoping that, whatever the fuck was wrong with it, it was beyond the skills of a handy park ranger capable of keeping legit antique gas-drinking vehicles functional and that they’d have to call for a tow, at least, and this pleasant time wouldn’t have to end just yet. They pulled up alongside, Hanzo fishing out his keys and the ranger retrieving a tool case from the back of the truck. The toxic chemical cloud that greeted him the evening prior had dissipated in the intervening hours, leaving only the faintest piquant ghost of itself when they opened the hood, the ranger -- Jesse, his name is Jesse, you can totally think his name, really you can -- extracting a nameless tool of automotive diagnostics from his case and getting to work inside the engine compartment.

“Why do you drive a gas-drinker, anyway?” Hanzo asked, as he checked over the vehicle to make sure there wasn’t any outstanding damage he’d missed the day before, and that he hadn’t left anything of his own in it.

“Honestly?” The ranger looked up from the screen of the diagnostic pad he was tapping queries into. “Because relatively advanced modern vehicles like this one tend to have...issues...around here. Computer brains get all fried crispy. Electrical systems punk out. Antigrav up and quits without warning. GPS gets utterly lost. Such as is the case here.” He shut down the diagnostic tablet. “It’s been that way since just before the Crisis and quite a bit worse since, I’m afraid to say -- there’s not a formal exclusion zone, because that’d require the Federal government to actually admit out loud to something and I am sayin’ as a Federal employee that’s about as likely to happen as an honest politician, so we gave up on gettin’ official recognition of the situation some time ago.” He dropped the hood, the bang of it echoing away across the low, rolling, scrub-covered hummocks, the bits of desert flat to either side of the road. “Given how misdirected you got, it was a pretty good thing you broke down as close as you did to Cerrillos -- “

A low, ululating howl rose over the hills from somewhere unseen and, in the instant, it seemed even colder, despite the flat wind and the high, bright sun, a chill crawling up Hanzo’s spine and directly into the places of his hind-brain where the ancestral memory of predators that actually did eat human meat preferentially lived and wanted him to start running, right now.

“Hanzo, darlin’, get in the truck.” Ranger McCalmandCool suggested, politely, and Hanzo didn’t have to be told twice -- he was inside with the passenger door locked before his host had the tool case replaced in the back and the cargo compartment shut and locked.

A second voice answered the first, and a moment after that, a third. Ranger McTakingHisDamnSweetTime placed what looked like a portable telemetry beacon on the roof of the car, on the hood, and on the trunk, activating them as he went. Watching him do it, for the first time Hanzo realized he was armed -- really armed, with a gun holstered on each thigh, and he went about his business in a calm and thorough fashion that betrayed nothing but cool comfort and absolute confidence with that state. He laid a string of something -- beads? They were tiny whatever they were -- around the car and climbed back into the truck as the howling chorus rose to a genuine cacophony, started it, pulled a U-turn in the middle of the road, upshifted and dropped the accelerator in a fashion so completely unhurried that Hanzo was almost inclined to think that he was having a personal auditory hallucination. A flicker of movement in the rearview mirror caught his eye and he glanced up only to have his chin caught in a gentle, but firm, grip.

“Trust me, you don’t want to do that.” Jesse informed him, catching his eyes and holding them, as well, for a precious few seconds, and the deadly seriousness he saw written there chilled him almost more than the howls. “Mostly they ain’t very active during the day but something’s got ‘em worked up. Best to keep your eyes forward for now, okay?”

It took a moment to convince his throat to work and, once it did, it came out husky rather than a squeak. “‘They’?”

“Nana McCree would’a called ‘em naayéé -- works as well as anything, since we don’t really know what they are.” His mouth settled into something nowhere near a smile. “It’s how I knew you were walking with a coyote last night. Otherwise, you might not have made Cerrillos at all.”

A howl, louder and closer than all the others, rose so close behind them that even Jesse started, jerking the wheel involuntarily, and Hanzo’s gaze flicked reflexively back to the mirror. What he saw reflected there hit him in the hindbrain like a brick made of the pure and merciful inability of the human mind to consciously correlate all its contents: he experienced, briefly, the horrible, vertiginous awareness that he was looking at something that should not exist in a sane and benevolent universe, the realization that that understanding was significantly less shocking than it should have been, and then his mind, completely out of patience with him, pulled the curtains and the world spiralled away into soothing darkness. The last thing he heard, before everything faded away, was Jesse’s voice, and the last thing he felt was Jesse’s arm, wrapped around him and pulling him close.