#flcshbangin

[viperstruck-blog]

@flcshbangin / ♡ !!

❝ wouldn’t have been caught if the cops hadn’t already been nearby. ❞

the first cigarette after a brief stay in jail is certainly sweeter than any other smoke, and as elizabeth lights the end of hers, she takes a slow drag to savor the taste. she sets the pack down on the cement between herself and jesse where they sit atop the steps to her elegant home, the light near the door illuminating the cool night. she swats away a moth as she exhales smoke.

❝ i almost got outta there fast enough. still don’t regret it, though. it was such a rush -- ‘til the cops got me, at least. ❞ light laughter spills from lips wiped clean of color, bare as they only are in the comfort of her own home. jesse is one of the few people allowed to see her without her face on, and she’s not sure he even appreciates the honor. ❝ you oughta come with next time. we could rob someone blind, you and i. we could take whatever we want, and if the cops come for us, we can just get the hell outta dodge, y’know? ❞

it should be a joke. it’s a pipe dream, living the sort of lifestyle only seen in stories, but the smile she stares at her friend with is genuine and lacking in any humor. though she would likely never admit it, elizabeth is a dreamer, and running off on some sort of bonnie and clyde adventure is her recurring dream. she is young and hopeful, and the taste of a life of crime mccree has given her has only fueled that fire. ❝ we’d just have to make a pit stop to grab bob, of course. ❞

[excineris-a-blog]

   While he had been aware it wouldn’t be easy, he didn’t think it would be outright impossible to locate the gunslinger -- yet he’s been travelling for some time now, tracking clues and following a flimsy trail with no luck. In theory, he should have found him by now. He knows how Jesse’s mind works, and he’s definitely found traces of him left behind in various towns. It’s as if he knows someone is actively looking for him ... and maybe he even knows it’s Jack.

   They were no longer together at the end, but it was hardly a lack of love for each other that tore them apart. It was the stress and tension that drove them away from each other. Jack, toward the end of it all, was a rubber band stretched to its limit, always ready to snap. He was left mentally and emotionally incapable of caring for someone the way Jesse deserved to be cared for, and on top of that, the gunslinger had problems of his own stemming from Bla.ckwatch and the ever worsening liability that was Gabriel Re.yes. The man was volatile; Jesse couldn’t save him, but he tried. He and Jack both did. In the end, by the time of Jack’s supposed death, he and the love of his life were friends at best.

   He wants to find him, wants to show him that he’s alive, that he’s not well but managing. Unfortunately, it seems as though Jesse doesn’t want to be found. It’s fair enough, really. Jack thinks he deserves this -- to forever yearn for closure he won’t receive. After all, wasn’t he himself who figuratively shot their relationship in the head? He still blames himself, and now he’s certain he will never get to atone for his sins. Defeated, he drags himself back to his nearest safehouse, ready to drink and sleep off the looming bout of depression.

   While he finds no outward traces of an intruder, the hairs at the nape of his neck bristle beneath fabric. Something is off. Jack draws the pistol from his hip, having left his pulse rifle behind at the house. The hefty thing isn’t always good for stealth, and he hadn’t anticipated any gunfights, anyway. Readying the firearm, he quietly turns the knob and throws the door open, pistol aimed at a man who already has his own gun trained on Jack. It doesn’t matter, because once he realizes who is sitting in his chair, he lowers his weapon immediately. He wants to remove his visor, but his arms feel like jelly and he can’t seem to make any sort of move.

   ❝ ... Jesse. ❞ Lackluster, he knows, but his heart beats heavy in his chest and his gut churns. Part of him expects to hear a gunshot, then nothing more. Is Jesse going to kill him? He deserves it. ❝ I ... was looking for you. ❞

( @flcshbangin / plotted ! )

[lazrvs-a]

flcshbangin replied to your post: Drapes self dramatically on the floor. You know....

Don’t mock me big man

     ❛ And here I was, about to help you. If you don’t want my help, that’s fine. I’ll leave if I’m not wanted. ❜ He stands himself up to leave, a grin seated on his face. Oh, he knows what he’s doing.

[visorshot-a]

i still love you. but please don't wear that always.

“Babe. Honey. Darling. Please look at yourself before you step to me about fashion.”

[engclicht]

ringing spurs echo off tiled floor, singing its western song, a melody so very loved by overwatch’s angel. smile curls her lips, her head lifting, azure gaze pulling from messily scribbled notes to rest upon the man who leaned against her doorway.  ❝    jesse.    ❞ his name falling from her lips in a whisper, smile blossoming into a grin. 

❝    i was beginning to worry i have lost your care.    ❞  a soft chuckle, a warm summer melody.  ❝    you know very well the importance of your presence is for my work.    ❞  though jesse fails in his skill of medicine, he does, however, offer the surgeon an ESCAPE from her troubled mind and aching fingers. there was simply something about his smile that eased her. a view she couldn’t live without...

—@flcshbangin  ♥’d

[thmaniac-blog]

I'm sorry but every time I see you talking about johnny doing weird stuff I have the shining door scene in front of my inner eye

i can’t unseen what i’ve just seen, but it’s okay because it’s beautiful

[totenkoenig-blog]

McCree: I bought a salami

Reyes: you mean a whole one?

McCree: Yup.

McCree: I like a good, big, piece of meat in my mouth

Reyes: ...

[mokutckideactivated]

i can hear your pulse racing from here sitting next to this gun beats your heart in your mouth

ind. jesse mccree & shimada hanzo        as portrayed by becks & berfie. original art: dilfosaur.

[aureasadrisit]

The reassuring touch thing from Eddie

touch ( accepting ) | @flcshbangin @servethefuckingbeam​

His hand over her hand on the side of her door is warm, and she keeps from flinching and immediately moving away. It was not like she was not used to it, to the touching that is. But because she was far from sober and so was he, different drugs same ending basically. Touching in general, especially when she just felt like crawling under her bed ( even if she would never do that, crawling under a hostel bed was basically asking for a STD or something worse, maybe even a corpse ), was hard and it’s not even because she thought Eddie was going to do her any harm. Eddie was a sweetheart and she would sooner hurt someone than he. Instead, she remained frozen with a small smile, she tried to return the gesture but she felt like it fell flat.

   “I’ll be fine, Eddie.” the words are slurred as she blows a kiss at him between the small space between the door and the frame, closing it slowly. She didn’t even remember making her way to bed.

[dat0sarchive-blog]

KISSES KISSES KISSES KISSES KISSES that's how it works right

mwah mwah | accepting

( uno )

the first time she acquaints herself with jesse mccree’s mouth in a fashion that’s far from polite or professional… she barely remembers it.

which is unfortunate, because then she would have more than the hazy memory of too many shots of tequila, or him actually bothering to tell her that maybe she’d had a few too many. or the way she waved him off with an uncharacteristic giggle and swayed in her chair, nearly toppling over and taking a glass with her.

instead, she just remembers the warm buzz in her system, for once not a symptom of overheated electronics in the base of her skull. how it knocked her off balance when she gestured just a bit too big while telling a story she can’t remember ( and hopes wasn’t too revealing ), and sent her fumbling in her seat. and how he, in all his chivalrous politeness, caught her before she could face plant rather gracelessly into the bar.

had he always been so… solid?

before she thinks too much about it ( if she can even be said to have the capacity for it in her state ), her fingers move from his arms to his face, and she’s vaguely aware she’s probably leaving marks on his skin, but she can’t be bothered with caring. who’s going to ask for the real details of how he got them anyway?

the plastic claws on her gloves slide across his lips and she starts just a bit when he shifts slightly and kisses the back of them. with wide eyes, she stares at him for a moment, and she wonders if he feels the same warm current of conflicting desires that swirls in her stomach.

it feels like the moment lasts forever before she leans in just the smallest amount and presses her purple-painted lips to his. he tastes like the alcohol they’ve drank, and the cigarettes he smokes, and something else she doesn’t have the presence of mind to identify, and for a second she presses in closer, trying to get more of it, to imprint it on her senses and-

then she pulls back, like a shock just ran up the implants in her spine, and she mutters a string of apologies in english and spanish alike, asks for another drink to keep herself distracted from whatever’s on his face.

to distract her from the thought she may have made a huge mistake.

( dos )

she can’t say for sure who instigated this, who’s idea it was to find any sort of relief in each other rather than alone that night. all she knows is she didn’t say no, and neither did he.

and he still doesn’t object when her fingers, pointed ends still strapped to her hands in her haste, trace a path up his neck and into his hair, a silent request for him to be closer, if it’s even possible. he’s polite but not spineless, and she thinks that if he was really so repulsed by her, this would’ve stopped as soon as it started. but he doesn’t say no when she leans in and seals herself against him, as if she’s trying to erase the boundaries between where she begins and he ends.

it doesn’t end up being the last time, and she can’t help wondering if it means the same things to him as it does to her. if he’s as affected by the way she drops her walls and lets him see everything as she is when he does the same. the way she started to feel like the shy girl she never knew she could be when he looked at her, at some point she’s forgotten about. if they were celestial bodies, he’d be the sun that her cold rock planet revolved around.

but there’s no way they think the same. no way someone so genuinely good for all the right reasons like him would want a patchwork doll of a person like her. no way in heaven or hell or purgatory that when he grips her tighter, pulls her closer, it’s for the same reason she loses her breath at the look in his eyes.

he tastes like everything she didn’t know she needed, an antidote to the poison in her veins.

but there’s no way he’d let her have more than just this taste.

( tres )

“you know that somewhere out there there’s a huge fight going on, right?”

she utters the words into the dark shadows that encase them, around the gasp of breath she barely manages as his hands grip her shoulders ( careful as ever to avoid the network of metal and wires mere centimeters away ) and his lips mark her jawline. she should be more concerned about how they’re waging a different kind of war than the one expected of them, about the way animosity went long forgotten when they found each other at the end of their sights mere moments ago.

sombra has never been good at doing the things she’s “supposed to.”

there’s a million thoughts in her head, buzzing like bees the way her skin is doing as his touch moves across it. most of them are reprimands about how they shouldn’t be doing this, but she’s always loved to be spiteful, to do things just because people tell her she can’t. and maybe that’s part of the reason she’s here in the shadows with jesse mccree rather than outside fighting with her supposed team, but she doesn’t care.

until the moment is utterly ruined by the faint hiss of her comm link, and reaper’s rasp coming over the line asking for her location. she doesn’t mean to be so rough shoving him away to fix her clothes, but if she doesn’t respond fast, he’ll come looking and that is the last thing she wants.

so she plants a quick kiss on his cheek, whispers a promise of later, and vanishes from his sight.

( quatro )

she almost bites his lip off when he says the three words that change everything about their dynamic forever.

it’s beautiful, coming from his mouth in that low tone he uses only when they’re alone. the sort of rare sight you can’t look away from when you’re treated to its full glory. for a few moments she stares at him in shock, and it’s for a lot of reasons.

mostly, it’s that she doesn’t believe him. no one has ever said it to her, not with the full intent and meaning it carries when he does. no one has ever said it to anyone any meant it, in her line of work. and in their careers, who can ever truly believe someone when they say something like that? she can’t. there’s too much risk, too many chances that he’ll betray her. she just can’t.

besides, he’s too good for her. so many miles out of her league, it’s inconceivable that they’re even here now. she’s a mess of darkness and wires and misinformation, and she doesn’t deserve him. god, how she doesn’t. angels don’t say those words to demons after they fall from grace, so why would she be any different?

she realizes she’s been silent for too long, can see it on his face. so she leans forward, slow, and presses her lips to his more gently than she can have the mind to ever remember doing. he doesn’t object and she feels the nauseating sting of guilt as she uses the kiss to guide them back to more familiar waters of hands all over and heated air.

she hopes he doesn’t notice how she doesn’t say it back.

( cinco )

she hasn’t seen him for a few weeks and it’s eating at her.

it’s not unusual, for their paths to diverge for lengths of time. but this feels different. it’s intentional, or at least she thinks so, and if that’s true, then she certainly knows the reason why. if only she hadn’t been so stupid, if only she had said something, if only she hadn’t been so damn afraid.

she stares into her drink and thinks about all the ways that could have gone differently. but she knows they wouldn’t happen. she’s broken beyond repair, and she shouldn’t be surprised that all her jagged edges and displaced parts have hurt someone else again.

there’s a sound, so faint she almost misses it, but it’s unmistakable. it’s him. she tries not to look so eager when her head shoots up, and her eyes lock on his. she tries not to be hurt when he sits as far from her as possible, says nothing. but it just irritates her, that he can sit there like that and not know how much he’s affecting her, that all of this is happening over some kind of ridiculous misunderstanding.

so she pushes her drink away from her and storms across the bar to him. shoves his drink out of his hand and makes him look at her.

“come with me.”

she doesn’t know if it’s because he’s willing or because he knows better than to fight her, but he doesn’t make any moves to stop her when she grabs him and drags him away. when they’re tucked safely in the shadows, she stops, lets him go and stands quietly in front of him. god, this is harder than she thought, to say words she never imagined she’d utter to anyone. they’re sticking to her throat and she can tell he’s getting more fed up by the minute with her antics.

it’s when he makes a move to go that she puts her hands on his shoulders, digs in and holds on tight as she tries to gather her nerve. it’s now or never.

she says the words to his shoes.

he says something like excuse me, and now she’s just annoyed that he’s making her repeat herself. so with her face flaming and her fists clenched, she looks him in the eye and says it again, with feeling. he’s smiling stupidly at her and that just makes her more embarrassed. but she doesn’t get to feel it long before he’s crushing her to him and his mouth is on hers.

and for once, she lets go of all her silly pretenses and holds on for dear life. a silent promise that she will never, ever let him go. lets him kiss her until her knees are weak and her head is spinning, and only then does he pull away.

say it again. she hates that he can make her cave so easy, but she’s always been a little masochistic.

“i love you.”

[honordriven]

Slides up next to him to rub circles into his shoulder, easing over some of the knots in there.

     Had the feeling not have been so pleasant and Hanzo might have protested.

  Hanzo is tense. Way too tense than needs be and the fact that they’re literally alone, on a rather empty part of the base helps the fact that the archer rather hums along the cowboy’s movement, shoulders relaxing the tiniest bit at the rubs. “Hmm.” Had anyone else been present and he would have turned the sharpshooter away, but right now? 

        He could definitely use this.

[silver-haired-76-blog]

[ @flcshbangin continued from X ]

“Last time I thought whatever you up too didn’t involve so much collateral damage.” He crosses his arms, leaning on the wall, “Unless you want to tell me there is somehow more collateral damage involved then yeah, I do want to know about that.”

[excineris-a-blog]

   There is a time and a place for romance. It requires favorable conditions to thrive, and Ov.erwatch is not unlike a downpour over a bonfire or unrelenting sunshine draining the life from a young plant. The Commander’s schedule is hectic and exhausting, leaving little time for relaxation, let alone for maintaining friendships or -- god forbid -- a romantic relationship. He knows that; still, he has developed a close friendship with a Blackwatch agent of all people, a man with missions of his own, a clashing schedule.

   What’s worse is how he’s allowed it to grow into something else. Simple negligence, perhaps, but he has to wonder if it’s not due in part to his own loneliness that he’s ignored all the signs. He’s a smart man, but it was all too easy to tuck his reservations of the entire thing into the deeper corners of his mind. Now, though, as things continue to escalate toward romance, he can’t ignore it. Not when his feelings are so strong.

   Long strides carry him quickly to the dropship bay, where a Blackwatch ship will be landing any moment. He arrives in time to greet Gabriel with a pat on the shoulder and a quick word as the group steps off the ship, then blue eyes focus on Jesse. ❝ I’m glad to hear the mission went well, Mccree. ❞ He manages a smile despite the weight of the stress upon his shoulders. It’s always a little easier around the gunslinger. ❝ I’d like to talk to you when you get a chance. ❞

plotted with @flcshbangin

[lazrvs-a]

Drapes self dramatically on the floor. You know. Nice way of saying he kinda fell.

     His eyes glance down first before he bends down himself, reaching out to poke at him, raising an eyebrow.

    ❛ Need a hand there? ❜

[hyacinthsgirl]

flcshbangin replied to your post: i found my very old Claude Faustus blog and i’m...

Omg the blog I met you on

and here you can witness the beginning of our friendship

[engclicht]

❝  if you’re here for ASSISTANCE -- i suggest you look elsewhere. ❞ she growls, gaze lifting from her desk -- the very surface hidden by the contents of her work. broken pieces and shredded metal -- even a vial of her very special formula -- one his eye lingered upon. one she knew he wanted. what everyone wanted. ❝ i’m BUSY. and no -- you can’t it. i need it. now LEAVE before i do something you might regret later. ❞

@flcshbangin  ♥’d for talon!mercy