#oh and that lil guy is supposed to be genji

[snail-clock]

[were-dragon]

Life’s a Game

Have you ever thought about how it would look if the Overwatch character learned about their lives being nothing more than a video game and their stories nothing more than entertainment? Well, now you have a chance to see my take on it. When the mission goes to hell in a handbasket, Symmetra's impromptu improvement to her teleporter makes their escape somewhat more effective than expected. Now the team needs to get through the fifth anniversary of Overwatch game at Blizzcon and figure out what the hell happened to them in the first place. --- Umm, this grew up to be quite the behemoth. I swore to myself all of these will be only short stories but here we are. Anyway, I had to cut this into two chapters. Chapter one for the day 2 PeapodMcHanzoWeek prompt: AU. And chapter two will be day 3 prompt: Secret Admirer. (So I'll be writing it and posting it tomorrow. Which is today. Oh god I need to go to bed it's like 7 am.)

Rating: T

Word count: 6+ k

Tags: alternative title: from their universe to ours and back again, Getting Together, Feels, Dimension Travel, Crack Treated Seriously, this was supposed to be a fun trip, oh boy was I wrong

Pairings: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada

AO3: Life’s a Game

“We cannot stay here! Our position is compromised, we are outnumbered, and the possibility of civilian casualties is too high!” Hanzo yelled over the noise of gunfire, as his comm was no longer functioning; the high-grade tech was still susceptible to damage when half a ton of debris falls onto it, who would have thought.

“I have to agree with the archer,” McCree’s voice reached him somewhere from his left. “We just lost our only way in.” The sound of an explosion interrupted him. Hanzo’s ears rang with it and it took everything in him not to cover them. “We also just lost our way out.”

A curse came from somewhere above Hanzo where Genji was covering the remaining high ground.

“All agents, to me!” Symmetra’s voice called out. It would be a risky move under any other circumstances but then again, this whole operation was a risky move. It was supposed to be a stealth mission that would grant their heavy hitters a path into the former Blackwatch now Talon compound. The team composition made them strong assault force but also an easily targeted one. They had no shields to protect them and with only Mercy as their support, everyone had to be careful not to get hurt. In theory, it should have been perfectly possible, especially with McCree on their side, who was closely familiar with the compound as a former Blackwatch agent. From what Hanzo understood, this place was the original Blackwatch headquarters before they were moved to Switzerland. It was also before Genji joined them, as his brother knew of it only in passing, lacking the critical knowledge that made McCree leader of this mission.

“We have incoming, loves, better hurry it up. Whatever it is you have planned.” Tracer blinked past him and in the direction where Symmetra and Mercy were stationed.

“Alright, ya heard her Shimadas, move it,” McCree hollered, two shots from Peacekeeper closely following. “I’ll cover for ya.”

Genji landed behind Hanzo, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Come, brother. You do not wish to anger our commanding officer.” His voice rang with suppressed laughter as if they weren’t retreating from a butchered mission. Hanzo just grunted in lieu of a reply and did as he was told. Three more shots rang as they made their way to where Symmetra was hastily working on something Hanzo could not discern. He did not bother anyway, instead, he put his bow up and covered McCree who appeared in the open just a few seconds later.

Hanzo took down two bold Talon agents who thought to get a drop on McCree from above; arrows piercing their uncovered throats. What foolishly designed armors.

“Thanks, darlin’.” McCree winked at him as he joined them in the cover. The usually vibrant red of his serape was coated in dust, indicating he was way too close for comfort to the building when it collapsed.

Hanzo swept his gaze over him for any sign of injury but it looked like McCree’s devil’s luck was as strong as ever.

“What now?” he asked, unbalanced by the now almost familiar wash of worry for the cowboy.

McCree turned from him to their resident architech. “Ya got something for us, Symmetra?”

It was Mercy who replied, pausing in checking Genji over. “Satya found something she thinks can boost her teleporter to get us far enough.”

“How far?”

“If my calculations are correct,” and they are, went unspoken, “Los Angeles.”

Trace whistled. “That’s quite the distance from here. You sure?”

“I do not know all the properties of this element but its power enhancement is astonishing,” Symmetra said, while her hands never paused in their work. The silence that rang in the wake of her words made her huff in annoyance. “Yes, I am sure.”

“Well, good enough for me. Anytime yer ready, Sym.” She spared a fraction of a second to glare at him for the nickname and he grinned. Hanzo rolled his eyes.

“Do not aggravate our only hope of safe escape, McCree.”

McCree mimed a betrayal at his words, his hand pressing to his chest.

“Words hurt, Shimada.”

Hanzo was not impressed. “Not as much as arrows do.”

“Okay!” Mercy jumped in before the banter could escalate into a full-fledged ribbing battle. “You two were closest to the collapse, let me look at you before she finishes.” But before she could do just that, Symmetra made a satisfied noise and with several fluid gestures and a shimmer of blue light, a teleporter materialized in front of them. The first thing Hanzo noticed was its color. The usual icy blue was gone, replaced by a cold lilac shade that made him turn a questioning gaze to Symmetra.

“The color is of no consequence, it is the same shade of the element. Now hurry, I do not know how long it will hold.”

That did not give much confidence to Hanzo but they were out of time now. Bullets chipped at the rubble they were hiding behind.

“Alright, one after the other, go,” McCree ordered and gestured to Genji and Mercy who were closest to it. The ninja nodded and guided Mercy through before she could protest by appealing to their sensibilities and the lack of proper protocol. Hanzo cringed at the thought of using something they only knew little about but as he had no other solution he kept silent. Symmetra went through just as the first Talon agent appeared from behind the rubble. He fell to an arrow in the neck like his compatriots. The two behind him to McCree’s bullets. They backed towards the teleport. Only they and Tracer were left now.

“Come on, guys,” she prompted and jumped through.

“Go,” Hanzo prompted, looking for the next agent foolish enough to come for them. McCree chuckled.

“After you, darlin’.”

Hanzo scowled, not looking away.

“McCree.”

Something pulled at the back of his kyudo-gi with enough force to make him stumble backward.

“I must insist, archer.” McCree stepped in front of him, covering him and blocking his view. “Get goin’!”

Hanzo growled but arguing with the pig-headed cowboy would be stupid right now and so he did as he was told and stepped through the teleport. A sound of a shot followed him. It did not come from Peacekeeper.

He did not manage to hide his panic fast enough; from the faces that looked at him as he emerged from the teleporter, it was more than clear.

“Brother-” Genji took a step towards him, hand raising but Hanzo turned on his heal to face the device, the purple tinned oval of energy rippling almost imperceptibly. For a length of a single breath there was nothing and then Jesse McCree leaped out of it and straight into Hanzo, making them both stumble. It was Genji who made sure they did not end up on a heap on the ground.

The device closed and Symetra dropped her hand with a satisfied hum.

“All okay?” McCree asked but before anyone could answer, Hanzo pushed him from him with all the anger he managed to build in the last minute and a half. It was an impressive amount if he said so himself.

“That was stupid! Do not repeat that ever again!” He hissed in agitation like the dragons that crawled under his skin.

McCree raised his hands, Peacekeeper still dangling on his finger.

“Calm down there, sweetheart. Nothing bad happened.”

“It could have!”

“Aww, were you worried about lil old me?” The cowboy had the gal to grin at him. Hanzo clenched his fists.

“You are a fool, Jesse McCree.” He hissed instead and turned his back to the cowboy. It did not help, as now he could see Tracer smirking at them, Mercy’s exasperated expression and the curious tilt of his brothers helmeted head. He could feel the warmth crawling up the back of his neck and that aggravated him even more. “Did we arrived where we supposed to?” He asked in an attempt to divert everyone’s attention. Luckily they were professional or kind enough to allow it.

Mercy frowned, tapping at her comm. “I think mine is damaged as well, I get only static and cannot confirm our position.” The remaining agents still with their comms tried as well with similar results. That was annoying.

“Guess, it’s a good old legwork for us.” They all looked at McCree in disbelief. Looking like they were now? They would be a center of attention immediately, he most of all with his bounty. “If this is LA, it’s bound to be written in at least twelve places in this block alone,” he rolled his eyes at them.

They managed to walk exactly two streets before they were recognized.

“Hey, it’s Mercy! Wow!” Someone across the street hollered. “Looking amazing!” A group of what looked like young adults in capes gestured thumbs up before they continued on their way, completely oblivious to the shocked agents they were leaving behind.

“I-” Mercy started and then did not finish, clearly at loss for words.

McCree was first to break the shocked silence. “Well, they ain’t wrong?”

Mercy swatted at him and then quickly jumped to the side when a giant purple cat-person walked past, giving her a finger salute in thanks.

“Umm.” Was all McCree had to say now.

Hanzo looked around and noticed there were many people around them and quite a lot of them walking in the same direction. And some of them seemed to be clad in what could only be described as costumes.

“Genji,” he turned to his brother. “Do you think this could be-”

“A convention.” His brother’s voice sounded several tiers more excited than it should be. But the confirmation was more important right now. They might be in luck.

“Convention?” McCree asked. “Like one of those things Hana gets invitations to?”

“Yeah!” Tracer whooped. “Those are fun I hear.”

“We are on a mission!” Symmetra hissed at her, appalled. To the surprise of everyone except Genji, Hanzo raised his hand to stop her.

“This is good. If I’m not mistaken there could be quite the number of people in costumes of all sorts. We could blend into the crowd more easily.”

A pause. “...you want to go to a convention?” McCree asked, confused plainly written in his face.

Hanzo rolled his eyes, sending a silent prayer to the kami. “No. I wish to use the crown to move easily without rousing suspicion until we find somewhere we could contact Winston.”

“Oh.” Did McCree sound disappointed?

“And you believe that will work? We could be still recognized.”

That was a valid point but Hanzo recalled one particularly awkward moment when Genji burst into his room at Watchpoint to push a tablet into Hanzo’s face while excitedly yelling something about fans.

“I know about at least two instances that someone deemed it wise to dress up as my brother on such conventions, as he so kindly shared with me.” He gave the preening Genji a look and it took everything in him not to roll his eyes again. He would end up with a headache soon if he were to indulge every single time.

“Really? Huh,” McCree hummed, tapping his lower lip with a gloved finger. Hanzo was most certainly not staring.

“What, Jesse? Thinking if someone ever dressed like you?” Traces snickered and McCree tried to make a mocking grimace but failed, his cheeks tinged pink.

“‘S a valid concern. They could be hurt!” He protested but no one really believed it was just that.

Instead, they agreed to give it a try, even bewildered Symmetra and Mercy, simply for the lack of a better plan.

The crowd accepted them easily enough and they traveled naturally in the direction most headed in. It did not take long for a huge convention center to block their view. At the top was a banner with big blocky ‘Blizzcon’ on it. It did not sound familiar to Hanzo and from the lack of excitement neither it did to Genji.

The only problem was when they tried to separate themselves from the crowd but in the end, they managed. Making their way around and to the back of the building. With this many people around there was bound to be something they could use to contact the Watchpoint.

“Well, that went better than exp-”

“Oh, finally!” A loud voice interrupted McCree mid-sentence. It was a short thin woman, with light hair and a dark headset on, scowling fiercely at them.

“What?” Mercy asked, caught off guard by being accosted so suddenly by a stranger.

“You are late! You should have been getting ready for the stage by now. Now, please if you would follow me.” She gestured for them to head inside the center.

“Um, miss, I think there’d been a mistake.”

She glared. “Yes, I can see that. We ordered Widowmaker, not Symmetra; but we are out of time now so please move inside, we can discuss it later.”

With that, she gestured to the security guarding the back entrance. Hanzo was about to protest but McCree hissed “do it” just loud enough for them to hear and despite his trepidation, Hanzo decided to listen. The woman led the way and McCree bent to whisper. “There is no way we could get in otherwise and there is a chance we can get hands on some phone or tablet to contact Winston.”

“They will discover us and then we will get to trouble,” hissed Mercy. “And what was that about Widowmaker. Why did these people expect us in the first place?”

“No idea. But how better figure it out than play along for the time being?”

“This could be a trap.” Genji pointed out but McCree just shrugged.

“Then it’s the weirdest trap I’ve ever seen. They had no idea we would even be here. By all accounts, we were two states over twenty minutes ago. I think they were expecting some of them costumed folks like we met on our way here.”

That… did make some little sense, Hanzo supposed. Still, he did not like it.

They were led down a narrow hallway into what looked like impromptu backstage.

“Okay,” the woman whirled around gesturing at them. “I've let them know about the blunder so they won't be calling you out one by one. Instead, you will go all together and stay at the back of the stage. Just don't get into the way of the presenter, he’s in a bad mood today. The presentation yesterday didn’t go as well as expected and there is pressure from up high. So just stay back, stay in character, occasionally wave or something. I'll tell you more after the screening.”

Her headset flickered and her hand flew up to it.

“Yeah, we good here. Two minutes. Copy. I’ll send them up.”

Hanzo glared and McCree who looked mildly regretful now. But there was little they could do without raising an alarm.

They followed the direction and walked out on the stage, stiff and uncomfortable. Even Tracer looked like she wished to be anywhere but there.

The noise was deafening. He couldn’t quite see over the lights pointed at them but still, he was able to take it the sea of people, yelling and cheering. Flashes of cameras making him scrunch up his nose in displeasure. Hanzo would make McCree pay for this stupid idea. The cowboy next to him stopped and turned to the crowd, hesitating then tipping his hat. Hanzo flinched at the loudness of the response. There were now people screaming McCree’s name with utter abandon. He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to not appear as uncomfortable as he was feeling.

The response, to his shock, was instantaneous. He couldn’t help but gape at his name being screamed now as well. And so were the names of the others.

The utter storm that unleashed when Genji, being the last one appearing, took his place in the lineup was utterly ridiculous. Hanzo could distinctly hear a marriage proposal being yelled from the throng of people. And of course, his brother took to the stage best of them all, shooting the crowd a cheeky salute.

After them, a dark-haired man wearing thick-framed glasses came up, clearly enjoying his welcome much more than they did. Waving and greeting the people with smiles and jokes.

Hanzo did not really listen, scanning instead all the angles where possible attackers could hide. He hoped McCree was right about this not being a trap but he wouldn’t take any chances.

“...your votes, we have prepared Top 5 cinematic trailers for you to enjoy tonight. It is only thanks to you we can now celebrate the five-year anniversary of Overwatch! Truly, our success is your doing, so please enjoy!”

With that, the light cut off and the many screens around the arena lit up with a red number 5 and… an animated movie?

Hanzo was confused. The first image was of a jukebox followed by shots of a dinner. It looked familiar to him and it was the muffled curse from his right that confirmed it.

“What the hell,” McCree breathed as the camera panned from different details of the establishment to details of what could only be McCree himself.

They watched as the man on the screens walked out and confronted who they knew to be the current leader of the Deadlock, Ashe.

“How?” McCree hissed next to him. “How can they know this?”

Hanzo couldn’t help at the over the top western vibe the unbelievable movie was emanating. It made McCree into a caricature of what he was, which was in all honesty also a caricature in many ways. The animation style was not helping. It was somewhat bizarre. But next to him the cowboy was not so amused.

“This actually happened?” Hanzo asked through the corner of his mouth.

McCree growled, the sound drowned by the shootout on the screens. “Yeah. Yeah, it happened.”

Hanzo considered that, watching as McCree disposed of the whole group with what could only be called an excellent shooting. And so he said so. The cowboy huffed, still clearly put out by seeing his life on the screen like this.

“Thanks.” He said finally in a gruff tone Hanzo was unused to.

On the screen, Echo opened her eyes and next to Hanzo Mercy made a chocked up sound.

Then she reached over Hanzo and put a hand on McCree’s arm. “It was you.”

The cowboy huffed again but didn’t dislodge himself.

“‘S not a big deal.”

“Not a big- Jesse!”

Hanzo decided to intervene. “Not here,” he hissed at their resident doctor and she acquiesced after a split second of hesitation pulled back.

They watched the exchange on the screen and McCree riding away on the stolen hoverbike, letting Echo go back to the Overwatch alone. Hanzo was not part of the organization back then but he knew McCree re-joined shortly before Hanzo arrived. It brought quite a lot of questions he knew McCree would hate to be asked to his mind. Quickly the amusement the short movie prompted in him dissipated and guilt seeped in. All of a sudden it felt like a violation. And from McCree’s stiff posture, it was.

A yellowish number four flashed on the screens, followed by a forest scene, with a yellow bird flitting around.

It took him an embarrassingly long to realize he knew this exact bird. Ganymede.

They all watched Bastions awakening with rapture. After the violence of McCree’s past, it felt wondrously peaceful. It was all the more shocking then when Hanzo watched what could only be described as a flashback occur. He could hear his brother's silent curse and Tracer’s gasp at the sudden devastation and fear in the omnics posture as he looked around his destroyed surroundings.

Yet again, the feeling of violation bubbled in Hanzo’s throat.

This should not be happening. No one should know this. And if they did, it should not be entertainment. What was this? Were they forced forward in time? Did the augmented teleporter interact in some way with Tracer’s device? Something like this happened after the fall of the old Overwatch; holovids of the past deeds and life stories were often made and screened on occasion. But these were no holovids.

In fact, since when they started using these thick screens again?

“Never realized how damn important the bird was,” McCree murmured beside him, and Hanzo had to agree. They all accepted and welcomed the strange pair when Torbjorn brought them in. But no one thought much of the bird. Why would they?

A number three flashed, this time in white.

The dread Hanzo felt grew as they went through moments of Winston protecting all agents’ data from a Talon attack and instigating the recall. And then as Widowmaker appeared. To have an insight into Talon’s best sniper felt nearly as wrong as seeing Winston’s childhood memories.

He heard Tracer whimper, a sound he did not believe she could make with her ever-optimistic attitude. He peeked around Mercy and Symmetra to see her clutching at Genji’s arm.

At the screens above them, Tekhartha Mondatta fell and the lights on his forehead went out with a flicker.

“This is fucked up,” McCree growled. Hanzo could feel the tension radiating from the gunslinger.

As the face of Widomaker disappeared in the dark Hanzo did not have to look, he knew Genji was hugging Tracer now, an unintelligible stream of soothing words reminding Hanzo of a static more than a human voice. Someone in the audience cooed.

It took all the restraint he possessed to stay rooted in the spot. McCree next to him sneered, audibly gritting his teeth even over the dying music from the speakers.

Hanzo almost did not look in time to see the last number glow in a mix of electric green and blue. The dread peaking in a crescendo of panic. The lilting music and the art style just solidifying the terror clogging his lungs.

His mind blanked at the voice of his father spreading through the arena.

Genji’s gasp was almost as loud as the screaming whiteness in Hanzo’s head.

Please.

Please, not this. They couldn’t have made entertainment from the worst mistake of his life. That would be too twisted.

Hanzo wasn’t sure from where he gathered the strength to look up. But seeing himself not that much younger than he’s now brought a relief that made his knees buckle.

He watched himself made his way into the courtyard of the Shimada castle, quickly and efficiently disposing of the guards stationed at the gate.

“Clean work,” McCree murmured next to him but Hanzo could not react, instead he listened to his father’s retelling of the family legend. The dragons depicted in the dojo reenacting the story of his life. Their lives.

For only now he saw the silhouette of his brother against the night sky, following him into the castle. How foolish of him, not paying attention. If that had been anyone else, he would be long dead.

As they all focused on the Hanzo in front of the bloodied tapestry, he could feel something moving past his back, smelled a whiff of stale smoke from the brand of cigar McCree preferred, the warmth always radiating from the man; and he knew there was a hand hovering just a few centimeters from his back. He did not know what he would do if McCree finished the gesture.

He could not- With this many people-

The feeling disappeared and McCree next to him sighed. Hanzo let out a silent breath.

Genji on the screen confronted him and Hanzo winced. He did not know who the cyborg was at the time but watching them fight now made his gut twist in revulsion.

He heard Mercy’s exclamation “Mein Gott!” as Genji deflected the dragons and they surrounded Hanzo. He could recall the searing pain as they kept attacking in their disorientation, only their bond to him preventing them from making any permanent or serious harm. But it left him dazed and weak. And so utterly confused.

To watch their conversation now, Hanzo could not remember it going that way. He remembered shock, relief, betrayal, anger. And hope. Something he hadn’t felt for all of the ten years before that.

His own distrustful reaction was making him angry now. To know his brother was alive in front of him yet still to point an arrow at him. But at the time, he had not trusted the hope. An infuriating ruse was more probable.

As the screens darkened the people all around them boomed with cheers, their hollering startling him.

“Alright, alright! This is what you voted for, folks. The top five Overwatch cinematic trailers and I, for one, am not surprised by the number one! Let me hear it, where all the Hanzo mains at???”

A substantial portion of people waved their hands in the air. The man laughed.

“And you all switch to healers when it’s needed, don’t you?” More screams of assent. “I knew that. You guys are no trolls.”

A hand on his shoulder startled Hanzo. Genji was there, visor glowing bright green, the other hand outstretched towards him.

And this time Hanzo did not hesitate to take it, crowds be dammed.

There was more screaming but he could ignore it a bit easier with his brother physically anchoring him in the moment. He let out a long breath.

“This is the worst mission ever.”

Genji chuckled. “Come one now. Worse than the first time you had to take me on a clan negotiation.”

Hanzo winced. He recalled that fiasco. They were still banned from that particular casino.

“Worst. Ever.”

“Alright.” Genji acquiesced. He waved few times to the crowd that was now again focusing on them and the presenter. The others, all still visibly shaken, seemed to come to their senses enough to play the roles - whatever those were supposed to be.

Hanzo did not listen to the man anymore, he had enough. Instead, he leaned over to the others.

“We have to get some device and try to find out what is this place.”

“And contact Winston.” Tracer peeped up.

Hanzo did not share his, admittedly whacky, theory about time travel but doubted there would be any Winston to contact here. But they could try. Maybe they will be lucky. For the first time today.

As they followed the man out of the stage several moments and a lot of waving later, the harried looking woman with a headset was waiting for them.  

“Okay, that went well. Good job, guys. Now, go mingle.”

“I beg your pardon?” McCree asked and she frowned at him.

“Go greet the fans.” Their bank faces must have been too much because she gritted her teeth. “I knew we should have gone with the cosplayers instead of damn actors. Do you at least know your lines?”

“There’s no need to be rude!” Tracer jumped in and the woman gave a satisfied nod.

“Nice, almost like the real Tracer, good. Now, please, spread amongst the fans, take pictures, entertain them. You know, do your job,” she emphasized, then pushed a button on the headset. “Yes, I know! They will be out in a second, we are on schedule, don’t worry.” She looked back to them. “Someone will keep an eye on you in case people start to harass you beyond reason. Other then that, you are on your own for the next two hours. Then meet me back here, for the final ceremony. Now go!”

They took the chance they were given and headed out of the backstage through a small unassuming door that had a ‘staff only’ sign on the outside of it.

“I-” tracer started, then fell silent. Several seconds ticked by before she tried again. “I don’t know what to think about this. It’s so surreal. It’s like we are not real to them.”

Mercy nodded, her brows creased in displeasure. Or distress. Hanzo was not well versed in her facial expressions, not even after two years with the team.

He contemplated sharing his thought on the matter but decided against it. “We should hurry and find a way to try and contact Watchpoint.”

McCree made a sound as if remembering something and then pulled something from his pocket. It looked like a bulky version of a holophone.

“Where did you get that?” Symmetra asked, taking it gingerly into her hand.

McCree shrugged. “Swiped it of the guy with glasses.”

The architech made a scandalized face at that, while Genji snickered patting McCree’s shoulder. “Nice one. Can we get into it?”

“It seems to be secured with a password, give me a few moments.” They all automatically made a wall of bodies around their working teammate. Whatever this was, no one needed to see her work with her hardlight technology.

It took about four minutes before she made a noise of satisfaction and handed it over to Tracer, who automatically put in the correct number for emergencies. They should have no problem getting connected to Athena, who would create a secure connection between them and the Watchpoint.

The look on Tracer’s face did not speak of success, however. She pulled the phone from her ear, making a face at it.

“It says the number doesn’t exist.”

“Can you access the internet from it?”

Tracer tried and nodded.

“Put in Overwatch.”

She gave him a puzzled look. And he gestured impatiently. “Do it, please.”

The please did it. He did not use it often and his teammates learned quickly to not dally if he did.

Several taps later, she gasped. “There’s nothing! Well, not nothing but all it has is some video game. Nothing about the real Overwatch!”

“Kuso!” The curse flew out of his mouth before he could even attempt to stop it. He was right, this wasn’t where they were supposed to be. Also, it ruled out time travel.  

“What do you mean there is nothing? You can’t erase that much information!” Mercy protested.

“It is not erased-” Hanzo began in an audibly defeated tone.

“-it never existed,” finished Symmetra, her eyes sparkling. “We knew. We knew it was not just a theory!”

“What? Wait, what?” McCree flickered between them. “What are you two on about?”

“Parallel realities!” Symmetra said in a voice far too excited for the situation. Then she dug into the compartment in her arm where she kept all her tools and pulled out the vial of purple colored something. Hanzo could not discern if it was liquid or solid.

“This is the sample I found in the briefcase in the rubble while we fought Talon. It made my teleporter several magnitudes more powerful but there was no information about it in the briefcase. I suspect it was being moved to or from the compound. If this indeed is what made us travel between the realities…” She let her voice fade as they all contemplated her words in silent horror.

“Talon has this,” Tracer whispered.

“And probably much more of it.” Symmetra nodded.

Hanzo did not understand the words Mercy said next but he understood the tone.

“We had no idea Talon has such weapon. They could invade other realities. Worlds that have no idea Talon exists.” Genji’s words painted a dark picture. McCree cursed.

“We can’t do nothin’ if we are not back in our own reality.” He paused, probably trying to come to terms with the sentence he had just said. Hanzo sympathized.

The sound of door closing startled them all.

Symmetra hid the vial back in her arm as they started moving towards the main hallway.

“We need to get out of here. Not just this world, this building.”

“You heard her, they will be keeping an eye on us.”

“So?”

“So, I don’t feel like making a scene. We need to get out of here quietly.”

“You have any ideas?” Genji asked him before McCree could say anything else.

“Let us split into pairs, making our way like that will be less conspicuous. We can circle to the exit by pretending to be what they think we are, just greeting the fans.”

“I still can’t believe we aren’t more than characters in a video game here,” Tracer murmured.

Hanzo tried very hard not to dwell on that. If he let himself fall down the rabbit hole he would be too distracted to be useful. They were still on a mission as far as he was concerned.

Alas, his brother seemed to be of a different opinion. He pulled Hanzo back a little, lowering his head towards his ear.

“Anija, are you okay?”

What a loaded question, Hanzo thought but nodded. “I am fine. Are you?”

Genji did not reply immediately and that made Hanzo pause in his step and look up at him. When his brother sighed he stopped completely.

“Genji?”

The cyborg turned to him but he was looking down, somewhere past Hanzo’s waist. “I think I have forgotten our father’s voice.”

Hanzo stared.

“I do remember his words. His actions. But hearing it today, it sounded foreign to me.”

What could he say to that? To himself that seemed unimaginable. The sound of his father’s voice was a near constant in his mind. Disparaging and reprimanding in equal measures.

“Does it bother you?” he asked finally.

“I do not know. I have some memories of the time we were children when he still occasionally acted like a father. But not many. And not as important as… other memories.” This time he did look at Hanzo. “You look a lot like he did.”

Hanzo knew that. Especially now that his undercut grew back in, the gray around his ears even more prominent. His feelings about it were complicated.

“Does it bother you?” he had to ask again. But Genji shook his head with a chuckle.

“You wear it better, aniki. Though I still think you are too young for grays. You are ruining our image.”

That made Hanzo roll his eyes. It was an old and well-rehearsed argument.

“Come on!” McCree called before he could say more. “Move it you two!”

Instead, he patted Genji’s shoulder in a consoling gesture that felt appropriate. His brother was always the tactile one between the two of them and it took a lot from Hanzo to reacquaintance himself with it. But after two years of rebuilding it came to him easier than he would have thought. Still, it wasn't the same as when they were boys and he made his peace with it. Some things cannot be salvaged, no matter how much work one puts towards it.

The others were waiting for them by the map of the complex, people milling around them, chattering excitedly as they headed for their destinations. Some pausing to look at the group, few even pulling out their bulky phones and snapping pictures.

“Okay,” McCree said when they joined them. “We will head for this exit here.” He pointed at the map. “It’s closest to the parking lots and we can disappear there. Symmetra thinks she can reverse whatever she did to her teleporter to get us back but she will need time to do it. So, she and Mercy will take the direct route. The four of us will cover for them, that means attracting attention so they won’t be held up much. You three okay with that?” Genji and Tracer both nodded and Hanzo knew it was what they needed to do. So he acquiesced as well.

“Alright. Genji, you and Tracer will take this route,” he guided his finger on the map alongside their trail near the resting area and food stands, then switched to a different one. “This one’s ours, I think it’s where the trinkets can be bought or something.”

They all agreed and after that, there was no more hesitation. They had a plan now. It was better than what they had fifteen minutes ago.

“Yer pretty quiet,” McCree said as another well-pleased fan hopped off with at least six photos of them with and without her.

“That is unusual?”

McCree laughed. “Maybe not. But this is a different kind of quiet. Something on your mind?”

Hanzo huffed. McCree knew very well there was bound to be a lot on all of their minds. That is what happens when one discovers multidimensional travel is possible.

But he also knew that was not what McCree was asking about.

“There never was an Omnic crisis in this world. There are no Omnics either. Can you imagine that?”

McCree shrugged.

“‘am sure they have their own troubles. No world can be idyllic. Humans are too flawed fer that.”

Hanzo cocked an eyebrow at him. “How cynical of you.” He couldn’t stop the small smirk.

“Nah. Just realistic. And you are deflecting.”

“Maybe,” Hanzo allowed, stopping as a group of youngsters in costumes approached. One of them had a vibrant green hair and orange scarf. Also, a paper katana strapped to his back.

“Brother!” He called, throwing hands in the air in excitement. Hanzo realized he was indeed looking similar to how Genji had looked in their teenage years. The pang of pain was expected but no less sharp for it.

“Genji,” he allowed, playing his role. Behind the young Genji was a girl dressed as Mei and… was that a really thin Reinhardt?

“Oh wow. I’ve never seen cosplay this good!” The Mei gushed. “Or McCree this hot,” she added in a very un-Mei like manner.

McCree just laughed, sparing a wink for her.

“Now ain’t you a sweetheart. Thank ya kindly.”

She blushed. Hanzo couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Do not flatter him. His ego barely fits in here as it is.”

“Ouch! So cruel, archer!” McCree presses a hand to his chest plate. Hanzo was unmoved.

“Aww, you two are too cute together!” The Reinhardt of all people cooed and Hanzo startled.

They were nothing of the sort!

“Right? I keep telling him but he just won’t budge!” McCree exclaimed and Hanzo wished he could punch him.

The trio cooed some more and then asked for pictures. They obliged, Hanzo waiting just long enough for them to be out of earshot before turning to the cowboy.

“That was in no way necessary!”

“Oh come on, Hanzo. You can’t say you didn’t notice.”

Hanzo did notice. He saw the pictures changing hands and heard the exclaims of joy when some people saw them side by side. These three weren’t even the first to imply Hanzo and McCree were in some sort of relationship. But that did not actually mean anything and he did not wish to consider the implications. Not more than he already did, anyway.

“It is different. To them we are just characters.”

McCree’s eyes bore into him. He could feel it as he avoided them, pinning his own gaze at the exit in the distance.

He heard McCree murmur something under his breath but when nothing else came from the cowboy, he relaxed.

By the time they got to the exit, they had been stopped innumerable times for photographs or just to be told their ‘costumes’ are splendid. They had encountered varieties of versions of other Overwatch agents, amongst which were particularly memorable cat Genji, female versions of both of them, pink Reaper that made McCree laugh to the point of tears, and slutty Soldier 76 that made McCree pale in horror and Hanzo consider a blunt force trauma as possibility for memories removal. It took them more than an hour to get through the hall and they were both utterly exhausted by the forced human interaction.

It felt heavenly to finally slip through the door and towards freedom.

The underground parking lot they were supposed to meet in was not far and it took about four minutes of brisk walk to get there. Both Tracer and Genji and Mercy and Symmetra were already there.

Hanzo raised his eyebrows at several items his brother was holding pressed to his chest.

“Really, brother? Souvenirs?”

Genji looked back at him unashamed and unapologetic. “These will all be one of a kind when we get back. And they were gifts!”

Hanzo turned to Tracer, who just shrugged and grinned. Her mood seemed to improve quite a bit; she almost appeared to be in her usual good spirits.

“How’s it lookin’?” McCree asked.

“We are ready. Just waiting for you to get here.”

Hanzo looked at the purple-tinged teleporter in Symmetra’s hands.

“You believe it will work?” he asked seriously, not because he doubted her abilities but because this was all guessing work.

“I reversed it exactly. If our assumptions are correct there is no reason why it shouldn’t work.”

“That means we will end up right at the door of high alert Talon base, though,” McCree pointed out.

“Well,” Tracer said, “At least we will know right away if it worked. And we got out of worse, so don’t you worry too much.”

Hanzo really had no more to add and so he just nodded and Symmetra activated it.

This time, McCree was the first one through, and as always, Hanzo followed the foolish man.

[alexiela73]

Hi!!!! Congrats on 1000!!!! 🎉🎉🎉 You definitely deserve them plus another 1000!!!! May I request blackwatch Mccree trying to woo a female reader who isn’t really experienced in dating, and is super nervous about guys? Like, she wants to be with Jesse, but flirting makes her shy and nervous? (Could I also maybe get a kiss thrown in there too????? :) Thanks! 😊 Your writing’s always so good, I can’t wait!

Thank you! I know this is a little late but I really appreciate that!!! I was actually kind of excited for this one. 

“Staring at her isn’t creepy at all,” Genji Shimada said sarcastically, his voice low as he slowly leaned against the wall beside Jesse McCree at the outside training area. Right now there was a training group in session for Blackwatch, and Commander Gabriel Reyes was leading them in a set of exercises. 

Sitting on a bench, a cigar hanging from between his lips, Jesse at first only tipped his hat at Genji in response. Then after a moment, he took the cigar from his lips and slowly blew out a cloud of smoke, his eyes never leaving you once. It reminded Genji of a predatory gaze, and he was sure you could feel Jesse’s eyes too.

Slowly, Jesse glanced up at the brooding cyborg “She just doesn’t make sense to me,” Jesse mutters, before looking back at you. You were small and nimble, and there have been many times so far in the last month or so that he’s found himself lost when seeing your smile.

“Any girl who doesn’t instantly fall for you doesn’t make sense to you,” Genji said with a chuckle. “Perhaps this one is smart?”

Jesse growled slightly, before taking another puff of the cigar. He knew you could see him watching, but you purposely kept your gaze away. Jesse found you intriguing. You avoided him, and you remained mute most of the times that he spoke to you, keeping your gaze down. When you did talk, you stuttered rather adorably, in his opinion. 

One way or another, Jesse couldn’t tell if you were interested or not, but so far he was leaning towards not. And that was not going to fly, because unfortunately for you, he was very interested in you.

“Alright, time for sparring practice,” Gabriel said, hands on his hips as he looked over the line of trainees. Eyes stopping on you, he grinned and pointed with his thumb at the sparring circle. “Get up there, guppy.” Gabriel always called trainees guppies until they���d reached their sixth month.

You grimaced, but went into the ring. Your skills were pretty good, and you were a lot higher in the class then the rest. But you hated being singled out, and honestly, it was nerve wracking to be training when Jesse McCree was watching you like a hawk. It made you scared to fail, and honestly made you feel warm all over in a way you were unused to. 

Gabriel was rubbing his chin. “Who’d like to be s/o’s opponent?” Gabe asked the other trainees, slowly walking back and forth in front of them, eyeing them.

No one offered, most of them to embarrassed by the chance of being taken down by a girl. After a moment though, a voice that you both feared and loved spoke, his accent putting butterflies in your stomach.

“I’ll do it,” Jesse said, getting up slowly and putting out his cigar. Raising an eyebrow, Genji watched Jesse with mild curiosity. What game was the cowboy playing?

You prayed that Gabriel would say no, but the commander looked like he was very much considering it. “Fine,” he said, shrugging. “No weapons and no backing down, though. Don’t play easy either, McCree.” He moved out of the circle, as did everyone else as they whispered.

Smirking, Jesse’s eyes met yours. “Never do, boss. Now, why don’t we make a lil’ bet, darlin’,” Jesse drawled, shrugging out of his sarape and putting his gun belt on top of where it was now folded off to the side.

You stared mutely at him, nerves getting at you, but you knew backing down was weakness. You’d struggled to avoid him before, but now it was time to face the man who you lusted after. If only you had more experience with men, but you didn’t and you were having a hard time with him.

“If I win, you go out on a date with me this Friday,” Jesse said, as if you’d agreed and he slowly rolls up his sleeves. You could feel everyone whispering around you, and Gabriel face palming on the side line. “If you win...” Jesse didn’t expect you to ask for anything, really.

There was a moment, though, that you felt rather bold. “Then you’ll stop this aggressive flirting and stalking,” you said, trying to sound strong but it was a bit hard, as you gazed into those eyes of his that seemed to strip your soul bare.

Jesse blinked, scratching his head. “I agree to the terms but...they aren’t aggressive,” Jesse defends, sure that your exaggerating a bit. He’s been nothing but gentlemanly and kind, as far as he’s sure. “And I wouldn’t say I’m a stalker-”

Slowly as the two of you circled each other, you scowled at him. “Being near my door every morning when I head to training so that you can walk beside me, with or without permission, even if I’m early or late heading to...that is stalking,” you point out. “Forcefully saying I’m beautiful and that you’ll rock me in bed is both overconfident and aggressive.”

A few of the people around them chuckled, and Gabriel seemed quite amused, even as Jesse frowned. “Hey, I was just saying the truth. And I wasn’t being forceful, or overconfident,” he said, watching your pose. When would you strike?

For once, you weren’t so tongue-tied and circling him as you did now, you felt almost at ease. How strange, considering every other time you couldn’t look him in the eyes you were so nervous. 

“Oh ya? You’re being awfully overconfident right now too, thinking you’ll automatically win,” you said, giving him a look.

Scowling, Jesse glared. “You think you can win? The date is as good as-” before Jesse could even finish that sentence, you took that moment of distraction and lunged. Jesse didn’t realize until you were right in front of him, your fist coming right from under his chin to do an uppercut.

There was real force, and Jesse found himself falling back, the world going black for probably ten, fifteen seconds. Whatever it was, when he opened his eyes, he was laying on his back on the ground, you standing over his and his jaw hurting a bit.

Everyone was hurrying over, and in the back he could just hear Genji- Genji the cold and uncaring, laughing his ass off loudly. Gabriel was grinning, and you looked so anxious.

“Are you okay?” you asked immediately, feeling bad but you weren’t going to just let him win that. And in the moment, you’d known that a big man like him was strong, and would likely have had you grappled to the floor quickly. So you had put all your force into a blow you knew that would hopefully leave him unconscious, even for a moment.

Blinking slowly, Jesse stared at you. “You...you knocked me out,” he said, stunned.

Looking embarrassed, you rubbed the back of your head. “I’m really sorry about that. But hey, I won?” you said, embarrassed and proud at the same time. It had been a good match, even if only one person got to make a move.

It took him a moment to realize that you’d really won, and disappointment slowly filled him as he forced himself to sit up, noticing his hat had fallen off. The trainees around him had started to back up, still whispering among themselves and almost looking fearful of you.

“Well...honestly, didn’t see that coming. But...you’re good. You know what you’re doing. A+,” Jesse murmurs, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Guess I won’t be seeing you around anymore, then.” The disappointment and sadness were much stronger then he’d imagined possible. 

Blinking, you frowned and held out his hat to him. “I didn’t...I didn’t say I wanted you to leave me alone,” you said, your cheeks turning a dark pink. “I...I just...said not to be so aggressive in your attempt to woo me. I prefer my men to be a little more...sensitive,” you decided the word was suitable.

In the back, Genji said just loud enough. “Oh, he’s sensitive alright. Cried like a bitch during Bambi.” To which Jesse gritted his teeth, trying with difficulty to ignore. But he was more focused on your words.

“I...I see. Then...” Jesse tried to think. His head hurt just a little. “Would...would you please like to go on a date with me sometime soon?” He said, a bit more kindly and gentle then his many other attempts.

You supposed after knocking him flat on his ass and embarrassing him a bit that a date was okay. “Fine. But...only on one condition,” you said, chewing on your bottom lip in a way that made him desperate to kiss you.

“What’s the condition?” he asked, willing to do anything for you as you stared without realizing through your lashes at him, the look on your face rather exquisite and sultry....you didn’t mean to.

“Can we watch Bambi 1 and 2 together?” you asked sweetly, wanting to see his reaction to it.

Fucking Genji, he thought to himself but agreed, since it was the only way to get you to date him.

[prettyfunkyunorganized]

Christmas Daughter Series - Roadhog

Ever notice that Roadhog has one little spot on the left piece of his breastplate that doesn’t have a patch? We’re fixing that tonight :D

The Junker trio are doing their holiday thing! Almost 3,500 words this time :O Hope you enjoy! Lil more Daisy and JR fluff in this one, so I hope you guys are down for that! Cause I’m overly excited.

More Daughter Series:  Hanzo, McCree, Reaper, Soldier 76, Genji, Roadhog

Halloween Daughter Series: Roadhog, McCree, Genji, Reaper

Roadhog Installments: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

Christmas Daughter Series: Reaper

Roadhog hadn’t done Christmas in the typical way for years. Junkrat usually planned some sort of cheeky heist – something done purely for fun and guaranteed to get them on a few headlines the next morning, but not this year. This year, the holidays were all about Daisy. Gretchen, her mother, hadn’t exactly given the young woman a lot of fond memories of Santa or presents under a tree, so Roadhog had decided to go all out.

Much to his surprise, Junkrat had been fine with postponing the criminal activity to make Princess’s Christmas better. The lanky man had actually lit up with excitement and before scuttling into the workshop and locking himself in for the rest of the day. Roadhog was a bit worried, but at least the demolitionist was occupied, giving Daisy and her father a chance to make paper snowflakes in peace. Junkrat would just shred the paper and make a giant mess, that much Roadhog knew. Every room in their little shack was covered in an artificial blizzard soon, and Daisy was delighted. Roadhog promised to take her somewhere with real snow soon. She’s never seen it before.

Junkrat and Princess had sent days rigging up a metal Christmas tree covered in wild lights and topped with a springy star that bobbed about merrily. Problem was, the damn thing was too big to get in the house, so they had to take it apart and bolt it back together after cramming the three pieces through the front door. It took up half the living room, but that just meant Roadhog got to sit a little closer to Daisy in the evenings. His little girl would lounge on the couch with him for hours, scribbling out designs and staring at the decorations with a smile on. Roadhog loved to see her like this, safe and happy and close enough to nuzzle with his mask.

By the time Christmas rolled around, there were dozens of presents wrapped up and waiting for the big day. About 95% had Daisy’s name on them, and most of them were immaculately wrapped.

“Strewth, Roadie,” Junkrat barked, twirling a small red box adorned with a silk poinsettia and a white bow. “How did you wrap these up so fancy like? And where did you find all this shiny paper and ribbons?! And why is my gift just dumped in a sack?!”

“I got my ways,” the bodyguard said vaguely, snatching the package and setting it back down carefully. “And yours is too big for the showy stuff.”

“I think you just only wanna spoil yer Princess. Harsh! Makin’ me feel like a lump of bull dust,” Junkrat pouted jokingly.

Daisy walked over and patted Junkrat’s shoulder, “You still got a bow, JR. A big, soft one too! What’s that stuff called again?”

“Velvet,” Roadhog replied.

“Yeah, velvet! You got a velvety bow, so its still plenty special,” Daisy assured him.

“Well, it is the biggest one under the tree . . .” Junkrat said thoughtfully. “I suppose it’s okay then.”

“That’s the spirit,” she laughed, putting the gift bag she was holding with all the others. Another one for the bomb maker.

“For me,” he squealed, high pitched enough to make Roadhog cringe.

“Just for you,” Daisy giggled.

“I was startin’ to think you didn’t get me nothin,’” Junkrat laughed, examining the package. Princess smacked his hand.

“The reason I didn’t bring it out here is because I didn’t want you messing it up or peeking! For all your whining about you big gift bag, you sure have been trying to sneakily tear it open and take a look,” Daisy scolded. Roadhog burst out laughing.

“You know I’m not a patient guy, Princess, the suspense is killing me!”

“I know, I know,” she said gently, “that’s why I waited to show you your present. Just trying to spare you the pain.”

She squeezed Junkrat’s arm before turning away, and he smiled at her in a way that was much too peaceful for a man like him. Roadhog squinted at his blonde comrade, suspicion pinching at the large man’s spine.

“Always lookin’ out for me, aren’t ya, Daisy,” Junkrat murmured.

“I try,” she shrugged, a flush coming to her cheeks. Now Roadhog was really getting worried. Before he could say anything, the moment was over, and Daisy had gone back to her gift wrapping, and Junkrat was fiddling with a flickering light at the bottom of the tree. Must have been nothing.

It was much too early in the morning when Junkrat started screaming and hollering, “It’s Christmas ya sleepy bastards! Get the hell up and let’s open some gifts!”

“Fucking hell,” Roadhog hissed as he unwillingly woke up and pulled on his pants. He’d been up half the night putting up last minute decorations to surprise his Princess. He shuffled into the room, still clicking his mask into place. He flopped on to the couch, watching Junkrat sort through the mountains of presents.

A grumpy groan came from behind Roadhog, and he twisted around to see Daisy wandering slowly into the room, rubbing her tired eyes. Without looking, she wandered over to her father’s side and fell into his strong arm. He chuckled and rubbed her back.

“It’s too early,” she whimpered.

“I know, cutie pie, I know.”

“Oh come on ya party poopers, it’s Christmas! No such thing as too early,” Junkrat said sliding over a couple of crates with Roadhog’s name on them. “Here ya go, big guy, this oughta take the edge off.”

The large man curiously tore off the lid with his bare hands. “Well I’ll be damned,” he scoffed, pulling out a bottle of beer. “You found my favorite amber fluid? Two cases?” He laughed loudly and grinned. “How’d you manage that?”

“I’m just a talented guy,” Junkrat said pompously.

Roadhog popped off the top and made a cheers motion to the demolitionist who gave him a thumbs up in return. He took a swing and moaned happily. “Oh god, that’s good.”

Daisy giggled, looking up at Roadhog for a moment before her expression turned to one of awe. She swiveled around, staring at the green and red banners lining the walls, “Merry Christmas, Daisy” hanging in the wide doorframe leading to the kitchen. Fake wreaths and garlands were draped all over with lights woven through. He was rather proud of how it turned out.

“Roadhog,” she murmured breathlessly, “did you do all this last night?”

“Mmhmm.”

“For me?”

He rumbled out a low laugh. “Of course, Princess.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tight, “Roadhog! You’re the best! This is so beautiful. I’ve never seen anything so pretty in my whole life . . .”

It sounded like she was on the verge of tears and he gripped her tight, “I’m just glad you like it.”

“I love it,” she said wistfully. After a moment she pulled away and wiped her teary cheeks. “I was going to make pavolva for breakfast – I bartered for all the stuff last time we were in town. Can you guys wait on presents a little longer?”

“Pavolva? You got stuffs for pavolva,” Junkrat gaped. Daisy nodded proudly.

“Fruit too,” Roadhog asked.

“Yup! Not all of it’s fresh, but some of it is,” she said excitedly, “The rest is canned, but it should still be good.”

“Ugh,” Junkrat grunted, flopping onto the floor, “I haven’t had a good pavolva in ages! I can wait a little longer for gifts if it means cake.”

“I’ll go get started then,” she said hopping up and heading to the kitchen.

“Wait,” Roadhog called after her, rising from his seat and shifting through the presents. “Open these first,” he said handing her three small gifts.

Daisy had discovered recently she loved to cook and bake, but the Junkers didn’t have a whole lot of supplies for that sort of thing. His Princess squealed with delight as she unwrapped a pair of circular baking pans, some spoons and spatulas, and a large baking bowl. He knew there was a cutting board in the mess too, but he couldn’t remember which package it was in. The silver bag? Or was that the book about the history of circuitry?

She darted into the kitchen and began to beat the egg whites, bouncing to the beat of a carol she was quietly singing. Roadhog watched fondly. What a perfect sight.

“Ay, Princess,” Junkrat said hopping to his feet, “you need a hand? Want me to cut up some kiwis or something?”

“That depends,” Daisy snorted, “can I trust you with a kitchen knife? They aren’t as chipped and blunted as yours.”

“My cute baby girl with a bite,” Roadhog said amusedly under his breath.

Junkrat didn’t seem to hear and ran to Daisy’s side. “I’ll be careful, promise!”

Soon the oven was doing its job, and everyone was gathered around the tree again, windows open to let in the morning air before it got too hot. Junkrat piled all of Daisy’s presents around her, making a fort of love and affection. Roadhog handed her gifts in a calculated order, saving the best for last. Junkrat leaned over the back of the couch watching and guessing what each package had inside. Daisy had protested numerous times, saying someone else should open something, but the two men would have none of it. Eventually, she only had one left.

“Here you go,” Roadhog said setting the box in her lap.

“Ohoho, this'll be good,” Junkrat sang, wiggling.

Daisy ran her fingers over the smooth paper and bit her lip. “Last one.”

“Last one,” Roadhog nodded.

She kept looking at the package, toying with the taped corner.

“What’s wrong,” Junkrat asked eyeing her with one brow up.

“It’s nothing, I just . . .” She hesitated.

“What is it Daisy,” Roadhog asked weaving his fingers through her hair.

“I just don’t want this day to be over soon. I’ve never had a holiday this great before. Not even as a kid. I know it’s not all about the presents and stuff, but it still feels like this is ending,” she sighed.

“Aww, Daisy! Nothing’s ending,” Junkrat said jostling her shoulder. “This is just one day out of the year. We’ll be having just as much fun tomorrow, just with less glittery stuff on the walls!”

“You swear,” she said, her big eyes looking up at the blonde dejectedly.

“Of course, Princess.” Junkrat’s voice was incredibly kind and soft. It was creepy. Really creepy to Roadhog. But that didn’t matter right now. Daisy did.

He pulled the girl into his arms and put her head on his chest. “Baby girl,” the big man cooed, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she muttered unconvincingly.

“C’mon,” Roadhog encouraged her.

“I’m just so happy here, and I don’t ever want it to end. Everything seems to too to be true sometimes, like at any moment my mom is going to break down the door and take me away again. Now that been in a real home with a real family I don’t think I could ever go back.”

She sniffled into him, and her tears were warm against Roadhog’s skin. He petted his Princess’s hair and hushed her softly until she pulled away.

Roadhog took each of her hands and gripped them tight. “No one is taking you away from here, Daisy, I promise. Not your mom, not anyone. I love you so much, Princess. So much. I’m never going to let anyone hurt you again, and I’m going to be by your side for as long as I possibly can be.”

Daisy’s little thumb wiggled in her father’s grasp. “You swear?”

“There’s not a thing in this world that could pull me from you,” he said shakily, throat tight.

The young woman sighed heavily, calming herself. “I believe you,” Daisy said with a small smile.

“You better,” Roadhog said pressing the forehead of his mask against her forehead, making his daughter giggle.

Roadhog flopped over the back of the couch, his long arms propping up his head. “Open up your last gift from your pops, Princess, then you’ll feel better. Then we can finish the cake, and you can open up your gift from me!”

“Okay,” she said crossing her legs and putting the present back in her lap, “but only if you open yours from me first.”

“Deal,” Junkrat cheered enthusiastically.

Very delicately, Daisy peeled the bow and foliage off the box, setting them aside before taking off the pretty paper. Roadhog watched and gnawed his lip. He took a chance with this one, but if it paid off, it would pay off in droves.

She let out a stunned gasp first, then burst out laughing, then squealed in delight! “ROADHOG! It’s perfect!”

Junkrat was giggling wildly. “That’s what you saved for last? Really,” the demolitionist asked. Daisy instantly smacked him.

“Don’t you dare make fun of my crown, you asshole!” She smoothed her hair and placed the glimmering tiara on her head, the delicate metal flowers and pink piggy ears framing her face just right. “I gotta go see how it looks,” she said before hopping off the couch and sprinting to the bathroom. The boys could hear her squeal again, even louder.

She came barreling back into the room, leaping into giving Roadhog a massive hug. “This is the best thing EVER! The roses are so shiny, and the daisies are so shimmery, and the ears are just the right size!” Her soft body swayed back and forth, holding her father tight. “I’m never ever taking it off! Ever!”

“I’m glad you like it,” the silver-haired Junker chuckled, planting a masked kiss on her arm.

Right on time, the kitchen timer went off, and Daisy headed to the oven. The three of them each had a heaping plate of meringue cake topped with berries and sweet fruit. They sat around the table, eating until Junkrat could wait no more, tearing open the box of illegal fireworks Roadhog had found for him and bringing over Princess’s gift to him. The blondie cackled as he pulled out a pair of bright green, light up Christmas shorts that sang at the press of a button.

“My Daisy-doo! You found a way to make me even more obnoxious and loud,” Junkrat gushed. Roadhog pretended to stab his fork in his ear.

“Sorry Roadie,” she shrugged, “I couldn’t help but give them to him – they’re just so  . . . him!”

“He’s just jealous,” Junkrat said sticking his nose in the air and putting his hands on his waistband. He began to pull off his trousers right then and there, making Daisy cover her eyes and laugh. Roadhog smacked him in the head and shoved him into the living room.

“What,” the bomb maker protested loudly, “I’ve got my underdacks on!” He rounded the corner and began to change, suddenly saying, “Oh. I thought I had ‘em on.”

Roadhog groaned miserably. “If I could go back in time, back that bar and tell him to fuck off, I would.”

“Oh you like the skinny little doofus, and you know it,” Daisy grinned.

“Not when he’s stripping in front of my daughter!”

“Well yeah, but that’s only happened once. So far.”

“Don’t tease me, young lady,” Roadhog said, pretending to scold her.

Junkrat sauntered back into the room and did an over the top dance in his flashy new outfit that made even Roadhog snicker out a small laugh.

“Now you open mine,” the demolitionist said bringing over his sloppily wrapped gift. He seemed more excited than Daisy did.

“JR,” she gasped, “you shouldn’t have! My own pink blowtorch! With daisies on it!”

“Painted it up myself,” he beamed. “Just glad the varnish dried in time.”

“Now I don’t have to pry yours from your hands!” Daisy stood and gave Junkrat an unexpected hug. The lanky man froze in shock before smiling goofily and wrapping his arms around her, closing his eyes contentedly.

What. The. Hell. Was that face he was making? Roadhog had to hold back a growl as Junkrat’s skinny fingers pressed into Daisy’s skin hard enough to make little indents, but she moved away a split second later.

“Your turn Roadhog,” Princess chimed, heading to the tree one last time. The larger Aussie was still glaring at the man he was hired to protect.

Junkrat gave the masked man a quizzical look. “Are you angry under there? ‘Cause I feel like you’re givin’ me a dirty look, big guy.”

“Just watch yourself, little man,” he snapped.

Daisy rejoined the group, not sensing the tension in the room. “Here you go!” Her smile was sweet enough to put her father at ease.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Roadhog said grabbing her hand and nuzzling it with his mask.

“I wanted to,”’ she replied, “but you sure didn’t make it easy to come up with an idea.”

“Hmm,” Roadhog hummed curiously, flipping over the thin package. He tore it open, and a sturdy metal applique fell into his hand. A white and yellow daisy with a silver crown over the middle of the flower looked back at him. “Aw Princess. . .”

“When I asked you what you wanted, you kept telling me all you wanted was to keep me close, so I made you a badge for your breastplate. I know it’s sorta small and it's not perfect but – ”

“It is perfect,” Roadhog assured her, grabbing her arm and tickling her until she fell into his lap. “You’re perfect. I love it, and you, baby girl.”

“Love you, too,” Daisy said, face still red from the tickles.  

The rest of the day was spent finding a place for all of the Princess’s new trinkets, having a water fight in the sun, and snacking happily on the porch. Everything was so peaceful that Roadhog had forgotten all about the strange moments between Daisy and Junkrat, until late in the evening when the bodyguard almost walked in on the two of them talking outside.

“Uh, Princess,” Junkrat said quietly, sitting beside her on the steps. She beamed back at him.

“What’s up, JR?”

“I, um, I have something else for you. For Christmas.” He was jittery, but not in the usual way.

Daisy tilted her head and frowned. “Something else?”

“Another gift. Just a little one, but yeah.” With a twisted face, Junkrat reached deep into his pocket and searched around. He stopped and grinned at Daisy. “Close your eyes! I didn’t wrap this one up. Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” she said, closing her lids tights.

Junkrat took one of her hands and slipped something into it. “And . . . open!”

She looked into her palm and jerked back in surprise. “JR, where on Earth did you get this?”

Roadhog moved from one side to the other, trying to get a better view, but then Daisy held up a heart-shaped pendant hanging from a silver chain. That wasn’t from any heist, at least not one the two men had been on together.

“I made it,” Junkrat said staring at Daisy as she watched the necklace glint in the dimming light.

“You made this?! All the little engravings and all,” she gaped.

“Yup,” he snickered. “Been a while since I did detail work, but it turned out pretty swanky.”

“Swanky,” Daisy laughed, “I’ve stolen stuff from museums, seen priceless artifacts, and I’ve raided about a dozen jewelry stores, but I’ve never seen anything even half as stunning as this.”

“You’re stunning,” Junkrat said so plainly it made Roadhog recoil.

“Aw, JR,” she giggled, going bright red.

He let out a strained laugh. “Uh, oops? Too much?”

“No, I just don’t think I’ll ever get used to you saying stuff like that to me.” Daisy looped the necklace around her with a dreamy expression. “I should have got you something special like this, too.”

“Are you saying my shorts aren’t special,” Junkrat scoffed.

“You know what I mean,” Daisy said giving him a look. He snorted out a laugh, but nodded

“Trust me, Princess, having you around is all I need,” Junkrat sighed. “You make everything special.”

Daisy physically melted, slumping into a mushy pile. She wriggled a bit close to the blonde, resting her head on his shoulder. His head instantly went on top of hers.

Roadhog wanted to scream.

They were cuddling.

That lanky, messy, gross, dangerous bastard was snuggling with his daughter. His baby girl!

But she was happy. Completely happy huddled up next to Junkrat of all people.

So Roadhog didn’t scream, he just walked away, letting the two of them pretend the world wasn’t as mangled as it really was.

He’d deal with . . . whatever this was eventually, but not tonight.

“I am not cut out for this part of the fathering shit. Showering her with affection? Can do. But fucking boyfriends?” Roadhog shuddered at the word. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

Additional tags: @watch-your-grammer @winchester-sonsandcastiel @zarcake-writes @envy-kitty

[gyromitra-esculenta]

trying to defeat writer’s block be like throwing stuff at wall and seeing what sticks. so, r76 excerpts out of that one au i was not supposed to write, and maybe sleeps. whatevers. *plants face into desk and sleeps*

The sky is on fire, the rushing clouds washed in crimson rumble with voices of many, and smoldering ash clogs the air, but Jack reaches out with his hand towards the disappearing back of a man he feels he should know – even if he is not sure this is a man, a human, because no human has claws dripping with blood.

Everything is rubble and destruction, death and agony, twisted life and undeath springing up in tangled boughs ripping streets and buildings alike as he falls into a molten blaze in his chase, only to wake up to a lullaby that brings up something buried deep and forgotten.

“Nice of you to join us, sunshine,” red eyes morph into brown, almost black, and Jack releases the breath caught in his throat when Lena elbows Genji and pushes him back.

“Down, dragon boy, I need to check Jack’s…” She fiddles with something on the side of his visor. “Okay, luv, you’re good to go.”

“Sure, sure, baby. And why the fuck are we supposed to go after that Lacroix babe?” Genji rolls his eyes, stretching.

“Don’t question orders. Execute them,” Winston gets up. “Lena?”

“Okay, dears, we’re going to put Amelie Lacroix, hiding out in her luxurious apartment, into our custody. You know, the president of Talon corporation, and they have their finger in so many pies they actually run out of hands.”

“Protective custody,” Winston adds.

“Oh boy, this is going to be so much fun,” Genji snorts, flicking his fingers.

“With the bloodbath that went down in Talon headquarters, which she is tied to directly, we are expecting resistance,” Hanzo mutters under his breath.

“We are doing it by the book,” Winston cuts in, irritation clear in his voice.

“Because,” Lena chirpily adds, “we think that the head honchos at Talon will try to keep her real quiet if anything. If you know what I mean. Chop-chop quiet. Glasgow smile quie…”

“Enough, Lena,” Winston grumbles when APC stops. “You come with me, Hanzo with Reinhardt, and you, Genji, with Jack.”

“Fuck it, why do I have to go with him?” Jack sighs in agreement.

“Because you’re being a luv, as usual,” Lena giggles, jumping out. And Jack… Jack has a very bad feeling about this all as his HUD flickers.

*

There is a certain dreamlike quality to the column of fire that rises into the sky and the blast wave feels like a caress as the red eyes turn towards him.

“Always rushing in, Sunshine.”

Jack knows he should not survive this, the wind, the debris, the heat, but somehow he hears Lacroix’s level voice above as his vision cuts out.

“We need to run the containment protocol.”

*

“He’s going into cardiac,” one of the surgeons mentions at the pain that blossoms in his chest. “Give him two hundred for a start.”

Somehow, Jack sees himself on that table, all tinted in blood-red, and monsters tear at his flesh.

*

The explosion was real. It happened, the electromagnetic storm painting the sky visible through glass roof with pastel colors is a proof of that and Jack knows he should be blind. He stared right into the fiery red inferno.

Then maybe he is blind as he follows a vaguely human visage, a truly more animalistic thing with claws dripping blood, through the battlefield the hospital has become.

Soon he realizes that the windows are merely screens, broken, repeating a flashing image of the artificial sky. They are underground.

*

“Oh, thank god, Jack, here,” Lena calls him over the communicator.

“Sergeant Morrison, come, step into the chamber,” Lacroix adds on the intercom. ‘Said the spider to the fly’, Jack chuckles darkly to himself just as he does what he is told.

“Amelie, uh, just asking, but are his lil swimmers going to be okay after that?” God, leave it to Lena, to ask the important and cringe-worthy questions.

“That, Cherie, should be the least of our concerns.”

The smell of ozone hits his nose and Jack can feel the hair on his arms rise with static electricity. Everything goes to shit, the doors on the other side of the room blast open with an explosive charge, and the world becomes dreamlike again as the intruders, the ones hunting them, turn their guns at each other, dark tendrils of something living wrenching their hands and crushing them at the same time.

He thinks he is bleeding as he falls down.

“What’s the matter, Sunshine?” The beast by the tree asks, coiled in darkness, too many teeth and eyes burning red twitching in the shuddering mass crawling along the fluid surface. The claws move over his face. “Aren’t you getting too close to the fire for the comfort?”

“Have I ever stepped out of it?” It ripples in mirth.

“You were free for a while,” the darkness melts against him and yields under his fingers.

“I think I forgot a lot,” Jack whispers looking into ‘J’ and ‘G’ carved into the bark.

“Harbinger project. Only explanation why la poule brought you here at all,” Gerard turns back. “Finish it up.”

He braces for the pain but something almost physical pulls him back and throws him to the ground. The rest is training, repetition and that little thing that refuses to be satiated with blood spilled in the back of his mind.

*

“You mean Shrike. As in, the Shrike?” Lena giggles. “And you are helping us now why?”

“Because,” the garbled voice on the other side answers, “if Morrison gets his ass blown up, there will be nothing to stop Reaper.”

“Right. Reaper.”

“Don’t joke around, girl. This monster can, and will, bring the end of the world as we know it. The Harbinger is the only thing that can stop it and the little monsters they spawned out of it.”

The Shrike speaks as if he knows. But he knows nothing, not really. Jack feels his lips curl up a little bit when he sees the apparition, a bloodied long-limbed monster, stalking along the wall after the panicking soldiers.

Stop it? No. No-one can. No-one will.

“I see you.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, Lena. How’s your status?”

*****************************

“So are you going to stand here and talk your ass off or are you going to get me out of here?” Sombra blinks in confusion, not used to having her monologues and gloating interrupted, and Jesse tries to hide his snicker behind his hand.

“I could kill you, old man!”

“So could a determined sheep.”

“Did you… did you just compare me to a sheep?” Sombra squawks indignantly.

“I’m just not very fond of sheep. It’s mutual, I’m told.” Morrison knocks on the reinforced glass. “The fucking fish tank?”

“I told you, witch, that if Reyes is invested in this guy, he must be a piece of work.”

“And you look like you never outgrew your weeaboo phase,” Morrison interjects with more knocking.

“Ha, I think I like him regardless of him calling me a sheep,” this time Sombra smirks. “I say we keep him, idiot.”

“Ah, fer fuck’s sake,” Jesse shoots the panel and kicks it in, only to be met with a vicious jab to the face in return. “What the fuck?”

But Morrison is outside and turns his eyes on Sombra. The witch teleports a good ten meters away while Jack rolls his shoulders.

“I owe you both for making my life shit more than it already was.”

“Yeah, but no,” Sombra sticks out her tongue. “Get a gun, old fart, we have company, and I can’t hack them all.”

“That’s your problem. I’m going after Lacroix and Ziegler.”

Jesse sits up and stuffs the paper tissue he dug out of his coat pocket up his bleeding nose.

“Well, partner, I reckon they will both be where we are actually going, so joining forces, not that bad idea.”

Jack considers the idea.

“Any of you do funny stuff, I shoot you.”

“Sheep notwithstanding, I think I like him even more now, brother.”

“Stuff it, sister.”