#yandere tracer

[outcasting101]

Yandere Spider-verse x Tracer Reader "Within In and Out" Prompt

I just finished watching "Spider-Man Across The Spider-Verse" I got this scenario after scrolling down Tumblr Spider verse Yandere *wink wink*

Now here me out imagine the possibility of having the ability of tracer and somehow involve meaningfully with every Spiderman that fits in their plot that only end up with tragedy to your end.

You coming from another Dimensional, a world that run down with a normal overwatch plot until a portal open up Earth-1610.

You simply just click with the kid, Miles was his name, his ingenuity truly one of a kind having helped you fix the dent from your chronal accelerator, or else the ship would sail away. It was basically a priceless act as this is the only thing anchoring in the present. You were indebted to the family, helping whatever it take chores big and small; they really try to avoid any task given as you are their "guest". It is rude but it didn't stop you.

You connect with the family given a "vacation off" from heroic act as there is already a sheriff in town. Sure there is an occasional save but not big enough to bring attention to yourself.

Miles father, great father, the ideal type who is really trying. You just really like it if he didn't try to stop you applying to the police officer. I mean yeah the thing strap in you chest might stand out, but it can potentially help people is you just legally sign a document, isn't that a cops job to do that.

Miles mother is sweet woman and a great cook too, you just love the Puerto Rican food. Family oriented but it didn't weigh her down from becoming a banshee when thing seem out of place. Miles. You weren't naming

Miles's uncle, you can definitely see his heart of gold especially always staying close to Miles understandingly. You just hope whatever he doing at the back, he can handle it. Miles really needs him as much as his uncle needs him. Anyways you love the graffiti they did, you got a few experiences yourself (the skin *wink wink* smoker)

"You tattletale"

You save people, that what you do, that what you always do protect people. Not the other way around.

Ever since the incident of you chronal accelerator, the group have been wary from any danger. Preventing any potential danger ever being faced upon you. The difference from your, in and out phenomenon, it is breakable to the point it will spiral out of control unlike the subdue glitch experienced by the spiders.

it is just a scratch, if it means being seen the weakest form you force it to show from a barely functional chronal accelerator. There was a crash, the villain was fast which saying something since speed is your thing, it just a slip-up. Really do they, do they really have to go far as beating the villain into a pulp, you were helpless that only momentarily before it all got fixed. But no one can really get over seeing your love on hurt, helpless of them or yourself not being able to prevent them.

[brainrotqueen]

Taking writing request!! Please give me some

Overwatch

My hero academia

Heathers

Total drama island

Fallout

And more! Check my pinned please

[mubabee]

MASTERLIST

Honkai Star Rail

Yanquing

—Yanqing being overprotective

—Y/N bumps into Blade p.1

—Y/N bumps into Blade p.2

—Y/N bumps into Blade p.3

Luocha

—Y/N tries to hide her wound

—A bit of a suggestive moment with Luocha

(NSFW) On Luocha’s lap

Dan Heng/Dan Feng

—Dan Feng licking your hand(don’t ask)

—Fluff moment with Dan Heng

Jing Yuan

—Jing Yuan licking your hand(don’t ask)

—Fluff Moment with Jing Yuan

—Jing Yuan with shy!Y/N

Blade

—Baking with child!reader

Natasha

—Genderbent Natasha

—Helping Natasha

Himeko

—Genderbent!Himeko being wary of Kafka

—Himeko hugging Y/N

—Kafka and Himeko protecting you

Kafka

—Genderbent!Himeko being wary of Kafka

—Random Kafka x reader

—Kafka and Himeko protecting you

—Random Kafka thought

—Blade baking with child!reader

Gepard

—Gepard hugging Y/N

Caelus

—Sibling Caelus

Acheron

—Genderbent Acheron

Wuthering Waves

Jiyan

—(NSFW)Jiyan between your legs

Path to Nowhere

Zoya

—Genderbent Zoya

Nightingale

—When you get hurt

Hecate

—When you get hurt

Chelsea

—Genderbent!Chelsea

Dudu

—When you get hurt

Che

—When you get hurt

Levy

—When you get hurt

Demon Slayer

Mitsuri

—Genderbent!Shinobu and Mitsuri

—Rengoku, genderbent!Mitsuri, and Inosuke

—Jealous!possessive!Mitsuri

Shinobu

—Genderbent!Shinobu and Mitsuri

Rengoku

—Rengoku, genderbent!Mitsuri, and Inosuke

Inosuke

—Rengoku, genderbent!Mitsuri, and Inosuke

—

—KNY x Reader chapter 1(no context until next chapter)

Jujustu Kaisen

Gojo

—The main trio and Gojo

—Gojo cheering up Y/N

—Bum pillows

Yuji Itadori

—Yuji x reader on Halloween

—Yuji x (Y/N)

Geto

—Geto licking your neck(what else do I write)

Spiderverse

Hobie

—Hobie and Pavitr with child!Y/N

Pavitr

—Hobie and Pavitr with child!Y/N

Yona of the Dawn

—Y/N asks Hak to teach her how to fight

Genshin Impact

Shenhe

—Genderbent!Shenhe

Alhaitham

—Sleeping with Alhaitham

Raiden Shogun

—Genderbent!Raiden Shogun

Cyno

Cyno x reader who laughs at his jokes

Baizhu

(NSFW)Baizhu eating you out

Lego Monkie Kid

MK

—MK and Y/N with short hair

—Red son, MK, and Mei with chibi!Y/N

Macaque

—Macaque being unimpressed

Red Son

—Red son, MK, and Mei with chibi!Y/N

Mei

—Red son, MK, and Mei with chibi!Y/N

Undertale/AUs

Aftertale sans

Geno

Overwatch

Tracer

Genderbent Tracer

Kill La Kill

Ryuko Matoi

—Genderbent Ryuko Matoi

#Me

—#Me characters thinking about Y/N

Danganronpa

Mikan

—Genderbent Mikan

Cookie Run Kingdom

Vanilla Cookie —Vanilla Cookie

Hazbin Hotel

—Hazbin Hotel with child!reader p.1

Welcome Home

Wally Darling

—Wally

My Little Pony

Pinkie Pie —Genderbent!human!Pinkie Pie

Sunset Shimmer

—Genderbent!human!Sunset Shimmer

My OCs (All OCs here are yandere)

Mikio

—Mikio

—More info on Mikio

Kuroko

—Kuroko

—Valentines Day with Kuroko

Arata

—Arata

—Meeting Arata for the first time

Hiroto

—Hiroto

[diejager]

A Fantasy

Pairing: YANDERE Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

Cw: NSFW, DARK, non-con, dub-con, non-con drugging, somnophilia, creampie, possessiveness, obsessiveness, breeding, marking, blood, biting, Stockholm syndrome, tell me if I missed any.

Wc: 9.8k

(A/N): FYI, Tracer’s (Overwatch 2) the reader’s mentor.

Requested by : @oyasumimosura

What stood before you was a great field of devastation and ruin, burned and broken buildings that used to be warm homes, lively parks that were turned to ashes, trees and plants laid wasted around dilapidated cars with broken windows and bent metal. People, young and old, laid motionless on the scarred ground, burnt black or left intact in a pool of their blood. Some were holding hands, a family, friends, a couple. Others were alone, forgotten, and left to their sad deaths.

One minute you were rushing through a portal, behind your mentor and besides your teammates, the Cavalry, as she liked to say. Rushing through fights to protect humanity and omnics and its future. The mission was like the one yesterday, the preparation, the meeting, the briefing, and the deployment, but the fate of it changed. A portal malfunctioned, it sent you elsewhere, far away and lost. This wasn't your world, this wasn't your universe, but now, you were in someone else's universe, playing their game.

The clock had struck and time felt meaningless on the battlefield, the sounds of beating aircraft blades, the booming shot of guns and the shockwaves of grenades were all people could hear. Soldiers were the only ones left, fighting against the other side - the enemy, the traitors, the terrorists - until one came out victorious.

While purposeful, the deaths and ruin of this Occidental village were regretful, families shattered, memories lost, and homes destroyed. All you could do was run around, trying to find the source of those cries you heard. A little girl's, whose tears welled for the mother she lost in the tirade of war.

The longer you ran, the closer you got to her. The girl's purple shirt and jeans were dirtied with soot and ash, dark from what was left of her village. You blinked, fazing through time and space to get to her more quickly. Rounding broken walls and jumping over fallen debris, you left a blue trail behind you, blinking your way to the crying kid.

You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her into your chest when you got to her, recalling to your previous position with the girl, behind a brick wall. She clung to you, eyes red and swollen, lips bit red and her cheeks puffy. She looked like a seven-year-old child, alone, lost, and miserable without her parents or protection.

"Don't worry, love, " you used the words Tracer often used when she saved someone, her reassuring and calm voice. "I'm here."

Those zigzagging lines of light lingered in his mind, a shadow of a woman making her way through the abandoned town. The spring in her steps and the flexibility of her movements, jumping higher than any man should've been able to and changing directions so easily. She was fast, vanishing in a line of blue light and then appearing once more meters away.

Ghost saw her save a child, no older than an eight-year-old - or so he thought. A lone child on the battlefield was dangerous, a death wish for the kid if his enemies got to her first. Fortunately, the athletic woman got to the kid before anyone could, swiping her into her arms and disappearing in a blink. Seconds ago, she stood next to the pole, now all that was left was a blur of blue. She had disappeared as quickly as she appeared.

He picked at the memory constantly, powers, it seemed, were her thing, speed and agility of which no one should be able to wield, but she did and she used it to save a child. Although he admired that from a stranger, the question of her being a danger to them was still left unanswered. Whether she could be trusted or an unknown enemy that would tip the scales in the enemy's favour.

However, months later, after the war ended, there weren't any sightings of her, anywhere on earth, as if she had disappeared - again. He remembered her, though, the determined glint beneath blue goggles, her hair tied in a ponytail, flowing through the air, and her pretty lips.

She could still be in Europe, she probably was, or so he hoped. It would mean that he could run the chance of meeting her, to quench his gnawing curiosity. It would be difficult - near impossible - to find her in the millions living in Europe, but he would keep his eyes open, he had questions and he wanted answers.

He wasn't a believer per se, nor was he an atheist, he had a veto in what he put his trust and belief in. He wouldn't curse others for not believing in a God or gods, he wouldn't scoff at those who believed in them, and everyone had their rights. At this moment, however, the thought of God helping him had crossed his mind.

He had dared cross his limit, entering a small cafe - or a bistro, he wasn't sure - blocks from his flat. It was small and homely, the air was warm with the smell of coffee and tea and the place welcoming with the smiling faces of the cafe's workers.

He sat far into the shop, his back against the softness of the booth's couch, bored eyes observing his surrounding for any danger. Even off duty, the habits that ensured his safety still stuck to him, following him wherever he went.

The waitress, a young-looking woman, with striking eyes and hair pulled in a bun, walked his way. Her face looked familiar, lashes framing her pretty eyes, blushed cheeks and beautiful full lips. He knew those lips, and those eyes, and her build, short and athletic, but strong.

It was the child-saving vigilante he saw, only without her blue goggles and her tight bodysuit, blue and white that emphasized her muscles (it was probably made for usefulness, sticking to her body without any stray cloth when she ran, it made running faster and easier.). Wearing a chemise and black pants, instead of the standard skirt the other women wore, her shoes clicked as she approached him, hand pulling out a pad from her black apron's pocket.

He froze when her hand disappeared into her pocket, the items inside were unknown to him, and the content could be dangerous to him. He had to remind himself that she was a civilian at the moment, not an enemy vying for his head. She was safe, as long as she didn't attack him. He waited for her to speak, her pretty lips forming the words she wanted to tell him.

"Good morning, sir," her voice was melodic, soft and inviting. He craved hearing her speak to him with the soft lull of her tone. "Have you decided?"

Decided? What had she - you - meant by "decided"? Then he remembered he was in a cafe, people walked in to order food and drinks, to go or to eat there. He couldn't drift off like that, he couldn't disappear into the darkest depth of his mind. It was a dangerous place.

He cleared his throat, blonde lashes fluttering as he blinked, staring at your face. You were pretty. His words rumbled out, slightly muffled by his black mask: "No." He neither spoke more nor less, blunt as a hammer and sharp as a knife.

"Would you like more time to decide?" You were polite, smiling at him although his only spoken words were brash. He didn't want you to go yet, he just found you, heard and spoke to you,

"Anything you- uh... you recommend?"

You perked up at his question, seeing a more approachable change in him. Your smile widened, brighter than before as you listed off the menu by heart. Your optimism reminded him of Johnny's, expressively happy and grinning. The cafe - Ma's cafe, he learned from you - had its famously brewed tea latte, a mixture of earl grey and vanilla latte.

He took your recommendation, and you left with a skip, apron bouncing with each step. He watched you walk behind the counter, shuffling around with cups and the machine - he thought it was a coffee machine, those with pre-made coffee in its tank - meticulously, knowing well what he ordered.

You came back minutes later with a smoking mug filled with a milky brown liquid. It was fitting its name - London fog - with the white swirls that mimicked the fog that filled the cool, morning air until early evening when the sun started heating everything.

"Thank you...?" Ghost tried, wanting to know your name, you didn't have a tag on your apron.

You gave him your name with the smile you gave everyone, a customer service kind of smile that would assure that you wouldn't get any complaints about your service. He repeated your name a few times in his mind, memorizing every syllable and the way it sounded so well.

He wanted to repeat your name, whisper it lowly, but he had to make sure you were farther away from him, or you'd hear him obsessively call you. It rolled off his tongue amazingly, a perfect symphony with his deeper, raspy voice. He'll get to know you better, he planned on visiting more often, to learn your schedule and watch over you.

He pushed every intrusive thought back, bringing the mug to his lips (he had pulled down his mask to drink). It was sweet, slightly bitter from the coffee, but sweet nonetheless, perhaps a bit too sugary. He savoured the drink you made him, breathing the warm aroma of your mix. You'd made it, you had it, and served it. It was made for him, with your care and smile.

Ghost came by the next week, wearing the same black hoodie and dark jeans. He sat at the same booth and waited for you to walk by with the same smile as the prior week. You did, eyes wide with recognition when you caught him staring at you from the corner booth. You made your way to him with a grin, clad in a similar uniform and a serving tray under your arm.

"You came back," your calming voice reached his ears, giving him something to cling to in the cafe.

He liked habits, familiar things and usual occasions, but he hated the new and the unknown. They were dangerous, and deadly in his line of work. You expressed your gratitude at the tip he left you, way over the usual price other usual clients would.

"I never got your name."

He hadn't given you his name? That's right, he didn't for fear of people finding out his true identity, a broken man hidden under the mask of a monster - a Ghost. Trust issues stacked with insecurities and his introverted tendencies had made forming relationships much harder, making friends complicated with the backlash of his many blunt comments and irritated huffs, and letting people in from the fear of being betrayed, backstabbed, beaten and abandoned.

You were a vigilante, you saved a girl, you smiled at him and greeted him like you would a friend. You didn't shy away, nor freeze at the mere sight of him. You were new, but you were good - or so he thought you were. To him, you could be the achieved unachievable, a friend made from dust, a relationship formed from miracles and normalcy.

He blinked, mumbling lowly his name, low enough that it only reached your ears. You cocked your head downward, your smile widening as you repeated his name.

"Nice to see you again, Simon. I'm happy to see you again."

He nearly shuddered from hearing his name roll off your tongue, so melodically spoken. He wants to hear you call his name again and again and again, as many times as you could until he got sick of it (he probably wouldn't, he was already addicted to the way you spoke).

He dozed at your words, that you were glad he came back. He was glad too. He wanted to come by the day after his first visit, but it would seem too strange, perhaps dangerous to see him every day at the same spot, at the same time of day. He was a man of schedules, organized and neat planning.

He figured he would start by buying once a week for a month or two, then change it to twice a week for the following months, until seeing him every day would become the norm for you. He would kickstart the routine and make it a usual appearance in your life. He would make *him* a usual appearance in your life.

"Same as last time, Simon?"

God, he loved hearing you say his name. He simply nodded, he would make it his usual, a hut sweet, but enough to drown the bitterness in his soul.

The leaves turned darker, shrivelling and dropping dead to the ground. The mellow sky grew gloomy, and colder with each passing day until it dropped so low that Ghost had to wear a thicker jacket over his usual hoodie. Autumn was at an end and winter crawled ever so closer.

He was back from deployment, on a temporary leave to "relax and diffuse" as Laswell said. Everyone was back home, Price with his cigar and Nik, Gaz back home with his girlfriend, Soap with his rowdy family of seven and Roach went home to open arms and warm welcomes from his parents.

Ghost only had an empty apartment - or he used to, he moved to a house on the quieter side of town - and the cute, dazzling waitress that served at Ma's cafe. That's where he was going, he texted you before he left, letting you know that he was back and ready for a hot cup of London fog and brunch.

You read his message, replying with a "Copy that, Lieutenant". It became a running joke between you after he told you about his work, nothing classified or too detailed, but enough to let you know he was built to fight and survive.

The bell rang when he pushed the door, seeing you peer out of the kitchen once he stepped in. He was hit with a warm embrace, the cafe's heater worked well, warming the place and making it cozy enough to eat with only a t-shirt on. He gave you a nod, finding his way to his usual spot, the one he sat at for the past months.

How many months have passed since he first stumbled here? He couldn't remember everything became a blur when it was associated with you. His moments with you were warmer and calmer than at the start. You opened up to him, walls crumbling down and letting yourself build something out of it: a friendship with Ghost.

He liked being friends - for now. He had plans to make a move, to push farther, into unknown territory and try his luck. He had a feeling you'd say yes, he loved you so much and you showered him with adoration and smiles, you had to be in love with him, no? Of course, you were, he wasn't delusional, he was of sound mind, careful.

"Welcome back, Simon," you strut to him so casually, the same clothes, the same smile. "How was your deployment? Soap and Roach got into any trouble?"

He spoke fondly of his TF, they were his family, and he felt proud when he talked about them to you. He invited them once, and they all loved you as much as he did, you were sociable and easy to talk to. Though Price and Soap had the biggest effect on you, they reminded you of someone. You told him about your friends, chaotic like his TF, but a family. It sounded like an ops team, he wouldn't be surprised. He remembered the first time he saw you, it was still fresh in his memory.

"Soap stirred up some shite again," Ghost huffed, sloshing his shoulders to appear more relaxed in your presence, to make him seem less threatening than he was. "No casualties, everyone made it out fine. Bit bruised but alive."

"That's the main objective, no?" You chuckled at Ghost's indignified groans about Soap and Roach behaving like children high on sugar.

You stuck around longer now, gracing him with a bit of random chatter. He got to know about your days, your activities, your wishful thinking and your goals. He discovered something new every day, whether it came from your lips or from his own time.

You stood by his table until the chef rang the call bell. You winked charmingly and turned to get his order, he hadn't ordered yet, but he came by so often, ordering the same that the employees knew what to make when he walked through the door.

He liked the normalcy, where he came by once every two days when he was on leave. If the Task Force was sent on a mission, he could be gone a few days, a few weeks or a month. It always varied, but he made it work with his hate of the unknown, the unpredictable.

"Are you free tonight, love?" Ghost asked, eyes gazing from your hands to your lips.

He found that open-mouthed expression at his question. You seemed hesitant to answer him, thinking about your reply to the man who tipped you well and was as close as a friend to you; or perhaps you were simply shocked that he finally asked you out, and wondering if you had time for him.

You nodded, a smug smile replacing your shock: "How 'bout eight? I finish at seven tonight."

" 'S fine, eight at the bar down the street?"

"It's a date then."

His heart almost broke his ribs, beating wildly against its cage when the word "date" left your lips. He had a date with you tonight, he couldn't believe his ears. Perhaps you meant as a date between friends than one between lovers, but at that moment, all he could think was how your hands would feel between his, how your soft, plump lips would feel over his and how your body would feel against his, below and over him.

He dove into his delusional mind, imagines and dreams swimming freely, jumping from one to the other. He had dreams for once, a wish that he hoped you'd indulge, and a family he wanted but lost.

Everything seemed to go the way he planned, you waved at him when you saw him waiting outside the bar and giddily joined him. He found a quiet and mellow corner at the bar, a table pushed against the wall with two stools.

The bartenders knew him, he drank here with the others, and they didn't bother him and served and usual. Some were surprised he brought a friend - a woman - with him but left him to his own.

You sat down and downed a few beers while he drank his bourbon. You spoke sporadically, hands waving enthusiastically with every word. Your cheeks were flushed, slightly pink and warm from the alcohol, but you were lively, animated and happy.

It made him happy, seeing you so mirthful around him, being able to let loose from your stricter atmosphere at Ma's cafe. Your tense shoulders were looser, your back relaxed from its ramrod-straight position and your voice felt more invigorated. The alcohol might've played a part, running through your system and making you bolder.

The first time always played well, just as he imagined, and the thing that solidified everything was your parting words: "Next time's on me, Simon!"

You drank together every week, from friends to drinking buddies, there was nothing more intimate than that, to trust someone with your drunk self and your loose tongue, spewing words and thoughts the second they crossed your mind.

That boosted his confidence, the feeling that he could confess, and tell you his deepest and darkest thoughts and wants. You'd know what kind of man he was, broken and messily put together, like a DIY project made by a child gone wrong. He had sharp edges and missing pieces, a cracked personality and dangerous thoughts. He was a SAS soldier after all, once you become one, you see some twisted shit.

Like the week before, you walked out together, your legs shaky but still able to walk home, accompanied by Ghost. He helped you to your apartment, his broad shadow looming over the door, silent as always. When your shaky hands were able to unlock the door, turning the knob and opening the door, you turned around to bid your drinking buddy good night.

Lips parting to say the words, until he cut you off, his chapped lips met yours. His gloved hands caressed your cheek, thumb rubbing under your wide eyes as he held you in place. His lips were warm and plump, but chapped, a scar running over it.

His eyes were closed, lips on you for a few seconds longer until he pulled away, a dazed look in his eyes. While he expected a reaction from you, he hadn't envisioned shock and sadness, one that made his gut plummet. He winced at your expression, unable to understand what he did wrong. He thought you loved him.

"I- Simon, I- I can't, I'm sorry," you hushed out sadly, head turned down to stare at your feet. You were unwilling to gaze into his disappointed - probably heartbroken - eyes.

"Why?" He rasped, voice hoarse as if he hid cried for hours, or was on the brink of tearing up.

"I just can't, Simon," you persisted, feeling much more sober than the last few minutes. His surprise had severed you up - willingly or unwillingly. "I don't mind staying friends, but I can't get too attached. I won't be here much longer."

" 'Cause you're not from here?" He scoffed, but it didn't hold any resentment or irritation, simply sorrow and distress. " 'Cause you're from another world?"

You whipped your head to stare at him, your mouth agape and fearful shock glazed over your eyes. How could he have possibly known? While your identity was fabricated work, you know how to make a believable fake ID, Genji's knowledge helped you. You stepped back, hand reaching for your door knob, unsure of what Simon would do to you now that the secret was out.

He turned and ambled out, shoulders slumped slightly without a word to you. His world shattered once again, God seemed hellbent on making his life a misery.

He stopped coming after your "altercation", you felt horrible, but you couldn't let your heart run wild when you know Winston would find a way to fix the portal in a year or two. One had already passed and you couldn't overindulge in this world's pleasures and leave when you got too attached.

Yet, grief at being relieved that he never appeared again clawed at you, he knew you weren't from his world. It was dangerous information, especially in bad hands, but you couldn't do anything about it. This world had different rules and standards, it worked differently and you weren't book-smart like Winston or Torb. You were a simple agent working under Tracer.

You did, however, regret letting Simon leave so abruptly, he was an amazing friend, the perfect drinking buddy and would probably be a caring lover, but couldn't risk it. Even if you wanted to text him, and apologize over and over until Simon would talk to you again, you knew how to respect people's boundaries. If he left so coldly, never passing by, texting or calling told you enough. He needed time to calm down and clear his mind.

You went back and forth between your home and the cafe every night, your original routine - before meeting Simon - felt alien to you. You'd been so used to seeing Simon at the back of the shop, a hot London fog in his hands and crepes on his plate with melting butter. It was foreign to see the spot occupied by another client, or the cold spot in your chest when it was vacant.

You disliked it. You hated it. The cold, the silence, you wanted to see him at least once.

Can we meet? Usual place. was the sudden text you received from Simon during your shift. It was dated today at 5:39.

Without a second thought, you replied, affirming the date and time, tonight, right after your shift on Friday. A weight was lifted from your shoulder, the silence from Simon was broken and he finally reached out to you. Your break to let him calm down had worked it seemed, the let him cool down and clear his mind.

It was late by the time you got to the pub, around nine. You had returned home and fixed up your depressed look for a more lively one, hoping it would make Simon feel better. You caught him at your usual place, head hung low and demeanour shut off from the world around him. You took hesitant steps towards him, he didn't look exactly sober from the number of cups decorating the table, nor did he look drunk, from his sharp, hooded eyes.

"Simon, " you greeted him slowly, nearly flinching when his brown eyes washed over your smaller figure. Chills erupted through the ends of your nerves, fingers twitching at the sudden burst of danger you felt from your friend. You had no reason to be scared, wary of his demeanour, but not scared or hateful. He'd yet to act out violently or malevolently.

He gave a curt nod, emotions bleeding through his eyes. He was a stoic man, but his eyes were extremely emotional, pain, regret, grief, hate and joy were some you'd seen flash in those pretty brown of his.

He had a whole bottle ordered in advance, the cap still tightly screwed onto the bottle's neck. He poured you a cup, of rum straight out of the bottle without ice or any accessories.

Thanking him, you sipped on your drink it felt hot and heady on your tongue, it burned your throat. You hadn't drank since you'd last seen Simon, weeks ago, and you could see - feel - its effect. You coughed slightly but still downed the rest.

"You wanted to see me?" Your question left an odd sensation on your tongue. He hadn't spoken a word since you walked in, always the brooding, silent menace. He stared, fixated on you or something on you, it was perturbed you.

"I wanted to apologize, love."

You missed that low hum in his voice, and the caring way he said you "love". You'd been used to it since most British you knew always called someone they cared for "love" or "dear", loving terms of endearment used publicly. Now, however, you knew it weighted, an undertone to its meaning, a special significance in his heart.

"Didn't mean to jump you like that," he continued, regret painting his rough tone. "It felt right; to me. Guess I was more plastered than I thought."

He was human and alcohol coursed through his system. It made him bold and erratic, he acted out without a second thought. You could forgive him for the influence his bourbon had on him; you were going to forgive him anyway.

Although you felt better with his apology, forgiveness for his sudden move wasn't what you prioritized. You wanted answers. How did he know? Was it a sudden, incomprehensible blurb that he spat in a spike of hate and pain? Or was it conscience wording from his drunk mind?

"Do you remember that night?" You lost your smile, pursed lips and hardened eyes at your questioning - interrogation of him.

"'Course I do."

"Do you remember what you said? About me coming from somewhere else."

He nodded, eyes levelled to stare straight at you, unwilling to hide or lie, he spoke honestly, "Another world, love. Didn't forget."

"How'd you know? I'm not exactly showcasing it to everyone in bright colours. So how?"

"Saw you save that girl, lil babe crying for her mother," his answer was slow and purposeful, giving you what you wanted to hear. He recalled the event that occurred months prior, everything aligned with your own experience. "We don't - can't - have shite like that, too developed and powerful. Nothin' like that's possible in this era. So I figured you weren't from here. "

His reasoning made sense, his wording was careful, and it seemed like he had time to think about it. The time you gave him had helped. You kept your doubts to yourself, questions you had that he probably didn't have the answer to. A way back; a way home; an escape. All things he had no answer to.

So your shoulders relaxed and asked Simon to pour you a second cup, to which he obliged. You drank and smiled, back to the trying times when you just started drinking with him, the unknown and the awkwardness that lingered in the air stung.

You don't remember how many cups you had, or how many bottles you finished. Did you even finish the first one? Did you get halfway through before your vision started blurring and your mind dazed into mumbles of incoherent words? Simon hadn't touched another cup since the world around you blurred, the corners of your eyes turning black and your movement slowed to a slur.

He paid for the drink on his tab, slinging your arm over his shoulder, hand holding your waist as he walked out. You were drunk out of your mind, but something felt different, you don't remember being this inebriated the last time you drank half a bottle of rum. Was there something else in it?

Simon dropped you in the back, buckling you in before he made sure you sat upright. He was close, his neck bare and sweaty, his musk smelled strong and heavy, smoke and gunpowder weighing at the back of your throat. Although your vision was faulty, you could see the tight muscle of his neck and shoulder tense as he worked.

His scent stuck to you as he closed the door and drove home, the air in the car smelling like him. Whatever had drained you, lulled you to sleep, taking comfort in the familiar warmth even if a small part of you started panicking.

He had you, in the basement of his house, soundproof and padlocked from the outside. Any risk was accounted for and any escape plans were foiled prematurely by his quick mind.

Ghost laid you beneath him, on the soft, plush bed he bought and built for you, queen-sized for the times he'd spend cuddling you. He had you splayed, body limp and limbs pliant to his every desire. He admired your sleeping form, how your lace fluttered lightly and your lips perked, thinking on the corners as if you were wincing - a duck face - and your peaceful expression. You were adorable.

Your shirt came off first, pulled over your head and thrown over his shoulders, then your bra. Without his gloves, your skin felt soft, hot to the touch. Kneading your breasts, he held one in each hand and felt the fat. You twitched and mewled faintly when he pinched your nipples, hardened by the cooler air hitting your drunk-induced heat. He kissed them, lips closing around your nipple and sucking loudly. He gave each one the same amount of attention, pulling off with a wet pop.

His fingers trailed the lines of your abdomen, strong and athletic, but not too burly like anyone in the army. He admired your figure, half-naked and unconscious on his bed, in his home. He kissed down your stomach as he took your pants off, sliding leg after leg out, leaving you only in your panties.

You were beautiful: your skin - soft, your hair - silken, your lips - wonderful to kiss, and your eyes - gems. You were breathtaking to look at, a treasure to his eyes solely. You were an unblemished canvas, unmarked by other men - in his mind - by sin, and your scars were trophies, won through difficult times. He wanted to be the one painting you, displaying you prettily for his eyes alone. Pieces of works were kept secret like Michelangelo's love poems and sketches.

His eyes wandered the expanse of your body, groaning when he saw the wet patch, your body had reacted to his caresses, your arousal turning the spot over your cunt darker, wet. He pushed his nose to it, breathing in the tangy musk. His fingers hooked under the string and ripped it off with a harsh tug. You wouldn't need underwear anymore once he was done with you.

Ghost's pupils dilated, wide, blown eyes as it keyed on your slick cunt. He adjusted your legs, moving them over his shoulders to have better access to you. He gave a testing lap, running the flat of his tongue over your rim, prodding your clenching opening and leaving at your pulsating clit.

You tasted delicious, he growled and dove back. Tongue circling your button, sucking loudly, lifting the protective hood to let it swell and throb. He held your hips tightly ad you squirmed and moaned, but you never awoke. The drug he gave you was potent, tested on bigger, stronger military men. It could knock them out, so it would pull a stronger reaction from you.

It weighed on his mind, that he resolved to drugging you and bringing you home to be able to show you just how much he loved you. He'd preferred if you were awake, he wanted your first time together to be wonderful - fantastic - in all ways, but you would've protested, fought him and left him once more. He couldn't risk losing you completely, it hurt.

He had no other choice and felt guilty, but he couldn't let his mind wander when he had you under him, ripe for the taking. He pushed his thoughts away and concentrated on you, his needy girl.

His tongue returned between your leg, cheek nuzzling into your sweating thighs. He alternated between sucking your button, lips enclosing around it, and dipping his tongue into you, groaning anomalistically at your tensing walls. He pushed his forefinger in, joining his ravenous tongue. His nose bumped your clit, jerking you each time.

A second finger joined the first and his tongue left to give attention to your neglected clit, pumping to the third knuckles and curling upwards. You arched off the bed, hips buckling into his open mouth as he stretched you open with a third finger. The sound was lewd and wet, loud in his ears.

His cock twitched, straining against his pants, the fabric tight and inflexible, nearly painful. He wanted to relieve the tightness, that burning ache deep in his guts, but his needs came second to yours.

He flickered his tongue and pushed his fingers deeper, curling and panting against you. You spasmed, legs closing around his head, squeezing him as you came. His fingers eased out slowly to savour the taste of your arousal, mouth covering your fluttering hole and slurping the slick that drizzled down your ass.

He loved how you tasted, sweet and salty, like a healthy, ripe fruit ready to be bitten into, juicy and perfect. He almost lost himself, dazed by your essence and his anguish; if only you'd accepted him early, you would've been awake and conscious of this act, and you'd be able to love and embrace him as he did to you. He wouldn't have to wait so long, in pain and regret, for not wooing you enough. He wouldn't have to feel so guilty.

Snapping from his hazed thinking, he lowered your legs and climbed off the bed to undress. He peeled his hoodie and shirt, which stuck to his skin by sweat, and he dropped his pants once he unbuckled his belt. His cock bobbed, slapping wetly against his navel before it hung heavily between his legs, the head achingly red and swollen. His balls felt heavy, and tight from all the neglect. They were big and full, ready to pump his seed into you.

He cradled you, pulling your legs over his elbows and slotting his hips to yours, his cock over your slit. He moved his hips, slicking his shaft with your juices, groaning at the wet warmth under him. When it felt slick enough, he dipped the tip in, your labia stretching to swallow his uncut head. The sound was downright filthy in his ears, the squelch and your strained moans.

He watched himself inch deeper, sinking into your depths with unrelenting hunger, panting and growling until he bottomed out, his balls sitting snug against your ass. His bulbous tip kissed your cervix, nudging it as he rolled his hips, testing how deep he could reach and how strong he could fuck.

He slowly pulled out, hearing the wet noise of his cock slipping out to the tip, and slammed in, his balls slapping the roundness of your ass. He rocked wildly, groaning each time he bottomed out, feeling the heat of your walls clench around him like a vice. Your spasming walls wrenched low moans from him, as often as you whimpered and mewled.

"Fuck- you feel so fuckin' good-" he pushed out through his clenched teeth, his cock twitching when you tightened around him.

Your legs shook, your back arching slightly and your voice keening loudly. He covered your body with his, lips meeting yours in a hungry and possessive kiss, tongue diving into your mouth and committing it to memory. His hand found your clit, thumb rubbing your sensitive nub, urging you towards your end.

Keening, you came, gripping him with a vice. He grunted, his pace becoming sloppy as he chased his peak after yours, breathing in your neck with dazed, hooded eyes. He swore, thrusting as deep as he could and came, his seed rushing to fill you.

"Fuck- fuck-" he gasped, rocking a few times into you, riding off his edge until he calmed down.

White globs leaked from your stuffed cunt, rolling down your ass and leaving a trail. His chest rumbled happily, bending down to kiss you slowly, soft and adoring compared to the last. He slid out when he softened, his cum oozing out of your gaping heat, the plug keeping everything in left.

He loved watching you full, oozing of him, asleep and satiated in the bed he bought for you. You were both coated in sweat and cum, hair sticking to your glistening skin. Your dishevelled and panting aroused him, his soft cock jerking upwards, hardening moments after he just came.

"We're not done yet, love."

You felt heavy and warm, a heat - a body - held you tightly, fingers carding through your hair and caressing your back. It smelled like sweat and smoke, a familiar musk. You opened your eyes, seeing a pale, burly chest, Simon's naked chest. You froze, body tensing, shoulders squaring and arms ready to push him back.

"Morning, love," his voice was raspy with sleep, deep and calm as he greeted you, his lips meeting your hairline. "Slept well?"

You frowned, legs moving, jutting out from between his knees as you struggled to free yourself. Your body felt sore, the peak of your discomfort coming from your heat, a pulsating and warm pain. You feared the worst.

When you looked down, you were covered by only a shirt, a big, dark grey t-shirt that smelled like Simon, it reached your knees. You winced, seeing your nakedness and Simon's pants hanging low on his hips, flashing the sharp dip of his navel and his sculpted torso. It left little to imagine, the red blemishes on your neck and shoulders, slightly faded from his careful handling and bruises the size of his fingers around your thighs.

"You-" you coughed before you could day anymore, throat dry and scratchy, alcohol dehydrated people faster.

"Drink," he held you up, back to his chest, arms slipping around you too comfortably to hand you a cup of water, cool and fresh.

He had expected this, he wasn't as delusional as he first seemed, and he was prepared. You took it, gulping it down carefully, counting the seconds - minutes - that would pass until the drug kicked in, if he had diluted any in your water.

He hummed happily, his chest vibrating as he wrapped his arms around you, nosing the collar of your neck, he placed fluttering kisses on your open shoulder. The collar of his shirt slipped from one side, exposing your skin. His teeth grazed you, teasingly nipping you with warm puffs of air.

You gulped, gathering whatever wits you still had after this whole kidnapping situation. Your mind was running miles per second, eyes gleamed over with tensions and tiredness, and your body sore from Simon's perverse affection.

"Where am I?" your voice was small, still raspy from - what you assumed - moaning and mewling.

"Home," he mumbled, latching onto your skin and sucking a dark spot.

Home? It neither meant your flat nor safety. It was *his* home, a prison he built for you. You looked around. You thought it better to get to know the place he decided to keep you captive, to learn and discover its secrets, anything you could use against or for you.

It was like a studio apartment, everything was open apart from the bathroom, it had a small kitchenette with a fridge (probably in case he left for a while, deployed in another country while he kept you here.), a bookshelf filled to the brim with books and a desk pushed to the side. He'd forgone leaving you with a television, a mobile device, a phone or a computer, all were risks of you getting out.

The walls were painted over, bare of windows and stairs lead to a door, locked from both sides. He locked you in his basement, beneath his house and every other neighbour's nose. No one would come to your rescue if you screamed. No one would hear your cries of anguish or your pleas for freedom.

He bit down, teeth pressing onto your skin, denting the scarred flesh with his teeth marks. You yelped, the area hot and painful, his strength leaving an almost skin-deep bleeding, fiery and red. It was irritated and swelled in seconds. He moved from one patch to the other, determined to mark up your shoulder before possibly moving on to the next one.

You squirmed on his lap, trying to free yourself from his restrictive hold. You gripped his hands, digging your blunt nails into his forearms. He scoffed, nuzzling the bites he made, tongue lapping at the bleeding lines.

"Ghost," you gasped, legs kicking and body struggling.

Clicking followed every kick, the distinct sound of metal rattling in a disorderly way. You looked down your leg, catching the cuff around your right ankle, a long chain kept you jailed in the basement. It was long and winding, enough to comfortably walk laps around your new accommodation but too short to reach the door.

You stared at it incredulously, the utter rage and disgust that burned in your gut that he planned to keep you as if you were a glorified pet or some sort of prize he scouted and obtained.

You knew he liked you before, it was a simple and innocent crush, like finding your first one and not knowing how to react. That, and the fact he was a soldier, scarred by time and marked by warfare made him so standoffish. You thought it was simple, but now, it was too late to forget, to not look, to let bygones be bygones.

He was obsessed, not necessarily sane, but not crazy either. He wasn't delusional, by everything he set up as a precaution, but he let his darkness fester, grow and crack the surface of his calm and stoic persona. He was still calm and meticulous, but it was a different kind, storming ideas for your imprisonment and wishes he wanted to make true. Ghost and Simon overlapped, neither good nor evil, he was simply letting the monster rage uncontrolled.

His pent-up emotions drove him to the edge, and your rejection pushed him over, tipping the scale of his sanity. That's how you ended up in your current situation, his hands wandering over your thighs, dipping between them and down to your knees. He still nipped at your skin, biting and pulling the collar down the other shoulder. His teeth sunk into the muscle between your neck and shoulder, warm fingers slipping under his shirt to knead your chest.

You winced, flinching when he plucked your nipples, pulling on them until you let out a pained whine.

"Stop-!" your hands followed his, clamping around his wrists and dragging him out, but he stayed firm, unmoving to your will as he twirled your mounds. "Fucking stop!"

He huffed, hands dropping to your lap. He mumbled into your bitten skin, groaning in complaints about not letting him care for you. His complaints came with hot breaths on your nape, mouthing the back, turning silent and unmoving.

His quietness was familiar to you, his penchant for sifting through his thoughts in utter silence. Then he moved, draping the covers over your body, tucking you in. He stood at your bedside, expression lighting in a gentle smile. Under the dim lighting of the room, he looked like a beautiful angel. A gold halo hovered over his blonde locks, framing his pale skin and warm, brown eyes.

He kissed your forehead, lips lingering a few seconds longer as he took in the calming moment. He had you, he had you in his home.

"How about breakfast? Fried eggs and bangers, how's that sound?"

The normalcy of eating breakfast in bed, to wake up and be greeted with a British breakfast made by Simon. He liked the idea of such normality, it was romantic, domestic even. To be able to cook for you and serve you the food he made, he'd eat at the table in the middle of the room, seated opposite from you.

He left before you could give him a piece of your mind, or your reply to his question. Fried eggs, you knew what that was, but *bangers*, what the fuck was that?

The stairs creaked lightly, bending under Simon's weight, but his steps were silent - dangerous. The lock clicked when it was unlocked, and he left you alone, the door locking behind him. Gone was your escape, gone was your freedom, gone was your life with the door locking before you.

Time seemed endless, it went by in a blink or in long, painful moments that left you angry. He hadn't given you a clock, and without anything technological (the microwave didn't have the time, whatever Simon had done, worked. Time never played on the four-letter screen.), you couldn't tell day from night, seconds from minutes and minutes from hours. Time dragged agonizingly slowly, the only clue was Simon kept a pattern: three meals a day, breakfast, dinner and supper before going to bed with his arms wrapped around you.

How long you've stayed here was unknown. You couldn't know and Simon didn't want to tell you. He changed subjects or glared at you until you dropped it or he decided to drop it. You had no link to the outside, no way of knowing if you'd been announced missing or if anyone was worried. Simon had cut all your connections to the world around you, just outside your reach, on the other side of these walls that confined you.

You desperately needed to know about your case, if they knew, if they filed a missing person report if they were searching for you. It pained you to be ignorant of everything but your small world, the things that happened in your small room. Everything you knew was Simon.

His horribly, soothing words in his deep voice, speaking into your ear or your hair, whispering his dreams and his hopes, his love and his adoration. His wandering hands, raking the tension from your shoulders, the knots in your back, your worry from your eyes and lips, and the pleasure - forced - he brought upon you.

Entertainment was brought through him, or through the books he left for you, most were erudite, both old and new novels. Bram Stoker's Dracula, The Silence of the Lambs and The Heart of Darkness were a few of the novels you'd caught on the bookshelf.

He also fed you. Most days, he'd stay until it was time to eat, he would leave - sometimes half an hour or a whole hour, it ranged between depending on the meal - and come back with warm plates. They always smelled good and they tasted better.

It surprised you how skilled he was in cocking, as he was in infiltration, sniping, abducting and killing. Perhaps he took the time apart from you to forge his plan, to learn to cook and to care.

You ate, slowly and contemplatively. He stared at you eat, always making sure you took the first bites before digging into his own plate. It weighed heavy in your gut, like a reluctant gift you were bestowed, and Simon made sure you ate everything.

You felt dazed, gone, after eating, as if a cloud washed over your mind that made you slower, and sluggish with everything you did. The food was drugged, you were aware of that when you first felt lethargic. It made you less testy, less bratty as Simon grumbled, you were more pliant to his whims and easier to move when you tried fighting him.

Though it eased the nausea that wracked your body in the mornings, the sudden discomfort in your abdomen and the heaviness that the ache gave. You rarely needed to move from the bed if the urge to vomit came up, Simon kept pills for that. If you did, he'd comfort you, holding your hair back as the content of your stomach surged upwards.

Your time spent with Simon was time spent organizing your thoughts, Winston was smart, engineering-wise, he was amazing. Then there was Mercy with her medical breakthrough and Torb with his ingeniously brilliant machines. If they came together, found what went wrong with the portal you went through.

Trace would be so worried if she wasn't already dead worried. She was a caring and responsible mentor, taking you in before and after the fall of Overwatch. Nearly twelve years under her and this was the first mishap. You spent nearly two years in Simon's world - you counted the time your could count, the days you spent working and enjoying life as much as you could in a different place - and your heart never stopped missing your family.

You missed Jack - Soldier: 76 - when he would openly laugh, and Gabriel, when he was still the man he was. You missed Tracer's fussing, blinking around with so much energy, and Reinhardt's proud standard when he loomed over his teammates with his Barrier Field. You missed them horribly, they were the glue that kept you hoping for freedom.

It happened when you nearly conceded to Simon's whims, bending to his will and words, letting his hands wander your body and feeling pleasure - genuine. His confessions were parroted, and his I love youwas returned.

You ate less, however, the lump in your gut grew by the days, weighing heavier and heavier. You had weird cravings, followed by nausea most mornings, gripping the toilet bowl with your head hung low. Simon held your hair back and rubbed soothing circles on your back, bemoaning about your pains and cramps.

He left a few times during your period of captivity, vanishing for long periods - usually a week or two - and had you manage everything on your own. He had cameras set up, watching your every move, connected to whatever device he decided to watch you.

He was deployed a week ago, his steps never walking to the door during the week, but now, you could hear his booming steps around the house. They were loud and intentional. Dread always filled your body when you learned he came back, he was clingy, handsy and obsessive when he came back, growling that he would burn down the world if couldn't have you; or that he was thinking about you - constantly - and that the video feed on his phone was never enough.

You picked up on his pace, hurried and panicked. They stomped around the house in search of something before it stopped at your door. Your ears perked on the clicking of the lock, straining to listen to his heaving breaths.

Crack

You jerked forward. Something behind you cracked, the loud cracking filled the air as you turned. A blue swirl cracked the shift in reality, like glass fracturing and breaking into pieces, it glowed with every line. It pulsed calmly, the swirls capturing your attention. You felt drawn to it, your hands twitching with the urge to touch it, to let your fingers swim in the infinite pool.

"(Name), are you there?" a voice called from the other side, small and feminine. It was dripping with worry and exhaustion. "Luv, are you there?" she cried a second time, a hand emerging from the portal.

You knew the voice, the warm, familiar voice that called out to you with love and compassion. A friend. A mentor. A family.

You reached out to it, hand inches from hers. Then the door to your cage burst open, his screams echoing in the basement. He hurried down the stairs as fast as he could, mask still on his face as he reached for you. His gloved fingers grasped the air for you, rushing towards you with immense worry and fear in his eyes.

Mere seconds behind you, his fingers grazed your back as you fell into the waiting arms of your mentor. He was too late, he fell on the vacant bed, watching the portal close behind you. He clutched the bending, the place you sat moments ago. It was still warm, your heat and smell still mixed into your sheets.

He spun lies about your absence, about your sudden disappearance from his world. You moved away after your breakup, you distanced yourself from him to make the move easier on your heart and his. The TF had accepted the excuse, solemnly nodding about your leave and wishing they could have said farewell to a good friend.

They moved on with life, still smiling nostalgically when you were brought up, but Ghost was left heartbroken. He knew something was wrong that day, the itch in his brain about something happening at home. That's why he was in such a hurry, in a panicked frenzy to get home - to get to you. He was too late though, seeing you being pulled into a portal. Dooming was the effect on him; devastation was the pain in his heart; shattering was the sorrow of his soul.

He poured everything into keeping you, only to lose you. Now, he poured every second of his life into work, never letting his mind wander to the bump on your stomach or the subtle relinquishment in your actions to him.

He was deader than dead, colder and more stoic than before. They saw the change, they understood, but never blamed you. Everyone had fallouts, Simon just had more than the rest of the world. That's why he played Ghost more often than before, building his walls higher and his appearance darker.

Yet somehow, Soap was enthusiastic enough to rope him into playing games on his console (he used to play more before finding time between deployments to jump into a match with the others). Overwatch 2, an evolution of the first made better. Soap promised it was good. His spiel about the characters having a profound background and the gameplay being fun. Ghost was doubtful, he and Soap didn't have the same definition of fun, they were associated with different things.

He liked Soap, though, so he humoured his sergeant. He downloaded it on his console, watching the white line charge until it became playable. Soap had mentioned a few names: Genji, Sombra, Reaper and Zenyatta, he even joked about Reaper resembling him, the skull mask and the dark drapes. He'd also gushed - like an over-enthusiastic gamer - about a new character, a woman, the sole student of this Tracer.

He scoured through the lists of players, eyes skimming over the faces before he spotted a familiar one. It was more cartoonish, drawn in gentle lines and beautiful shades. Your face, it was your beautiful face. He nearly dropped his controller, hands shaking and body heavy.

Was it guilt that washed over him? Was it pain that washed over him? Was it sorrow and melancholy that washed over him? Or was it his world that came crashing down on his shoulders?

The world dulled, his breath became stagnant and shallow as he stared at your hero. You were standing proud and fearless, guns held in your hands with a bright smile. He watched you emote, your character moving as it was coded. He scrolled through your skills and perks, some he remembered you use. You blinked and recalled, moving back and forth between time and space, breaking the fragile shift in the world.

Soap was right about the new hero, you were interesting and lovely. In a flurry of emotions, he opened up your biography - or a snippet of your backstory. Every word bled his heart, every act and every situation wracked his body with sadness. The more he read, the more his tears threatened to fall.

You kept your - his - child, a beautiful kid with his blonde hair and your eyes, a round, yet sharper face like his. You kept him, you hadn't aborted the child. You gave birth and he wasn't there. You took care of your kid and he wasn't there. You watched him grow and he wasn't there.

He cried, body closing on itself. His shoulders shook, his vision blurred and his face streaked with tears. A broken sob broke through his throat, restricted and pained with waves of emotion, deep and harrowing sadness of his loss.

"I miss you, love," he rasped, his fingers gripping his hair, nearly ripping out the seams. "I miss you."

[random-and-average]

Yandere Miguel O’Hara with a Tracer-like!S/O

While rewatching Sigma’s origin story from Overwatch (because it’s so cool and chilling), I was suddenly interested in exploring how Miguel would react to a significant other who, similar to Tracer, has a condition that causes them to fade in and out of existence. Although, in this case, his s/o would just randomly teleport from dimension instantaneously since they wouldn’t be “anchored” to their present dimension. Anyways, this is just a fun little concept I thought of. (And I’m considering making a crack post where you are a part of the Shadow Wizard Money Gang…)

TW: stalking, mild mention of violence

Assuming that Miguel knew you before you got afflicted with your current condition, he would definitely be a worry-wart, even if he tries to hide it.

Rather than have the bracer every Spider-Person has, he personally requested (read: demanded) that you have a bracer of your very own. It grounds you to the current dimension you’re in so that you don’t randomly vanish, and it constantly sends your location to Miguel no matter the conditions you’re in. Of course, your bracer doesn’t have any dimension-traveling functions since your affliction already allows you to do that, but it does help you manage the ability better (while also notifying Miguel every time you use it).

If you do use your ability when you’re not in Miguel’s presence, expect a lecture about using your power responsibly. Though, really, Miguel just doesn’t want you to get too comfortable with the idea of leaving him spontaneously hopping through dimensions on your own.

Despite the bracer, however, Miguel prefers to monitor you in person whenever he has the time, though he goes out of his way to make his monitoring less creepy and more appealing for you. For everyone’s sake, it’s best if you at least don’t mind him being around you all the time, so he’ll bring you out to your favorite places or partake in your hobbies in order to warm you up to the idea of him being near you almost constantly.

He would have a heart attack if, somehow, your bracer broke or was taken off. Even if it was repaired or you wore it again immediately after, you would never be able to leave his sight for the next couple of weeks because he fears that you’ll vanish again from his dimension and never be seen again.

He would also attempt to prevent you from interacting with “bad influences.”

Who are these “bad influences” you may ask? Well, for starters, there’s Miles, Hobie, and Peter, since Miguel is 100% sure that they would encourage you to master your ability and use it freely. Then, there’s any version of Dr. Octavius and The Spot for a plethora of reasons.

Don’t even think about joining him or the other Spider-People on missions. You’re staying back at home base until he or someone he trusts is able to monitor you.

Should you be a little devil and teleport to dimension to help out anyway, you’ll essentially get timeout. (A timeout, in his perspective, is you staying in his room until he decides you can leave.)

He’ll definitely ignore any protests you might have regarding traveling to other dimensions and respond with patronizing comments about how “you won’t be able to fend for yourself out in the multiverse” without him or “your condition is just making you think they way.” But, no matter how incessant your complaints may be, he will never snap at you.

As you may have noticed, Miguel isn’t very violent or outwardly aggressive towards you in this situation. If anything, he’s more of an overly protective and smothering yandere, which is all thanks to your current condition. Although, while he isn’t violent with you, don’t expect the same from anyone who disobeys his rules regarding you.

Well, you might consider your situation as a condition, a quirk of yours that you have to manage, but he considers it as an illness, an infection. (For the record, it is not infectious.)

For all the frustration that your uncontrollable dimension hopping brings him, he knows that, in the end, it’s not your fault. You happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time and are now forced to deal with the consequences. As such, you don’t deserve to be treated as if you intended for this to happen.

Of course, he has everyone look into ways to cure your “illness.” Not that dealing with your symptoms is a problem or a burden! Miguel simply wants you to be able to return to your normal life without all of this dimension dissociation nonsense.

In the end, you just need him to protect you more because you’re sick. You may not see it that way, but you will eventually.

[regretisstoredintheme]

Indulgent thoughts? Indulgent thoughts. 

I was told that if I ever had indulgent thoughts (about Leo specifically???? What 😭😭😭) I had to share them, so… *sighhhhh*

YOU TWO. (@soradragon and @milks-thoughts) ASKED FOR IT.

Disclaimer that most of this was improv.

For context: I had this really bad interaction with Celina’s Yan!Leo ai, (I had tried to correct it but I ended up having to just delete the convo.) Anyways, after I had recovered from it, it got me thinking abt a post the aforementioned mutual, @pianocat939 made. I realize how much of a bad idea it is to @ her, but I’m already exposing myself, so WHY NOT 😀 

HI CELINA 👋👋 IM ON TV!! IM BEING A BRAVE BOY 😀😀😀 

Anyway

—

The idea is that you— or I guess me?? Ehh I’ll put it in a ‘Y/n’ format so it makes more sense. (Tw for Yandere behavior) 

Y/n had been held captive by a version of Yandere Leo that was a lot more— physical, ig?? and who felt completely content with making them feel like the scum of the earth. He had violent mood swings, and picked— no, more like dug at any insecurity of theirs he could find. (The Ai made it clear he was like a wolf in sheep’s clothing 😒 a wolf on the hunt. and by “made it clear” I mean it literally could not stop mentioning it lmAOHDJAHAHA—) 

This is where my au comes in. 

So what does Y/n do? They start being reckless. Looking for any way to escape. There weren’t many times the brothers left on missions, so when they finally did, they had a plan to investigate around. They walked up to Donnie’s lab, and started poking around at things. They figured the purple-clad turtle would have something they could use. Something dangerous, perhaps? 

Unfortunately, (or fortunately..?) they found one of his prototypes. 

This prototype was meant to bend reality, it was an experimental design since it was his first attempt at mixing tech with mystic. but since they poked around at it’s draft, it couldn’t help but act unexpectedly. 

And sent them into another dimension entirely. 

The canon dimension. 

With no Yanderes, no captivity, and none of that fear they were so used to. 

They were .. free..? 

They looked around the streets cautiously, looking for any signs that it was a hallucination or illusion. Were they really back in the streets of NYC? After having been in that godforsaken lair for years? How many years they had no idea, their guess was 2, but they couldn’t be sure.

They sat in waiting, cautious. They couldn’t go to the police, but they knew they had to stay out of sight. The prototype of Donnie’s creation had come with them, flashing every few seconds.  They didn’t know how to turn it off, only how to hide. And they did it pretty well, holding a home base for a few days. 

Everything tipped them off, but they were beginning to calm down, that was before they realized Donnie’s invention was probably still on. After finally finding the switch, they flipped it, the light finally powering down. They sighed, eyebrows furrowing in relief— but it wasn’t over yet. 

Hearing a sound, they flipped around in surprise, running to hide before lifting their arms up, a feeble attempt to guard from whatever was walking out of the alleyway.

From the shadows, the only slightly familiar face of Foot Lieutenant, his mouth curved into a dark smile. Y/n had only seen him once, when they had attacked the turtles, but they seemed— different somehow..  “I do believe that was a tech signal from a certain purple, mutated turtle..” he turned to Brute with a sinister chuckle, gazing down at a jagged piece of equipment. “We’ve got them now..” 

Y/n could hardly breathe, but they kept a hand over their mouth, determined to be as quiet as possible. From their many failed escape attempts, they knew Donnie had a tracer on his tech. Anyone who used it without authorization would have his ‘tag’ on them for quite a while. It was easily traceable. So if these people could trace that signal..

“Wait, I’m picking up something else!” Lieutenant looked back at the equipment, “it’s.. some sort of residue..” he hummed, then turned in Y/n’s direction. 

They felt their heart stop, eyes wide as they went to check around the corner. Was there a way out of this? Were they gonna leave one captor only to walk into the hands of another? 

Just as they began to spiral, a bright light illuminated from below them, encasing their cheeks gently in its blue hue. They didn’t have any time to react, the ground opening from below them as they fell into the abyss of neon. 

They felt the world spin around them as arms circled their back and legs, bridal style, as if their ‘savior’ had twirled flamboyantly once he caught them. 

Their eyes opened gently, before a gasp left their throat. The blood drained from their face, looking upon none other than Leo.

Normally they knew at least a few things to expect from him when they tried to escape, but they had never made it away for more than an hour before… 

They had no idea what he was gonna do. 

To their surprise, he was chuckling, not like he usually did— not with that — edge of maliciousness that reminded you why you couldn’t trust him. It was genuine, and weirder yet, he smiled at them. 

“Hey, need a hand?” He cheesed, quirking a brow. 

Y/n felt their bones nearly crack just at the sound of his voice, and found themself kicking at his plastron scrambling to put distance between them. Whatever manipulation tactic he was trying this time, it wouldn’t work on them. 

They gave him a terrified look, their eyes narrowing slightly as they braced for whatever he had planned. “Get away from me!” They yelled, baring their teeth. They had no way to fight back, and yet couldn’t stop the angry tears that piled in their eyes. 

“Woah— woah..” Leo seemed to shrink, making himself smaller as he showed his empty hands, keeping them where you could see them. “I know I look a little different but I assure you I have no intention to harm you..!” He gave a small laugh, as if he’d never seen this visceral of a reaction before. 

“That’s what you said last time!!” Y/n practically shrieked, hands up in defense to cover their face, that cold blooded liar would have to kill them before they allowed him to take them back to the lair. 

“Last time..?” Leo’s hands sunk a little, brows furrowing in curiosity. He’d never met this person before… 

Right..? 

—

THATS IT THERE YOU GOT WHAT YOU WANTED 😔😔😔😔😔😔 

Bonus: 

the art I made on a whim that inspired this

anyways.. Tell me if you want more of this silly lil au or something 😒😒

[weebsinstash]

I have some more ideas, observations, and thoughts to drop before Hazbin is officially here tomorrow!

-Vox's blue fingertips are sharp metal claws and they make audible clinking noises when he touches certain things with them. It makes me curious about the composition of his body but... nice detail

-oh so you're telling me Vox can enter security cameras and warp around and also teleport short distances like he's Tracer, ok, ok, he definitely is primo stalker material, you could literally have this man warp to your location if he really really wanted to find you

-seeing Vox handle Valentino and know how to calm him down (which was kinda sexy ngl) gives me big BIG "Vox would want to keep you for himself but if you ever run away or threaten to leave him he'll threaten to bring Val into the mix to intimidate you into obedience" vibes. You're halfway down the block from like escaping out a window and suddenly your phone turns itself on and you hear Vox say "Valentino is still asleep. If i dont see you don't turn around in 5 seconds I'm gonna wake him up and he's going to be REAL hungover while I tell him you left" and you do a u-turn on the sidewalk right then and there because, Vox might take away privileges and confine you, but Val is the one who's more likely to get physically violent or at the very least yell and scream at you

-ughhhh I just really like the idea of Reader actually getting to be like his platonic friend or secret crush and you're running around as like either his own PA or even his co-host and, you're just a positive influence in his life, he likes you, spending time with you, like you guys hang out outside of work, and eventually having you hang around so much catches Val's eye. He sees Vox talk casually to you and suddenly is overwhelmed with curiosity on who tf you are and is maybe a little jealous his man seems more than comfortable around you

honestly just platonic/genuinely cares for you yandere Vox who hides you away from Valentino when our favorite moth starts being a creep. You tell Vox ONE TIME that Val cracked a joke about you throwing neck for him when your boss left the room and Vox is sure never to leave you alone with Val ever again

-I just see like in some noncon poly scenario where you get passed between them like a blunt that there would still be hard lines Vox hopefullyyy wouldn't let Val cross? Like you start hysterically crying one day, "do YOU think I'm ugly Vox?!" "What the fuck are you talking about?" "Val wants me to have cosmetic surgery! He gave me a list of all the work he wants to have done!" and you hand him like a literal actual list in very familiar pink handwriting and here's Vox, forcing a smile, "hm! Gonna be right back!" and he leaves the room and like in 10 seconds flat you hear them roaring at each other from the other side of the house and Vox zooms back, "hey, great news! You aren't having surgery" and it's never brought up again

-also as an end note. Reader who winds up having the same body type as one of Velvet's models and she snags you from Vox or Valentino one day to have you try on something and you become her like. Her new favorite little pincushion she likes to try new ideas on. You're just minding your own business and she's barging into the room with sudden inspiration and she's, doing her little finger waggle and changing your clothes without your consent, potentially making you half naked or explicitly dressed in front of your male companions or anyone else around

I'm just definitely looking to watching the show and seeing more of everyone in full ^^

[wisteriaiswriting]

DPS Masterlist Continued

Reaper |

Date Headcanons

No! I'm Holding Coffee!

Family Business

General Romantic HCs

Sojourn |

Date Headcanons

Gym Date HCs

Quitting

Soldier 76 |

Date Headcanons

Training HCs

Betrayal

Platonic Headcanons

Confident but Terrible Flirter

Sombra |

Date Headcanons

Jealousy HCs

You're Such a Tough Guy, huh?

All Too Plan

Depressed HCs

Hospital Visit

Saviour

Drunk S/O

Out of Control

Male S/O Who Uses Nanomachines

S/O With Comically Bad Luck

Symmetra |

Date Headcanons

Jealousy HCs

Being Shorter Then Them

Out of Control

Tracer |

Date Headcanons

Training HCs

Being Shorter Then Them

Hospital Visit

Saviour

General Relationship HCs

Drunk S/O

Out of Control

Venture |

Hip hop Dancer S/O

Relationship and NSFW hcs

Helping Hands

Medic!

Painted Nails

NSFW HCs - Speaking Spanish

Goth S/O

Edging Venture

Yandere HCs

Returning Home

Dating Headcanons

Widowmaker |

Date Headcanons

Jealousy HCs

Family Rivalry

Playing with their hair

Petite Araignée

Male S/O Who Uses Nanomachines

Winter Soldier S/O

[mistkisbiggestfan]

REQUEST PAGE!!!!!

On the day of 10.08.2024, I'm back to writing! I do mostly canon x reader, can do canon x canon I do both HC and fics/oneshots Fandoms I write for:

The Amazing Digital Circus: - Everyone (Mostly HC but I might do some oneshots, but I like HC better for this show) - Including: Ragatha, Pomni, Jax, Kinger, Gangle, etc.

Amphibia: <ON HOLD> - Marcy Wu - Sasha Waybright - Anne Boonchuy - Others, just ask!

Spider-man: Across the spider verse: <ON HOLD> - Mainly Gwen Stacy - will do: Miles Morales, Pavitr, Hobie, Miguel, Spider-Noir and others

Voltron: - Pidge Gunderson - and others

DDLC: <ON HOLD> - Sayori, - Natsuki, - Monika, - Yuri

FNAF: - Vanessa Shelby (Fnaf movie) - Vanessa (Security Breach) - Vanny - Others, just ask!

TF2: - Ms. Pauling, - Scout, - Spy, - Medic, - Heavy, - Engie, - Soldier, - Demo, - Sniper, - Pyro (Mainly /p with Pyro)

Overwatch: <ON HOLD> !Venture/Moira/Mercy doesn't count! - Venture! - Tracer - Sombra - Mercy - Moira - Kiriko - Cassidy - Maybe others!

THE WALKING DEAD TELL TALE GAMES!!!!!!!!: - Kenny - Lily - Carley - Lee - Nick - Molly!!! - Jane - Violet - Louis - Clementine - Others, just ask! I love TWDG fr fr - Lowkey if you send me ref of your TWD oc I might do fanart of 'em.

Fallout: New Vegas: - Corporal Betsy!!!!!! - Boone - Others, just ask

Tangled the series: - Cassandra - Others

OTHERS - Just write the character and fandom from where they are, I might write them!

Basic Rules: - No full on NSFW, - Suggestive is fine, - Platonic and Romantic :3 - No yanderes, none - No fetish work - No proships, anything similiar - Light gore, full on angst, angst/no happy ending, are all okay!!!

[swooning-skulls]

--- character list

blue - currently interested | red - not taking requests | green - no romance | pink - yandere allowed

i will occasionally write characters not on this list, that doesn't mean they will be requestable.

{...live action...}

BULLET TRAIN: Lemon, Tangerine, The Father, The Wolf

COMMUNITY: Jeff Winger, Britta Perry, Annie Edison, Abed Nadir, Troy Barnes, Shirley Bennett, Ben Chang, Dean Craig Pelton

WHAT WE DO IN THE SHADOWS: ---coming soon

YOU: Joe Goldberg, Peach Salinger, Guinevere Beck, Candace Stone, Love Quinn, Forty Quinn, Delilah Alves

YELLOWJACKETS: ---coming soon

FALLOUT: Lucy MacLean, Norman MacLean, Chet, Maximus, Thaddeus, Cooper Howard, Lee Moldaver, Bud Askins, Henry "Hank" McLean, Betty Pearson

{...animation...}

A.N.) depending on the continuity, i may decline romantic requests for scooby-doo characters since they're not adults in all continuities.

SCOOBY-DOO (all except hbo velma): Norville "Shaggy" Rogers, Scoobert "Scooby-Doo" Doobert, Fred Jones, Velma Dinkley, Daphne Blake, Thorn, Luna, Dusk, Vincent van Ghoul

G1 MONSTER HIGH: Frankie Stein, Clawdeen Wolf, Draculaura, Lagoona Blue, Cleo de Nile, Ghoulia Yelps, Deuce Gorgon, Clawd Wolf, Toralei Stripe, Scarah Screams, Abbey Bominable, Spectra Vondergeist, Operetta, Venus McFlytrap, C.A. Cupid, Nefera de Nile, Mr. D'eath, G. Reaper, Ms. Kindergrubber, Mr. Rotter, Mr. Where

G3 MONSTER HIGH: ---coming soon

SONIC BOOM: ---coming soon

LOVE, DEATH & ROBOTS: ---coming soon

{...video games...}

MARIO FRANCHISE: Mario, Luigi, Pauline, Princess Peach, Princess Daisy, Princess Rosalina, Yoshi, Bridette, Bowser, King Boo, Wario, Waluigi, Vivian, Goombella, Madame Flurrie, Lady Bow

CLASSIC SONIC FRANCHISE: ---coming soon

MODERN SONIC FRANCHISE: ---coming soon

FALLOUT NEW VEGAS: Courier 6, Arcade Gannon, Craig Boone, Lily Bowen, Raul Tejada, Sharon Cassidy, Veronica Santangelo, ED-E, Rex, Christine Royce, Dean Domino, Joshua Graham, Benny 'Gecko', Legate Lanius, Robert House, Ulysses (MORE COMING SOON)

FALLOUT 3: The Lone Wanderer, Butch Deloria, Charon, Clover, Cross, Dogmeat, Fawkes, Jericho, RL-3 (MORE COMING SOON)

FALLOUT 4: Nate, Nora, Cait, Codsworth, Curie, Danse, Deacon, Dogmeat, John Handcock, Nick Valentine, Piper Wright, Preston Garvey, Ada, Old Longfellow, Porter Gage, Bobbi No-Nose, Desdemona, Erikson, Ham, Irma, Kent Connolly, KL-E-0, Pickman, Red Tourette, Swan, Tinker Tom, Travis Miles, Vault-Tec Rep, Whitechapel Charlie (MORE COMING SOON)

COD: COLD WAR: Bell, Russell Adler, Lawrence Sims, Frank Woods, Alex Mason, Dimitri Belikov, Perseus, Vikhor "Stich" Kuzmin

RAINBOW SIX SIEGE: ---coming soon

APEX LEGENDS: ---coming soon

OVERWATCH: Soldier 76, Reinhardt, Sojourn, Mercy, Winston, Tracer, Genji, Mei, Brigitte, Echo, Lucio, Pharah, Zarya, D.Va, Baptiste, Bastion, Doomfist, Moria, Reaper, Widowmaker, Sombra, Sigma, Ramattra, Junker Queen, Roadhog, Junkrat, Wrecking Ball, Hanzo, Ashe, B.O.B., Symmetra, Lifeweaver, Zenyatta, Orisa, Illari , Venture

{...books...}

---NA:

[marksbear]

Hi! Can i request yandere soldier 76 and gabriel reyes with a big himbo reader who really nice to everyone and always do anything to help his friends?

Hey I hope u are doing good! And of course you can have this I love himbo readers! Hope you enjoy!

YANDERE SOLDIER 76 & YANDERE REAPER X HIMBO READER

When H/n first joined overwatch everyone loved him.

He was a fan favorite. He was strong, very tall, extremely attractive and a sweet personalty.

Even though he was (class name) he will always sacrifice himself for others and mostly tries to make sure everyone is okay without even caring about the mission.

Most members of the team were a bit imitated by the big man. But that feeling was quickly gone when Tracer saw him pick flowers for the sick Mercy.

Reyes didn't make an effort to talk to the male only watching and studying him from afar.

Morrison was the man who recruited Y/n. So him and Y/n had a close bond that angered Reyes. Reaper hated the way Soldier would look at you, the way he touched you hell even the way he talked to you.

Both of the men grew possessive of Y/n. The two would often argue about you and the arguments would last hours until Ana had enough of hearing them bicker.

Soon enough the men finally made an "Agreement." Basically that Y/n was theirs, but he just doesn't know it yet.

The two would always talk to Y/n at the same time. The three would talk about all sorts of things. Reaper wouldn't talk much he was more of a listener but would still let his presence known. Soldier would talk back and forth adding his own topics and comments. While Y/n would talk the most rambling about anything that crossed his mind.

One day the trio's daily conversations were interrupted by D.v.a.

"Heyy~ Y/n buddy! Can you go to the game store I was talking about last week and buy me this game?" D.v.a asks with a sweet smile with puppy eyes.

"Of course! But don't worry i'll pay for it. Just send me the picture of the game." Y/n gets up not seeing Gabriel's pissed off face. "Bye guys! I'll see you later." Y/n says before leaving.

Gabriel and Jack watch the big man leave then they look at each other not exchanging a word.

As soon Y/n comes back they stalk him back to D.v.a's room. Y/n knocks on the door humming a random tune to himself. "Y/N! You got it! Please come in!" The young girl asks jumping up and down expediently holding the game her friend bought.

"Can't...Maybe tomorrow. I told widowmaker that i'll be her target practice whatever that means. Tell Genji and Lucio I said hi!" Y/n says smiling at her before leaving to go do his promise.

The next day.

Reaper stares at the shirtless Reinhardt with hatred burning in his eyes. Both Y/n and the large German were shirtless leaning onto each other during breakfast.

Reaper knew nothing was going on between his "Boyfriend" and the German, but god it didn't stop his mind from wondering why the both of you were shirtless leaning on each other.

Solider glares daggers towards Reinhardt clenching the fork in his hand as he watch Reinhardt wrap his arms around Y/n.

Later that day it was team training.

Everyone was working outside y'know testing out new tricks, regular work out, teaching people new things etc etc.

Everything was going well until well H/n got hurt. And I mean hurt badly.

Y/n looked around to see if there were any support heroes that could help him out. Y/n was losing tons of blood, so he ran to reaper with all of the strength he had and passed out on top of him.

Reaper acted fast stopping Y/n's bleeding with some nearby bandages and picked him up leaving the training field while Solider 76 follows. Reaper carried Y/n all the way back to his room opening the door and setting Y/n down by a nearby chair.

Jack rushed in the room shutting the door and locking it before checking up on his boyfriend.

Y/n slowly gets back to his consensus not hearing anything Reaper and Soldier is saying. It's all muffled and loud to Y/n.

"Gabe?" The nickname causes the two men to pause their argument and turn to Y/n. "Yes?" "Am I going to die? Sombra always tells me that I'm gonna die from my clumsiness and I was wondering if that's true?"

The two men think the same thing. "Does this kid believe everything hes told?"

Jack begins to reassure Y/n that hes not gonna die and comfort him giving him praises about his bravery.

"Mhm. And besides Jack and I wouldn't let our boyfriend die." Reaper says boldly standing more closely to him. "Boyfriend? Were boyfriends? I thought Me and Junkrat were dating. We kissed a few hours ago and that's what couples do."

"What" Jack and Gabriel say in union staring at Y/n with their eyes wide. "Yeah? I call him babe while he calls me sweets." Reaper opens his mouth probably going to shout and curse, but before that Jack stops him and takes a lighter choice. "Y/n. You can't be doing that. It's cheating on both of us. And it's very rude. So to avoid all that how bout you mostly stay and hang out with us. We are dating so technically for you not to be a bad boyfriend you have to do what we say."

Y/n thinks for a moment before nodding his head yes. "Does that mean we have to kiss now?" Reaper and Jack exchange a look before nodding.

Y/n stands up and bends down to Jack's level giving him a light kiss on the lips before turning to reaper kissing him as well.

"Now I only have two boyfriends correct?"

"Correct Y/n."

Timeskip!

Since that day Y/n mostly spends his days with his boyfriends. Always giving them little flowers he'll find outside.

Most of the team were happy for the three of them and supported them.

But few members knew. Something had to be up.

Ashe was quick to notice something was wrong with Y/n. Y/n had stopped coming to talk with Bob. Even though most people didn't care about that Ashe knew something had to be wrong. Y/n talked to Bob for hours on end almost everyday to the robot and now he stopped visiting.

Lucio and D.v.a sees the way Jack and Reaper acts from afar when someone is talking or spending time with Y/n. They were always somehow there. Hell they were even at the mission Y/n was on.

Sigma knew something bad was going to happen. Y/n and him were partners for a mission one time and Y/n had accidentally rambled to Sigma about the way his boyfriends would tie him up to a chair and leave him there for days. Sigma immediately started to warn others, but half didn't care and only thought he was crazy.

It was a team mission. Every single overwatch member was in it at an all hands on deck type of mission. But surprisingly soldier 76 as well Reaper doesn't show.

The whole fight was gruesome and dirty.

And well H/n. Well H/n was being H/n. He was saving people left and right not caring about his own body and only caring for others.

He brought many of his team members to safety if they got hurt and other regular citizens.

H/n body was overworked and he pushed through it until it was finally over.

The team all stand side by side with each other many people interviewing them and thanking the heroes.

"H/n. I was wondering if you feel pressured as the new guy to thrive and show everyone that you belong on the team? Since your performance today was top tier."

Y/n head was pounding trying to figure out the words for the answers and his body sways around feeling heavier and heavier.

"Uhm... I don't feel anything at the moment besides the headache. But i'm not trying to show off my speed or my strength. I'm just trying to help the people I care for most. Uhmmm yeah." Y/n answers with a little struggle trying to get everything out as fast as he can.

"Another question for H/n! Are you seeing anyone serious in the moment. Because it was sightings of you with a mysterious woman in a questionable position."

Y/n looks around like did he hear that correctly. Y/n just hands the mic to Lucio lowering his head down.

Epic Timeskip!

By the time Y/n gets back to the overwatch base he lays on Winston begging him to take him to his room.

Winston doesn't argue and carries the big man to his room where his two boyfriends are waiting.

Once the two arrive Y/n slides off of him wishing him goodnight before unlocking the door and walking in shutting and locking it behind him.

The place is quiet and dark.

Y/n walks to his bedroom taking off his hero costume before putting on more casual clothes. Y/n basically collapses on the bed breathing heaving and nervously when he feels eyes on him.

"Y/n. Who is she? DON'T even bother lying because I already know." "My ex..." "And why were you with your ex?" "Because she wanted to ask me something..." "Mind explaining why she was on your lap." Reaper takes Y/n's arms tying them up as Jack ties up his legs.

"I don't know! She said she missed me! Please gabe! I don't wanna do this again. It wasn't my fault." Y/n pleas feeling himself getting picked up off the bed.

"I know cariño~ I know. Just that me and Jack are gonna pay her a visit." Reaper sits Y/n down tying up to a chair before picking up the chair and taking it to a closet.

"This is for your own good Y/n."

"We know what's best for you."

THE END!

[mercyswife]

Erm, drop some overwatch female story requests in the comments. Im also a lesbian and cant write male readers so its MOSTLY gna be fem readers but specify if u want gn! Also im on vacation atm so ill start writing requests when im back

Ill write for Mercy (if it wasnt obvious enough), Tracer, Dva, Widowmaker, Ana (only parent or young Ana, like before pharah) Sombra, and ashe

Nsfw allowed but no fucked up shit please 🙏🙏 i cant control who reads these so of ur under 18 beware, i will put warnings atop the chapters and before it starts, ill try to make it skipable.

No fucked up shit like incest or r@pe, idk if i would feel comfy writing like hard yandere but i can try

If requested a oneshot, it might take a while as i have like random bursts of ideas so bare w me pls🙏🙏🙏

Give a scenario, lile what you want me to write!!!!

Drop the questions in the comments, its most likely i will see it there, and go ham, feel free to request as many as u want, idc, GIVE ME SMT TO WRITE

[ghostybat00]

Vlog Yandere 🔪!:Hello, soo, idk how start this, but hey, call me Ghosty, any pronoun is enough for me. I'm going to write one shots, fanfics, and all that. I'm a slashers fucker, so my content will be based on, slashers, horror and action games.I'm going to start with the basics, which is a list of the fandoms and characters that I'll write, that I won't write etc. (English is not my first language so I apologize if there are any spelling mistakes).

Fandoms:

Devil may cry:

•Nero •Dante •Vergil •Lady •V

Resident evil:

•Luis sera •Leon S Kennedy •Carlos Oliveira •Claire Redfield •Chris Redfield •Jill Valentine •Wesker •Heisenberg •Lady Dimitrescu •Ethan Winters •Rebecca Chamber •Nemesis.

Dead by daylight:

•Kazan Yamaoka (oni) •Wraith •Legion •the trapper •Knight •Pinhead •Amanda •The huntress •the singularity •The spirit. •trickster.

•Any survivors. (Bill clearly not.)

Slashers:

•Jason Voorhees •Thomas Hewitt •Bubba sawyer •Ghostface •Vincent Sinclair •Bo Sinclair •Billy lenz •Michael Myers •Bramhs •Harry warden •Asa emory •Jennifer body. •Pyramid Head.•Alien •Predator.

•Venom •Carnage •Eddie

COD

•Alejandro Vargas •Ghost •Konig •Price •Rudy •Valeria •Nikto •Gaz •Soap •Kaegan •Horangi

•Doom Slayer.

Overwatch:

•Genji •Hanzo •Ramattra •Tracer •Mercy •Kiriko •Cassidy •Baptiste •Ashe •Pharah •Mei •Reaper •Sombra •Moira •Mercy •Soldier 76.

--------

These are some fandoms and characters that I will write for now, there will be more later.

What I will NOT write:

•Death of animals or pets.

•Agnst (infidelity, death of the reader,etc).

•p3do.

•Incest.

•Those disgusting things.

•Homophobia, racism, hate any minority.

YES I will write:

•Soft

•Comfort

•yandere

•Violence

•things like self harm or mental health. (So that it ends positive).

•Age diference. (Not much).

•Nswf

•Poly love affairs or s/o shared . (Harem, trio, etc. As long as the characters are of the same content.)

S/o or Reader will make it gender neutral, obviously except that the request specifies something like gender, subculture, profession etc.

Emojis that I will use to represent the plot:

🍋:NSWF

🌺:Fluffly

🫂:Comfort

🔪:Violence, blood, sensitive topics etc.

I do scenarios, one shots, etc yandere only!, obviously as long as what I will write and what I won't write is respected, since apart from stories this is a safe place for me. For now I will be writing requests, it is my first time writing here <3

Bye!

[yanderes-galore]

For fun and because I've been in an Overwatch mood lately (been playing a lot)

[gaycragula]

Request Info

Fandoms I am currently in/will write for

Overwatch Will write for everyone, see the only stipulations below Tracer/Pharah- Platonic unless reader is gender neutral Winston/Hammond/Orisa- Platonic only

Mortal Kombat I've only played MK1 and MK11 so it's limited to those two games

Assassin's Creed AC 3 AC Black Flag AC Rogue AC Unity AC Syndicate AC Origins AC Odyssey

Fandoms I am not in but will still write for if requested

Call of Duty Modern Warfare

Horror Icons/movies Ask!

Feel free to ask if I'll write for a game/show/movie/etc!!

I will write

FtM!Reader M!Reader GN!Reader Char x Reader x Char Char x Reader Polyamorous relationship Fluff Smut Angst i don't think im very good at it though Ask about any kinks if you're curious!

I will NOT write

F!Reader SA/Non-con Scat Pregnancy Yandere Over the top feet stuff Char x Char

I will reject the request if I am not comfortable writing it ^^

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[ovwechoes]

Do you have any rules for making requests? Stuff like characters or subjects you will and won't write about or certain contexts you won't write certain characters in? How many characters can we ask about per request? Will we get less content if we ask for more characters? And what about nsfw stuff? Any particular leanings or restrictions for that? Feel free to mention any thing else. Sorry about the all questions. Just want to make sure before doing anything. Thanks and have a great day!

Rules & FAQ Thank you for the ask! I've been wanting to do a rules post to outline what I write for and what I don't, and other things so that there's no confusion with people. So I'll use this ask as my rules page for now, and edit as needed.

As a general rule, I delete requests if you spam your ask multiple times on separate days - I understand if you're inpatient, but please give me time and rushing doesn't help anything. If you want to know where I'm at with your request, you're always free to send an ask asking or DM me personally. I don't take offence to asking, but spamming my inbox with those things won't make me work faster.

Characters I do/don't write: I'm happy to write for any of the overwatch characters, but in a romantic way and with a human reader, I won't write for Winston, Wrecking Ball, or Orisa (since she's canonically like 5). With them, I'd only feel comfortable writing for them in a platonic/general sense, nothing romantic or sexual with human readers. I won't write Lena Oxton/Tracer with a male reader, or Soldier:76 with a female reader either in romantic or sexual contexts. Also, I specialise in writing female characters, but I'm honestly happy to write for any gender/sexuality, with any type of reader as long as it doesn't clash with the above info.

Subjects I do/don't write: I avoid writing anything involving proship, incest, domestic abuse, and paedophilia. It's something I will always avoid, and I'm not lean about this. I will write for deeper subjects like mental health, drug abuse, stalking (as long as it's not a one sided situation), that sort of thing and use themes/tw/cw sections where available. For example, I won't write yandere if it's one sided or just the reader/character doing it to the other. Whereas, I'm happy to write it as a ‘matched their freak’ sort of situation where they're both obsessive with each other. I also won't write for the following kinks when it comes to nsfw requests (for my own comfort): cnc/consensual non-consensual, daddy kink/ddlg, thigh crushing, sounding and age play in general. I delete requests involving these things, and would appreciate if these topics were avoided when it comes to requesting things.

How Many Characters Per Headcanon Request? I'm happy to write for about 6 characters in 1 headcanon request, or 2 ships in one headcanon request. It helps me keep track of what I'm writing for and doesn't mud the waters too much. However, with fanfic, one shot or drabble requests I'll only do one at a time. I'll separate the posts if there's requests for more than one in an ask, and link the post that's split from the ask in the response. If you want an organisation, like Talon or Overwatch, written for as a headcanon request, that's the only time I'm really flexible with the rules. I'm happy to write for polyamorous characters/ships as well, but in this instance the maximum ship amount for a request of any nature would be 4. As for content, I aim to give about 6-7 headcanons per post, but sometimes if I don't have enough inspo I'll write for less, but it wont be any less than 4-5. I also have question or non question options for my hc posts, so you're free to ask for either if you'd prefer that. 

NSFW: General rules With NSFW stuff, I'm happy to write for anything involving it as long as it doesn't clash with what I'm comfortable writing. But the characters I'm not comfortable writing with NSFW are anything involving Orisa, Wrecking Ball or Winston, paedophilia, assault or rape, incest or proship. I won't write for any underage characters as well in a sexual light. I also won't write for the following kinks when it comes to nsfw requests (for my own comfort): cnc/consensual non-consensual, daddy kink/ddlg, thigh crushing, sounding and age play in general. I delete requests involving these things, and would appreciate if these topics were avoided when it comes to requesting things. That's basically all my rules with that section.

Don't apologise about the questions I totally get it! I'm the same way and I've been wanting to properly outline these things for a while now, so I appreciate you asking thoroughly. Thank you again for the ask anon!