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smutbymia · 4 years

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classmate jeno x reader with enemies to lovers please 🥺

There were a million and one reasons why you couldn’t stand Jeno:

1. he’s an asshole

2. he’s the student body president for the second year in a row (you lost twice)

3. he’s a popular rich kid

4. he’s smart, athletic, AND good looking (I mean seriously... who is that lucky?)

Just to list a few.

You went to school together all your lives and it somehow felt like each year he got more and more irritating. This year is your last year and you promised yourself you wouldn’t let whatever ridiculous rivalry you and Jeno had ruin it. And so far you had done a good job of keeping that promise until this very moment.

School had ended for the day, marking the completion of the first week of your senior year. You were reaching for a pen that dangled from a string next to a sign up sheet when you felt the warm skin of another hand brush against yours. You raised your head planning to mutter a quick apology to the person until you locked eyes with that bastard Jeno. The soft expression on your face immediately went icy as did his.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you spat at him, the pen lingering in your hand. Jeno plucked it from between your fingers and wrote his name on the sign up sheet. Your eyes went wide and he dropped the pen, letting it hang from its string once more before turning to you and stepping forward.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he towered over you with his height.

You groaned, stomping your feet before whining “You’re already president, why do you have to join yearbook too?”

Jeno rolled his eyes, “Because I need more clubs for my college application.”

Your eyes shot daggers into his. You picked up the dangling pen and scribbled your name under his on the list before turning on your heels and walking into the open classroom next to you. You emerged from the room an hour later, expressionless. You pinched yourself, hoping that today was just an awful nightmare. Person after person left the room, walking past you until the hall went quiet with the exception of a few voices that lingered further down the school hall as people slowly made their way out.

Things had gotten just slightly worse. When choosing the president for the Yearbook club, you and Jeno ended up in a deadlocked vote -- thus encouraging Mr. Park, the faculty member in charge to come up with the brilliant idea of electing you both to share the presidency. As if it wasn’t bad enough that you had to be in the same club. Now the two of you would be spending basically the entire year together working on such an important project.

“Im not going to let him ruin me, I’m not going to let him ruin me, I’m not going to let him ruin me,” you repeated to yourself quietly as you slowly walked towards the nearest exit, in what felt like a daze.

“That is quite the mantra,” teased Jeno. He had left the classroom last after talking with Mr. Park and caught up to you at some point. You jumped at the sound of his voice.

“What do you want now?” you groaned.

Jeno stepped in front of you blocking your path.

“Does it look like I want to be president with you? I’m being mature about it because it’s what everyone else wanted so you should stop acting like such a brat,” he spat.

“You’re calling ME a brat? How ironic,” you scoffed, “You’re already in a ton of different clubs and hold multiple presidencies. What else could you possibly need for your college application? You could even buy your way in if you wanted to.”

Jeno froze at your final sentence. You continued the assault of words. “You know what your problem is? You can’t stand to lose,” you said, standing toe to toe with him. Jeno chuckled under his breath before bending slightly so that his face was hovering over your face.

“You know what your problem is, princess? You’re okay with losing unless it’s to me,” he began, “You may still be royalty but that doesn’t mean you are anywhere near as powerful as I am,” he said as he straightened himself back up, walking backwards as he spoke. He tapped on one of the series of pins fastened to his school uniform jacket and you dropped your gaze to see what he was gesturing to -- it was a golden line drawing of a king’s crown. You locked eyes one last time before he turned around and stormed out of the school, leaving you standing alone in the empty corridor, blood rushing through your body with your fists balled up at your sides.

That night you returned home, diving right into your study routine and getting an early start on some assignments to distract yourself from the awful day you were having. You had just gotten comfortable in bed when your phone buzzed with new notifications. You leaned over to squint at the bright screen.

JENO: It’s Jeno

JENO: School tomorrow. 5:30pm.

You groaned before reaching for the device to type out a reply.

Y/N: How did you get my number?

JENO: I’m the student body president. I can do anything I want.

JENO: Just be there we have work to do.

You rolled your eyes at his response before locking your phone and drifting off to bed.

The next day flew by the way Saturday’s typically did. You had breakfast with your family before heading out for a jog and coming home to do some workouts on youtube in your bedroom before taking some time to study and do some yearbook club work. When that evening finally rolled around you threw on some black biker shorts and a comfy oversized black graphic tee with some rock bands logo printed on the front before putting your hair up into a bun.

Your school uniform was very preppy looking and you had to keep up appearances so every other part of your appearance had to be up to the same standard everyday. This resulted in you dressing quite “girly” so you enjoyed being able to dress down on the weekends when you weren’t out socializing.

Once you were done getting ready you made your way over to the school. According to Jeno, he had both keys and permission for the both of you to get some work done despite it being a Saturday. A security guard was parked outside by the gates when you arrived and you held up your yearbook club pass before he gave you a quick nod then immediately returned to watching some sports game on his phone screen and eating a sandwich.

When you finally entered the school and got to the Yearbook/Media club lounge, you found Jeno leaning back in a computer chair as he clicked away at the mouse with his eyes glued to the monitor. He didn’t hear you when you entered because of the headphones he had covering his ears. He was dressed down too. He sported grey sweatpants, and a white t-shirt and his black hair looked slightly damp as the strands clumped together slightly and rested against his forehead. He nodded his head to music, and tapped his free fingers against the desk he was seated at.

When you stepped further into the room he spun in his chair to face you. Jeno’s eyes scanned the entirety of your body before he slipped the headphones down to his neck and spoke.

“I almost didn’t recognize you without your preppy headband, all that makeup, and those stupid earrings you always wear,” he muttered.

Okay, low blow. The downside to wearing school uniforms is that you lose a lot of your individuality, and the school rules limit what you can and cannot wear. In fact, students had to fight for the right to accessorize until the ban was lifted. You personally enjoyed wearing tons of different earrings from hoops, to waterfalls and of course you felt a nice headband would draw together your academia look. Both were your signatures and makeup was just a given at such a fancy school.

“I’d insult you back but honestly you look a lot less annoying when you’re not wearing that preppy uniform jacket filled with pins and patches,” you snapped back.

“Whatever, I never said it was meant to be an insult,” he mumbled before gesturing for you to come look at his computer screen.

“I’ve been working on the first draft for the welcome week pages. I think we should follow this layout and theme for the rest of the yearbook. I’m submitting it to Mr. Park,” said Jeno.

You looked over the screen as Jeno waited for your feedback. “I like my version better,” you said after a few minutes.

“Your version? Let’s see it then,” he urged. You took a USB keychain that hung with the rest of your keys out of your bag and connected it to the computer before leaning over Jeno and pulling up the file. He shifted his chair backwards to give you room, and sat back as he admired you from behind. It wasn’t until you spoke to him again that you realized what he was doing.

“How does it look?” you asked as the document loaded onto the screen.

“Real good...” he said as his voice dropped an octave. You turned your head to face him, catching him with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and his eyes still set on your backside before he drew them up to meet your gaze and flashing you a cheeky smile that turned his eyes into crescent moons.

“Stop being a perv and come look,” you said sternly as you changed your position, lowering yourself to your knees by the monitor. Jeno scooted his chair forward again before looking up at your work. Within seconds he had a series of critical comments spilling from his mouth thus triggering a heated argument between the two of you.

“You know what? I’m tired of going back and forth with you. Let’s just send both to Mr. Park and see which one he likes best,” he challenged. You were both on your feet now and standing toe to toe like you did yesterday during your face off.

“Fine,” you accepted. Jeno sent the files off and the two of you drifted off into other work. You were both working in the dark room, developing some film, when you heard the faint sound of an email notification ring out from the monitor in the room next door. You and Jeno immediately looked at each other before frantically wrapping up your work and rushing to the computer.

The two of you were huddled closely by the screen when Jeno clicked on the email to reveal its contents. You both silently read the screen before you were overcome with disappointment

Mr. Park: Hey President’s. Both look great and would work perfectly with this years Yearbook but if you want my personal opinion, I think I’m leaning more towards Jeno’s! Great work so far and kudos for being so productive on a Saturday! Reach out if you need anything.

You groaned as you stood back up. Jeno chuckled next to you.

“Congratulations, you win again,” you snapped at him. He was so caught off guard by your tone that his smile fell from his face immediately and was quickly replaced by a smug expression.

“Is that all that matters to you?” he asked raising his voice, “winning?”

You were toe to toe for the third time now and it was really starting to get on your nerves because Jeno was built and tall and something about him looking down on you made this stupid position even more annoying for you.

“One thing! You couldn’t just let me have this one thing!” you yelled back.

“Oh... my... GOD. You are unbearable!” Jeno groaned as he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“You want to know why I couldn’t let you have this one thing?” he started, leaning down closer to your face. He was inches from you now and his breath danced across your lips when he spoke.

“Because... you’re such a fucking brat. Every time you whine and complain all I can think about is filling up this pretty mouth so I don’t have to hear your voice anymore,” he said through gritted teeth, reaching his hand up to your chin.

“And your face... the look on your face every time i beat you at something or take something away from you... the way your eyes get big and teary, and the way you pout your lips like you’re doing right now” he continued, running his index finger across your bottom lip.

“Nothing turns me on more than taming you like this,” he whispered. Your body shivered under his touch. You were fuming on the inside at his words. They hurt. Yet you were also feeling things you had never felt before. Your eyes scanned Jeno’s face, along his lips and eyes and his jawline. Your nipples hardened underneath the cotton material of your shirt. Jeno noticed. You fought back tears of frustration as one slipped down your cheek, cursing yourself for being so turned on at a moment like this.

“Don’t cry, baby girl,” Jeno muttered as he took his free hand to wipe away at the tear as his other hand cradled your cheek. Your hands were balled into fists at your sides and you stood frozen in your spot.

“You’ve been so worried about me ruining you, but maybe that’s exactly what you need to get rid of that attitude...hmm?” he murmured.

“I-I hate you,” you sputtered out, sounding more whiney than angry. Jeno let out a breath of air as the corner of his mouth turned up into a brief smile. He stepped closer to you and you stepped back until you were trapped against a table.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled as he hovered his lips dangerously close to yours, eyes searching yours for any sign of resistance. You broke eye contact with him as your gaze settled on his lips. You subconsciously licked your own as you blinked away the remainder of the dampness in your eyes.

You didn’t notice the way you gravitated towards his lips like a magnet until he leaned away from you slightly and your lips chased after his -- not letting the distance grow too much. Your eyes were still glued to his lips which had formed into a smug grin when you noticed how you had chased after his lips like a needy girl just as you felt the first wave of heat rush to your face.

“Just as I thought...” he muttered as one of his hands dropped to your waist and you felt him tighten his grip ever so slightly. Jeno ran his hand down the side of your body, trailing his fingers along your thighs before running his hands back up again -- this time gripping the bare skin of your waist underneath your graphic tee.

You sucked in air when his warm hands came in contact with your skin. His eyes were glued to your face and his expression showed a slight hint of darkness. Jeno gripped your waist with both hands firmly before suddenly lifting you off the floor to sit on the edge of the table you had been trapped against.

You let out a gasp as your butt landed on the cool surface, leaving you seated with Jeno standing between your legs. He bridged the gap between you by stepping closer and pulling you by your hips -- until every part of you was pressed against him. Your hands flew up to his chest to stop you from literally crashing into his chiseled torso.

You accidentally let out a breathy moan when your crotches met -- feeling Jeno pressed against your center, leaving only the thin material of your biker shorts and your undies between your bodies. Jeno bit his bottom lip in response and rolled his lips once more, making you whimper and sending your hands sliding from his chest down to his waist. You hesitated but your hand placement was a dead giveaway that you wanted more friction. Jeno pulled at your hips one more time as he met your center with another stroke. You felt wetness begin to pool between your legs and tightened your grip on his waist. This time it was you who pulled him forward but he froze just before your bodies could properly connect again as you desperately tried to rut yourself against him.

“Look at me,” he ordered. Your gaze immediately locked with his, eyes wide and lips pouted, a bit frustrated that he had stopped moving.

“Good girl... Didn’t think you’d listen to me so well the first time,” he said, rewarding you with another roll of his hips. You groaned at the contact.

“F-first time?” you question, rolling your hips to meet his as his breathing became more unstable.

“It’s gonna be a long year, baby,” he started, “We have to work together, so it’s my responsibility to calm you down when you get all bratty.”

There was something really sexy about the way you both managed to continuously grind against each other in pure ecstasy while having a full blown conversation, speaking between moans and grunts.

“I’m n-not a brat, you’re just an asshole,” you snapped as you crossed your legs at your ankles, pulling him against you even harder.

Jeno cursed under his breath at the friction as his hands reached down to grip at your ass before mumbling, “only person who thinks i’m an asshole is you,” he taunted, “you on the other hand are widely known for acting like a complete...”

You interrupted him with another roll of your hips, as a groan slipped from his lips. “Choose your next words carefully, Jeno,” you warned.

he chuckled before finishing his almost forgotten sentence, “princess... that’s what you’re known for. For acting like such a fucking princess,” he groaned.

Jeno wasn’t entirely wrong. You did strive for excellence when it came to your common interests in academics and extracurriculars. In fact, a pet peeve of yours was the fact that you and Jeno were always compared to each other, with most of the school being shocked that two people who were so alike seemed to always be at war with each other. In everyone else's eyes you were both one in the same.

Though you were respected, you weren’t delusional. There were definitely people who weren’t fond of you, but you had chalked it up to mere jealousy that was inevitable for a person who excelled as much as you did to experience. Jeno must have noticed your mind wandering because he lifted your chin slightly to direct your attention back to him muttering a soft “hey...” as he snaked his free hand up your shirt, hands brushing against your bare breast.

You moaned when you felt his fingers tease your sensitive nipple. “Whats wrong with being a princess? People only call me that because they’re jealous,” you questioned. You had definitely begun to soak through your shorts, as you watched a faint wet patch begin to show on Jeno’s joggers. You gripped at the collar of his shirt as he dropped his head down to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses all over the delicate skin.

“F-fuck,” you groaned at the contact, hips jerking.

“Exactly,” jeno said, lifting his head to lock his eyes with you again. “They’re jealous of how powerful you are... but that’s exactly what turns me on,” he confessed.

He ran his hands along your cheek, leaning in to a whisper. “Do you know how hard it makes me when I think about turning the most powerful girl in school into a powerless mess?” Jeno tugged at one of your nipples as he finally drew your mouth into his for a kiss. You whimpered into his mouth, overcome with pleasure.

Jeno deepened the kiss and for once you just allowed him to take control. As much as you hated him, you couldn’t deny that his energy was intoxicating and yes, maybe you were a little bit jealous of him for the same reasons as others were jealous of you.

How could you not be attracted to someone who was as driven and talented and equally, if not even more powerful than you were in that regard. As much as you butt heads there was no doubt that you were very much a good fit for each other-- if all the fighting and competition were set aside, that is. But this didn’t matter right now. All that mattered was the way he was making you feel. It was as if though all those years of tension had finally bubbled over.

Jeno’s tongue swirled against yours sloppily, just the way you liked. Even your bodies seemed to be on the same page. He pulled away from you after a few minutes of making out -- leaving a trail of spit hanging from your lips to his as he lifted you off the table and carried you over to one of the couches in the lounge area of the room.

The sun had already begun to set ages ago, and only the faint hint of the computer screens you had been working on were illuminating the room. Jeno sat on the couch with you straddling his lap as he pulled his shirt over his head. You did the same and soon enough you were both left topless. Jeno wasted no time drawing you towards him and trapping a nipple between his lips as he palmed your other breast. You arched your back into him letting his name spill from your mouth.

He kissed his way back up your chest as he pulled you in for a kiss.

“Mmm.. Need all of this gone,” he said as he pulled at your shorts. You got up from his lap, and he immediately began to peel off the remainder of your clothing, dragging the material down the length of your body.

His breath hitched as he stripped you of your shorts to reveal your white cotton thong. He brushed his fingers softly against the material before mumbling to himself, “cute...”

His fingers ran against your slit, feeling the damp material under his touch and making you grow weak in the legs.

“You’re so wet for me already... Such a good girl,” he said. Hearing words of praise fall from his lips like that made you feel so soft. For some reason, compliments hit different when they came from him. Your eyes drifted to the growing bulge in Jeno’s joggers.

Your mouth fell open with the sudden desire to be filled with as much of him as you could fit as you slowly fell to your knees. Jeno raised his eyebrows while he watched you intently. You tapped your fingers against his knee, “off, please” you said as you pulled at the strings in the waistband of his bottoms.

“Fuck, do you know how good you look on your knees for me?” he said as he lifted his hips to get rid of the rest of his clothing. Your eyes went wide when he finally settled back into his seat and began stroking his length while analyzing your expression.

For once you couldn’t blame him for the arrogant expression on his face. He had every right to be proud of what he was packing.

“Ugh, is every part of you perfect?” you complained as you scooted closer to him. You dragged your fingernails along his thighs as he drew his bottom lip between his teeth again. Your fingers danced dangerously close to his member as he slowed the movement of his hand before letting go of himself.

You wrapped your hand around him, shocked at how much bigger he looked between your fingers. He throbbed and raised his hips slightly, thrusting up into your first. “Needy...” you teased, looking up at him as you giggled softly.

“Y/n” he whimpered, a bit embarrassed at the sounds leaving his mouth now that you had momentarily gained the upper-hand. Jeno watched as you pressed your tongue to the slit of his cock before popping the head right into your mouth and sinking down around his length in one go, bottoming out.

Your lips were wrapped around the very base of his cock when you moaned around him, making your entire mouth vibrate.

“Holy shit,” he moaned loudly as he reached out a hand to draw circles on your cheeks while you worked at his length. You lifted your mouth all the way back, as his hips jerked forward again, fucking into your mouth as another whimper fell from his mouth. Your eyes were locked in his and you couldn’t believe how different he looked. His hard expression had gone soft. You had definitely managed to strip him momentarily of his power.

“So naughty - where’d you learn - to use your mouth like this- huh, princess?” he asked between thrusts. Your eyes watered but you continued to let him use your mouth as you watched him grow more desperate.

You removed him from your mouth with a pop as you pumped at his length fast. Jeno cursed under his breath before letting his head fall back on the couch for a moment.

“Gonna c-cum,” he warned.

“Look at me,” you ordered and Jeno obeyed.

You locked eyes as you delivered the final pumps, and waited with your mouth open and your tongue out as you felt him throb underneath your grip before spurts of his warmth shot up -- spilling onto your tongue and dripping from your lips down your chin. The remainder of his cum had spilled over onto your fingers, and you released him to pop them into your mouth to clean them off.

You were aimlessly licking and sucking at your fingers, caught up in your own world when you noticed Jeno staring at you, chest rising and falling with a surprised expression on his face.

“Hmm?” you hummed as you titled your head, wondering if everything was okay. Jeno, who had just cum harder than he ever had in his life was in pure disbelief at how you sat so calmly and managed to look so sweet and innocent with his cum dripping down your chin as you suckled at your own fingers. The sight alone made him start to grow hard almost instantly.

After a few seconds he snapped out of it, leaning forward and cupping your cheek in his hand like he had been all night.

“D-don’t think I’m letting you win that easily,” he muttered. He motioned for you to get off your knees, and he drew you in for a kiss as he repositioned you both on the couch so he would be on top of you. You seemed to have sparked the competitive fire within him.

Jeno hadn’t expected you to switch on him like that and he was determined to follow through on his promise of ruining you.

He trailed kisses down your body, skipping your pelvic region to drop kisses along your thighs as he peeled off your panties.

“I’m sorry but I won’t be going easy on you... not after what you just did,” he warned as he pushed apart your thighs. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your center and it drove you insane.

Jeno carried out the first lick along the length of your slit and it was enough to have you moaning and immediately roping your hands in his hair. You had been turned on for so long that even the slightest touch felt like heaven.

He flicked his tongue against your entrance, muttering to himself about how great you taste, teasing you as your clit yearned for attention. He worked at your flesh, dipping his tongue in between the folds of your center before prodding at your hole and slipping his tongue inside. You tried to move your hips against his mouth but he firmly held you in place.

“Jeno, p-please,” you pleaded. He smiled against your skin as he continued to dip his tongue into your hole, driving you closer to the edge but still not quite getting you there.

“Whats wrong, princess?” he taunted before running his tongue up the length of your slit, once again avoiding your clit. You whimpered, reaching your hand down to feel yourself before he roped his fingers in yours to stop you. He lightly flicked his tongue against your clit, just enough to send electricity running through your body but still not enough to please you entirely.

“I want to hear you beg for it,” he said as he blew air softly against your center, the sensitivity was overwhelming. He planted a soft kiss directly on top of your clit that would have melted your heart a bit if you weren’t so violently horny at this point. So instead, your hips jerked against the plushy feeling of his pursed lips. Jeno chuckled at your body’s reaction, before repeating the action -- drawing the same result.

After the third peck landed on your clit, and the third jerk of your hips sent you into a frenzy, you simply couldn’t resit any longer.

Tears pooled at the corner of your eyes, and words spilled endlessly from your mouth. “Please, Jeno.. fuck, please let me cum. I’m d-desperate,” you confessed as your hips raised off of the couch, and he pulled away teasingly watching you squirm beneath him.

“How would you like to cum, baby?” he asked.

“I need to feel you inside of me,” you pleaded before adding a soft “please” to the end of your sentence.

You watched Jeno position himself at your entrance before stopping.

“i’m on the pill, we don’t need --,” you assured him, reading his expression.

He groaned straight away, interrupting you before you could finish as his mind drifted to places he was too ashamed to admit. He ran his head along your slit, making you twitch before he entered you with a quick snap of his hips, bottoming out immediately and forcing a scream from your lips.

You weren’t sure what to expect from Jeno but it definitely wasn't this. He angled himself perfectly, propping you up so he was hitting all the right places as he pounded into you relentlessly. Within a single minute you were both racing towards your orgasms.

“I’m close,” he murmured as he planted a kiss to your lips.

“Me too,” you answered, “one last thing...” you said as he continued to thrust into you at a delicious pace.

“Hmm.. what is it, baby?” he asked. You locked eyes with him, feeling quite shy at your next words.

“F-fill me up, please. I want you to cum inside of me, really really badly,” you whimpered and with a final groan at your unexpected demand, you felt Jeno’s warmth spill all over your insides, sending you right over the edge and leaving your insides contracting against him. The two of you remained exactly how you were for awhile.

Jeno was the first to move after catching his breath. He slowly slipped out of you with a breathy moan before lowering himself towards your center and softly licking at your folds even though they were covered in his own cum.

“Shit, i’m sorry... I barely made it to the end of your sentence before letting go,” he chuckled as he lapped at your skin.

“JENO” you shrieked as an unexpected orgasm rushed through you again when he flattened his tongue against your entire slit and you found yourself moving against his mouth in seek of more pleasure. You pushed his head away as you clenched your legs together feeling a mixture of both pleasure and agony run through your body.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry... last one, i promise” he laughed as he moved to your face to plant soft kisses on your cheeks and a peck on your lips. It took you a while to come back from your high.

it was a bit late when you guys had finally cleaned up and locked the school back up. Jeno had driven you home in his new Volvo which he tried to convince you was a totally normal back to school gift, and had texted you for the remainder of the night about things like yearbook, and homework. It almost seemed as though what had happened was merely a dream.

It wasn't until you were back at school on Monday that you realized that going back to normal was going to be impossible. You and Jeno still bickered over Yearbook decisions and didn’t hesitate to challenge each other during class debates but things had changed. Every annoying exchange you had simply fuelled your desire more.

You’d get into intense match ups only to find yourselves coming up with excuses about Yearbook club to sneak out of class for quickies in Jeno’s car. He even had his way with you more times than you could count across his desk in the office he was awarded after becoming student body president. At first it was fun -- your adrenaline would pump at the thought of sneaking around so much but then things slowly started to shift again.

Soon, you would spend afternoons at his freaking massive mansion of a family home where you guys would go over yearbook work. When you didn’t have yearbook work to do, he began inviting you over for study sessions, and to do homework -- all of which would end in amazing sex. Soon those invites extended to regular hangouts for no particular reason but to enjoy each others company and you found yourself drifting away from casual hookups to something that felt heavier -- more serious.

The final nail in the coffin was when Jeno let your little secret slip after getting so worked up in a class discussion. You had been discussing the symbolism of a film you had just watched for an english class when you began to clash.

“Baby, that makes no sense,” he mumbled after you had shared your opinion. He was doodling aimlessly on his notebook. The entire class went wide eyed, and a few gasps were let out.

“Actually, it makes perfect s--” you began before freezing. You had just noticed his mistake, and everyone had noticed yours which was how the pet name didn’t seem to phase you at all. Luckily Mr. Park quickly moved on to another topic as you both sat cursing yourselves silently.

After the final bell rang for the day, you locked eyes with Jeno.

“Idiot,” you mouthed. He offered you a sheepish grin in return as he approached your desk.

“I’m sorry, it slipped,” he began, “but now that every knows..” Jeno, slipped his arm around you as you entered the hallway. Most students minded their business, which you were grateful for while others stared and whispered.

“I have a student body meeting for the next hour... you have debate team right?,” he said as you approached an intersecting series of hallways. You nodded.

“I’ll meet you outside then, and we can go to mine to go over the photographer schedules for this months events,” Jeno said.

“Sounds good,” you responded before turning on your heels to head in the opposite direction. Jeno’s grip on your wrist had him tugging you back towards him.

He stood above you with an annoyed expression on his face, pouting. He pulled your face close to his, mumbling about you being heartless before he planted a lingering kiss on your lips, of course drawing the attention of onlookers. Your cheeks were on fire when he pulled back, leaving you flustered and a bit embarrassed as he shot you a final wink before checking his watch and rushing off to his meeting. You turned around to head to debate club, wondering how exactly your biggest enemy had turned into the sweetest, most caring lover you could have ever asked for.

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medicdoodles · 3 years

Text

Dritchet / (Dratchet) week day seven prompt: (Free Space: Redemption). The last one from last year a bit longer no beta.

Drift and Ratchet finally talk and Drift tries to redeem himself.

(Part 1) | (Part 6)

As I run to his aid, fighting against the demon army Megaton from another dimension as sculpted to his perfection. A light passes through my body and to my spark, it's touch so soft and gentle, it feels as though I return to the Well. Each cord and cable trill in excitement, and the electricity escapes to my fingers. Yet, I only feel peace, as this light warps me.

With no more time to spare I continue my sparks mission to reach him. Drawing my blades to cut those that would stop. A powerful streak slices the very air in front of me. The enemy's shadow fall before they could even spare a moment to look at me, and I glide through all of Iacon looking for traces of him.

My path leads to the Primordial Landing Pad where I see Megatron, a shadow of him, Prime and his crew. They defeated Megatron's shadow and standing behind all of Bumblebee's troop of friends is he, my Ratchet. While all I wish to do is lock our gaze at each other, I feel the draw of my old master press against my chest.

Oppressive, sharp, and collared. Should I turn around to face him. Would he think me still his pawn if I turn to face him? "Ah Deadlock." Megatron spoke with the same monotone confidence that he always has. "Have you come to aid me yet again?"

My resolve hardened as he never turns to face me. Even now I am worth nothing to him, and now I understand that he is worth less to me. "I am here to seek redemption, not from you, but from someone who can judge me."

Only now did recognition cross Ratchet's face. His stare cold, unyielding, sharp even it pierced the very core of his spark. "If you really want to be forgiven, then don't ask me. Go to the rest of Cybertron and let them choose your punishment."

"Actually medic, we all need to repent for the crime of killing our planet." The air stills, waiting for the unspoken words to settle, everyone's gaze moves to Megaton. "I suppose now is the perfect time to do so."

The prime shifts his body to angle him, raising his hand to make a peace offering. "If you truly mean so, then Megaton let us tear down the wall and build a new together."

For the first time since I found my helm in Ratchet's care I felt the sun grace my check.

----'

Rebirth was a lot more simple a concept than penance. Then my past actions have no weight, nor meaning, dead in every sense of the word. Nothing like now, serving my punishment, having every look cast judgement, each peer that pass me adds or negates my debt for forgiveness.

However, Primus is not without mercy. He sends my knight to be him. Ratchet is still close to me, I can hear his voice, see his smile, some times relive comes in the form of his touch. This is what allows me to continue my divine journey of redemption, knowing that my actions free him of sadness, truly worth the burden.

I work alongside the master builders. Bots with the gift to craft cityscape. My place is to use my blade to level the land for repurpose, drive off any alien tech that plagues the planet, protection. Watching both sides city exist together, building a home for each other, it strange to think that this option never appeared to me before.

Of course Ratchet is here for work place injuries, even in peace he finds solace in his craft of healing, but now it is different.

Before when I would catch his being he would always carry the soul of the dead, the pain of the injured, sorrow of inadequacy. Such an unbearable anguish that I would think that he would be in the Pits instead of I, now dissipated into a bight light of love. Primus below protect me as if he could not be more stunning, his true smile is shown to the living relm and I weak to crave more.

Soon after the third town that we help bring to life, something else has changed in me. While help to make Ratchet is still much the same, I find my self content to see the bot's graduate for the sake for the sake of their own. Suddenly they were not maggots polluting the planet with their weakness, no now they were Roller, Beachcomber, Gearstick, Metalwork, Platinum Cable, or whoever else gifted me their name. It was overwhelming but rewarding to see a face and know a history, and their gaze was no longer Judgement it was Forgiveness.

"Drift?" Ratchet calls to me.

"Yeah..."

"I asked if you were enjoying the party?"

This exchange feels familiar, he had asked it to me before, but now... "Yes I was just thinking about how much has changed. How wonderful it is to see the planet heal in more was than one."

"Is that so?" He paused in his speech, the warmth on his lips flutters my spark, as he once again faces the crowd of people celebrating the newly constructed flats. "I'm glad you see it too."

Curling my digits around my face I couldn't help but ruminate my thoughts again. Sure earlier in my mind punishment was my everything but here, the idea no longer haunts me. Ratchet's forgiveness, while meaning much to me, no longer carries the dread of failure. Even if he chooses to deny me of it, it no longer stops me from being happy, was this what I wanted?

Then his wonderful light touch my lips and I look to meet him, clearly I must be dead. "You should see the look on your face, Drift."

"I don't understand surely you still hate me. I haven't earned you compassion already."

Now he accompanied his light with a divine touch and his gorgeous field crowds around me. "You've stayed in your thoughts for to long. Building three towns and all of Praxis gave me more than enough to see how you are, and other bits Judgement of you. Even Bee and Hot Rod see your effort and understand your change." His hand cup my own. "And I think I've decided the you I see now is worth trying to see if we match."

I kiss him, words they form to fast for my to try and speak. This base instinct is all my frame can do, and Primus he returns it. Our lips are not forceful, touch is gentle and when we split I feel his warmth inside me. "I suppose we can." Darling I would live for you.

#Transformers Cyberverse #ratchet #tfc ratchet #deadlock #tfc deadlock #tfc drift #drift #dritchet #dratchet #fanfic

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reapers-carino · 4 years

Text

Beauty in Simplicity ver. 2

“Itadakimasu!”

Genji’s tone was jovial, the excited grin on his face and sparkling eyes set on the large bowl of shoyu ramen in front of him. Giving a small ‘whoop’ of excitement as he pulled his chopsticks apart, he gave a quick, sympathetic glance to his older brother. Hanzo’s brow was furrowed, staring into his bowl of shio ramen with such a contemptuous look, Genji tempted to ask how the meal had offended him. Reluctantly, Hanzo finally picked up his own set of chopsticks, brusquely snapping them apart before murmuring a soft ‘itadakimasu’ and beginning to eat. Genji waited til he was a few bites in before goading him.

“Sooo…?”

Hanzo’s eyes cut towards him, his frown somehow deepening as he bit into the chashu, a brief uptick in the corners of his lips indicating that the food was chipping away at the annoyance. Now was as good a time as any to keep prying; Hanzo’s love of good food had always been the younger brother’s way of cheering his brother up, alcohol coming in as a close second. As Hanzo’s eyes drifted back to the bowl, he grunted as Genji nudged him, wearily turning his gaze towards his younger sibling. Genji had taken several bites out of the tender pork belly from his own bowl and held it up so it looked like a goofy pork-based smile, wriggling his eyebrows at his brother playfully. Hanzo couldn’t help the choked off snort he made, the ridiculousness of the image drawing a small half smile onto his lips as he placed his chopsticks down on the tiny stand beside his bowl. Releasing a low growling sigh, Hanzo knew that Genji would not cease in his attempts to cheer him up until he finally spilled the beans on what was wrong.

“Let’s finish our meal and then we can talk”, he sighed, picking up his chopsticks once more and beginning to scarf down the noodles.

Hanzo couldn’t deny the delicious saltiness of the broth and the chewiness of the noodles were having an effect on him, slowly pulling him out of his dour mood and gently nudging him towards simply being cross. As he drank the last of the broth and bits of bean sprouts and garlic down, Hanzo allowed the warmth to spread throughout his body, breathing in deep and letting out a quiet exasperated sigh. Glancing to the side, his brother had drained both his broth and the sickeningly sweet melon soda he chose to go with it, looking at his brother looking at him with expectant puppy dog eyes. Tapping down on the urge to chuckle, Hanzo gave an over exaggerated sigh as he began his story.

“I had a meeting with the board this morning…”

Genji gave a brief suck of his teeth, a scowl tugging at his lips briefly before his smile returned, smaller and sympathetic. Neither one of them were strangers to the board, better known to them as the elders, the near omnipresent, insufferable hivemind of the Shimada-gumi. Gently patting his older brother on the shoulder, he gave it a brief good natured squeeze before responding.

“So how did that go?”

Earlier that day

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me today.”

Hanzo’s voice was warm, yet professional, the light of the holoscreen gently bouncing off of his skin in the dimmed room. His expression was neutral but not blank, the ghost of a simpering smile tugging at the corners of his lips but never rising into a true one. Shoulders back, posture straight but not stiff, his whiskey brown eyes giving the room a brief once over before continuing. Fake pleasantries and niceties were expected of anyone coming before the board and he was no different, even as the heir to the Shimada Conglomerate. Although, Hanzo wished he could have expected the same from the board. He could see several of the elders at the table flicking through the information transmitted to each of their datapads as they had entered the room, some actually reading the inscribed text while others stared at him, wrinkled faces set in a permanent frown. Years of training, school work and private lessons had led to this moment and he wasn’t going to let their lingering doubts of him deter him from victory.

Motioning at the screen, the beginning of his proposal popped up, simply titled ‘Partnership Program between Shimada Conglomerate and Caledonia, Co’. He heard the start of agitated murmurs begin around the table before motioning towards the screen once more and going to the next slide. It held images of both the Shimada Conglomerate’s main building in the heart of Hanamura and the shining new Ashe, Inc building located in Albuquerque, New Mexico. The next motion he made zoomed in on the section for Ashe, Inc. as he began to go through the history and details of the company.

“Caledonia Co. was started five years ago and is a subsidiary of the larger Ashe Inc. located in Sante Fe”, Hanzo said simply, watching as the facts illuminated on the screen before disappearing and being replaced with information from the company’s annual financial report. “They are currently the quickest growing modular home providers within the American southwest with projected earnings for the year predicted to be just under one billion dollars. There also have been whispers of the company securing a US federal contract with the United States Department of Housing and Urban Development to create homes for those still impacted by the Omnic Crisis.”

Pausing briefly, Hanzo glanced over the crowd, a small root of uneasiness swiping at his heart as not one board member looked the least bit intrigued by the company. Still, Hanzo refused to succumb to this adversity, flicking to the next screen with bulleted and referential lines about the benefit of partnering with the North American company.

“The Shimada modular manufacturing subsidiary, Sparrow is both well-known and highly respected within the Japanese market”, Hanzo started, showing the earnings for the company in the last three years before swiping and overlapping that with predicted earnings that could happen if they expanded into other markets. “But we are lacking any power in markets outside of Eastern Asia, meaning we are not realizing Sparrow’s full potential. It is estimated that despite our current hold on the market we may begin to experience 2 to 3 percent profit declines regularly over the next decade due to field competitors and possible housing declines.”

“We do have the opportunity to turn that around”, Hanzo stated as he again showed prospective growth if they partnered up, the charts morphing to show off his estimations. “By supplying the North American company with our modular manufactured materials, we have the potential to grow both companies profits as well as have an established name in North America backing the growth of the Sparrow company into that region.”

The loss of profit statement had earned him a scoff or two, the older members stubbornly believing that the Shimada’s hold on the Japanese market was impervious to competition or outside influence. It had been the Shimada-gumi that had led the underground into helping Japan in its most dire hour during the war; providing housing, clothing, medicine, food and non-perishables as well as shelter across for their countrymen. Hanzo’s father and grandfather had spearheaded those projects almost twenty years ago, transforming the Shimada-gumi from small Yakuza-run businesses into the conglomerate powerhouse with hands in almost all facets of modern society. When the god program was eventually pushed back under sea, the Shimada’s and their supporters and allies were the one that rebuilt Japan and in turn had earned the idolatry of their countrymen. The Shimada name was looked at with adoration and reverence, the name conjuring up images of Japanese resilience and charity in the face of animosity.

And while all that was true, they forgot that a new generation of consumers was being born, ones that were not as indebted to the Shimada name as the prior generation. People born on the cusp of the war did grow up hearing of all of their good deeds, but their attentions were fickle and easily wavered to newer, bigger things. While they would have a market to sail on for some time, it was not enough to maintain the current state of affairs and so Hanzo would try and better them. Even if it meant further catering to their more immoral heartstrings.

“Caledonia is also the largest black market weapon supplier in the entirety of North America”, he stated pointedly, pressing another button to fully lock down any possible leaks in the room. “Caledonia is headed by Elizabeth Ashe, daughter of the heads of Ashe, Inc. Although expunged and sealed, my sources were able to find that she had a record of gang activity that was previously connected to the Deadlock Gang. It appears her tenure with the gang never ended and she instead looked for clearer avenues in which to support and conduct business.”

The surprised looks and murmurs that rippled through the room almost made Hanzo smile for real, the man relishing the ball of pride that fluttered in his chest as he went through the rest of the presentation showing the profits that could grow for both their legitimate and illegitimate markets. The final page was marked with a simple question mark, the lights in the room coming up as he looked over the faces of the elders before finally landing on his father’s. Sojiro was the expert at guarding his true emotions, his eyes locking with his son before snapping down to the datapad that was used for each board meeting. Encrypted and only accessible through both fingerprint and retinal scanning, a security measure that ensured if any information got out, it would have to have come from within.

“If you would like a more detailed breakdown”, he began, reaching at the front of the long boardroom table and pulling up his own datapad. “Please take a look through these pages. I am happy to answer any questions.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Hanzo’s hands tightened around his datapad, lips ticking downward ever so slightly as his eyes pulled to Shoto Yamamoto. He was a portly balding older man seated near his father, his official title being Shimada’s general counsel. Unofficially, he was one of the saiko-komon of the Shimada-gumi, his father’s most trusted advisor and provider of counsel to the entire clan. The Yamamoto family’s allegiance went all the way back to the start of the 20th century, the two families intertwined by blood spilt and fraternity. With the exception of his father, Yamamoto held the biggest sway over the counsel and what they approved or rejected. One by one, Hanzo watched as the members turned their datapad’s off, eyes glancing at Hanzo before sliding back to Yamamoto.

“The board appreciates the time you took to present this”, Yamamoto began, the condescending intonation on ‘appreciates’ making the back of Hanzo neck burn with annoyance. “But the Shimada Conglomerate doesn’t need foreigners interfering with their affairs. Quite frankly, it’s disheartening to think your confidence, not only in the company, but also in our loyal consumers and stockholders, is so low.”

“My confidence in the company has never waivered”, Hanzo snipped back, tone tight as he placed the datapad down. Yamamoto had swiped at the lowest hanging fruit; doubt for the company, and by extension the clan, was an offense that could be punishable by death or expulsion. The accusation was weak, at best, but it shined an ambivalent light on Hanzo’s intention with the project. “My family toiled for generations to build this business into the pinnacle that it is today. I do not want to see it diminish due to the inability to adapt. The risk we face if we do not acclimate to changing times is much higher than the loss we would suffer if we do not. As I stated, the numbers--”

“And as I said we do not need any interference from some ridiculous American company”, Yamamoto snipped before leaning as far forward as his stomach would allow. He steepled his fingers briefly as he looked around at other heads of the family, inclining his head as he looked at Sojiro. “I think I can speak for all of us when I say that while...ambitious, your presentation was wholly unnecessary. When and if we begin to lose profits, we will handle it as we always have. Internally. Is there anyone that objects to this?”

Hanzo listened to the murmurs that rose up from other members, eyes darting over to the future CEO nervously before looking back to Sojiro and then Yamamoto. It felt clear who they felt they were loyal to, his allegiance, ideas and future position not yet strong enough to sway those who sat on the fence to his side. Hanzo’s lips pursed together tightly, the entire back of his neck flushing in anger. Hanzo intended for this project to be his magnum opus, an idea that would show that he was not only deserving but ready to take over the role of CEO when his father finally abdicated the position.

Hanzo had worked tirelessly to prove that he was the heir the company deserved. He had gained his Masters in Business Administration by the time he was twenty-three, but the young scion had been interning and shadowing his father since the young age of sixteen. His father had made sure he had experienced every aspect of working for the conglomerate; Hanzo shadowing mail clerks, administrative assistance, accountants, marketing assistants and even human resources. All this while still maintaining his grades in school, practicing several sports and martial arts with his brother and taking care of any jobs that the clan required. This wasn’t the first time that he had come to them with proposals; his partnership with several of the nation’s biggest trade schools providing their prefabrication and metal fabrication warehouses with a constant stream of skilled workers. It would seem, however, that he still had not earned the respect that he was owed.

Taking in a slow breath, Hanzo gave a short, stiff bow as members of the board began to stand, the dozen men filtering out of the room slowly. Some stopped and gave Hanzo an apologetic pat on the shoulders, others shaking their head in unspoken disappointment. The chagrin he felt was sickening; head racing as he tried to figure out a way to amend his blunder, to find the mistake or shortfalling he had made so he could correct it. Failure was not an option. He had worked too hard, done too much. His stomach tightened into a ball, the creep of anxiousness in his chest slowly squeezing at his lungs as he drew in a shuddering breath. His eyes narrowed on the black marble floors, the swirling white in them blurring then vaguely coming back into focus.

“Hanzo.”

Hanzo’s eyes darted from the floor to his father, the breath caught in his throat coming out as a half-cough. Sojiro’s brow was minutely pinched, the concern he held for his son barely contained by the professionalism his position required. Standing straighter, Sojiro approached his son, gently placing a hand on his shoulder before motioning towards the door, clearly meaning to escort his son back to his office. A ghost of a smile touched Hanzo’s lips as he nodded, gathering his materials before starting towards the door, his father following close behind.

Sojiro had grown softer in his older years, his wife’s brush with death completely transforming him into a man that actually cared about his sons’ well-beings and not just the future they could provide. Yua Shimada had been a safe space for both of the Shimada sons’, each finding brief reprieve in her presence before they were thrown back into training or schooling or dueling. She emphasized how she cared for their mental well-being first and foremost, that she would love them despite what they did for the clan. Often Genji took advantage of this unwavering love, hiding behind their mother when punishment was to be enforced, Hanzo not wanting to burden his mother with any wrath incurred from his father, trainers or tutors. Hanzo often took the brunt of the anger for not ‘keeping his brother in line’, their younger years filled with quiet resentment and constant bickering.

It took their mother falling ill and entering the hospital during Hanzo Masters program for the family to mend, the men of the family rushing to be at Yua’s side as she was diagnosed with stage two COPD. Her lung function had fallen to 60 percent, a respiratory infection combined with years of smoking leaving her lungs extremely vulnerable. While they wasted no expense in her care, the situation remained extremely precarious for an entire month, both Hanzo, Genji and their father all taking a leave of absence from school and employment so that they could be at her side. Each night when they left their mother’s side, Hanzo and Genji would seek one another's company; drinking, dueling, gaming, anything to get their minds off of her frail body laying in that bed. Their father would even occasionally join them, silent and watching but with no malice in his gaze. Reconciliation was slow but solidified the healthier Yua got, the trials of almost losing their matriarch creating a strong bond amongst them all.

“So Hanzo…”

Hanzo gave a small sigh as he came to a stop, his father taking a few more steps before turning to look at his son. Sojiro’s dark eyes were calm yet prying as he looked his son over, gently rubbing at his goatee as he studied the boy, Hanzo suddenly feeling like he was under a magnifying glass. Clearing his throat, Sojiro tilted his head towards the datapad that Hanzo held in his hand, Hanzo glancing downward before his brow furrowed as he looked up.

“What do you plan to do with that proposition of yours?”

Hanzo blinked once then twice before his incredulity wrinkled his brow even more, shaking his head and staring at his father in confusion.

“What do you mean”, Hanzo inquired, tone bordering exasperation and his eyes bore into his father’s. “The board has rejected it, there is nothing I can do.”

“Disappointing”, Sojiro sighed as he turned on his heel and began his walk back towards the offices. “I expected more from you…”

In The Present

Hanzo’s face burned with quiet shame, staring down hard at the black iced coffee Genji had ordered for him as he divulged the tale, the same uneasiness at failure creeping into his stomach.

“Well”, Genji questioned, stretching out the word and looking at his brother excitedly, the younger Shimada practically bouncing in his seat.

“Well what”, Hanzo asked, brow furrowing deeper as his brother looked at him with wide, enthusiastic eyes. “The board shot down all my plans and father is disappointed in me, what else is there?”

The words left an acrid taste in his mouth, lips ticking down even more as Genji rolled his eyes and grabbed his brother by the shoulders.

“For someone so smart you can be so blind”, Genji sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically as Hanzo glared at him. He was unsure if his brother was trying to earn his ire but if he was, he was doing a good job at it. Forcing Hanzo to turn and look him directly in the eyes, Genji’s gaze grew slightly serious. “Didn’t you get what father was trying to tell you? Do it anyway! Fuck what the board says!”

Hanzo’s jaw dropped, mouth opening and closing several times before he found the words, confusion and disbelief fighting in equal measure.

“What do you mean fuck the board”, Hanzo hissed out, hands closing then opening as if they held the words themselves. “I can’t just dismiss what the board says. And how?! You expect me to just ignore the elders like y--”

Hanzo bit back his words but Genji rolled his eyes as he stared down his older sibling.

“Like me”, Genji finished for him, cutting Hanzo off before he could interfect or apologize. “Actually yeah, stop letting them make every single decision for you, aniki! Aht aht, don’t interrupt! Brother, you always followed what the elders said but has any of that ever made you the least bit happy?”

“Well…”

“That’s not a yes Hanzo”, Genji muttered deadpan before releasing his brother. “Think of this like Go, Han. Go has fortresses and if you play smart, what seems like an impenetrable fortress can easily be flipped or wiped out. If you do this brother and plan it out and succeed? They won’t have any choice BUT to listen to you.”

Hanzo mulled over this for several pregnant moments, lips pursed together as his mind raced over the audacious idea, warmth beginning to bloom in his chest as excitement trickled in. He may be able to pull this off. He would have no team or project manager, he wouldn’t be able to rely on the marketing department to make materials nor assistance to work alongside him. But if he took his time, he knew he could pull this off. Fate had been on Hanzo’s side when his father had him trained in every single aspect of the business, the man no expert but far from a greenhorn if the situation demanded it. If he could not only put together a business plan but also convince Ashe to meet with him in Japan, he could taste the sweet sweet flavor of not only success but he could begin to refute and rebuke the elders when the changes brought in profit. The only thing wrong…

“As much as I would like that”, Hanzo began, his Genji’s eyes growing suspicious on him. “I cannot. There is no place I can go where Shimada eyes do not follow.”

Hanzo’s shoulders began to hunch, his head drooping before he felt Genji began to shake him, elation and mischief tainting his tone as Genji force his brother to look up.

“I know just the place!”

#reapers-carino #Overwatch #Hanzo Shimada #Hanzo Shimada x Reader #yakuza hanzo #yakuza!hanzo #yakuza!genji #Overwatch AU #Hostess reader #Genji Shimada #Overwatch fan #Overwatch fanfic #Overwatch fanfiction #hanzoxreader #CEO Hanzo #shimada brothers #Timeline divergent #Sojiro shimada #Mama Shimada

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copper-wasp · 4 years

Text

Jesse McCree x Reader: Bitch Slap

And to actually no one’s surprise, I wrote a McCree smut! I am in deep with alternate universe Dante.

Rating: E

Words: 2,829

Warning Tags: Tons of that drawl of his 🥴

“Goddamnit, you nearly got me shot! What the hell’s wrong with you, McCree?” He didn’t reply, just sighed loudly and let you continue. You started pacing, adrenaline still pumping through your body, all the way down to each finger and toe.

“Look at you, with your stupid hat, and your stupid face, and your stupid poncho, and that stupid fucking belt buckle!” you were shouting at him now, anger reaching a fever pitch, and when you’d finished, your heartbeat was thundering in your ears, face heated with red hot frustration, and Jesse McCree was smirking at you.

“Don’t hold nothin’ back now, darlin’,” he finally replied, and your vision nearly blurred in fury. You wanted to slap him. So you did. A wide, arching swing that cracked against his cheek, the leather of the gloves you were wearing helping to mitigate the sting on your own skin.

The slap did wipe the smirk off his face, his brows furrowed more in disbelief that you actually hit him rather than in pain.

You raised the hand that committed the crime to cover your mouth. You gulped, but your throat had gone dry. You couldn’t believe you’d let yourself lose control like that. Yeah, McCree had almost gotten you shot - but he also protected you from the next bullet, and your eyes found the red splotch on his sleeve where it had grazed him.

“Jess... Jesse, shit, I am... so sorry, I....” Words were useless, the syllables ash on your tongue as your lips fumbled around them. McCree didn’t reply, just rubbed his own hand over his cheek, and your eyes unfocused as you thought of him. He’d taken you in after you were left with nothing but broken bones and bruises following the years of abuse by your then-husband, initiated you into Deadlock barely knowing anything more than your name, let alone if you had any useful skills, always gave you a sip of whisky from his glass, and smoked outside when you were around so it wouldn’t irritate your eyes. He was your friend, and damn near your family, and you chose to repay him this way.

You swore you didn’t breathe until the lock clicked into place, a gasping breath racking your body. You pulled off your gear, dropping it unceremoniously on the cabinet you used as a makeshift dresser, shucking off your vest and leaving it on the floor for future you to deal with, along with your gloves and boots.

You should’ve known you wouldn’t be so lucky for McCree to leave you alone, and the steady knock at your door that you heard a few minutes later wasn’t a surprise.

“Come on doll, open up,” you heard him say, muffled a little from where he stood in the hallway. Slowly you made your way back to the door, opening it to Jesse’s softly smiling face. You stepped to the side to let him in, and he pushed the door closed behind him. He’d taken off most of his gear too, including his stupid hat, and stupid poncho, and even his stupid belt buckle.

“I’m sorry,” you said before he could speak. “I’m really sorry, Jesse.”

“It’s all right. Stings like a bitch, but I’ll be fine,” he said and you cringed. “Didn’t know you had that in you. Thought those tiny hands were only good for holding your rifle.”

“Are you sure? I feel... really awful, Jess....”

“You wanna make it up to me?” he asked and you shook your head. “Why don’t you kiss it better?”

Your eyes narrowed, watching as he dipped his head down just a little and presented his still red cheek. “Really?” you replied in an unimpressed tone.

He tapped his cheek with a single finger, trying to smother the smirk that was forcing its way onto his lips. “Plant one on me, sweet thing.” You sighed, it devolving into a little breathy giggle as you stepped closer to him.

“All right then,” you said, pressing your lips to his cheek. His skin was warm and his facial hair scratched at you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You placed a hand on his neck, fingertips on his soft beard, releasing your first kiss to place a second peck just a little higher up on his cheekbone.

“There,” you said, releasing him from your grasp, “A two-for-one special.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s the stuff. I can feel the pain just meltin’ away,” he replied, clapping his hands on your shoulders. You smiled despite yourself, and you felt him slide a finger under your chin to make you look at him. “Though I think there might be somethin’ that makes me feel even better....”

He trailed off, hazel eyes locking on your lips, and you gulped again, mouth dry as bone.

“Jess-“ You were interrupted by McCree drawing you into his arms, gently shushing you. Your lips parted in offense, palms pushing against his chest. “Did you just shush me? Who do you think you... are....?” you trailed off as you felt his lips on yours, and your hands turned from pushing him away to gripping onto him, tugging onto his shirt. You realized he had removed his usual gloves when you felt his calloused hands move to the sides of your neck, deepening your kiss.

You could feel the heat radiating off of his body as he pressed a hand against the small of your back, urging you to mold yourself against him. You’d hugged him a million times in comfort, took shelter beneath his broad body if a job went pear-shaped, but you’d never truly felt him before now. Felt the solid mass of muscle that was his chest and abdomen, firm and comforting, his arms a physical match as they held you to him.

You pushed a little moan into his mouth and you felt him smile before pulling away.

“Seems like that made you feel better, too,” he remarked and you rolled your eyes.

“Shut up, Jesse,” you replied, pulling him back in for another kiss, hungry for more of him.

He could’ve easily taken control, but he let you have your way with his mouth, desire only overwhelming him when he felt your slick tongue press at the seam of his lips. His hands gripped desperately at your rear, pulling you as close to him as you could be, the swelling bulge in his pants not unnoticed.

When he met your tongue with his, warm and wet, you didn’t even mind the permanent menthol taste of it, just a needy whine escaping as he licked into your mouth. You felt his hand tug your shirt out from where it was tucked into your jeans, his fingers needing to skim over your warm flesh, falling into the dip at your spine to trace up and down the valley over and over again.

Pulling away to breathe, you said his name breathily, need written on your face. He looked in your eyes for a long moment, not going any further until a soft, desperate ‘please’ met his ears. He kissed you again, ferocity on his lips, and you slid your hands beneath his undershirt, making sure to feel him up as much as you could while you tugged the offending garment over his head.

Your eyebrows raised as you took him in; the man was built, chest covered in fine, dark hair, and you wanted to lick every inch of his skin. While you were distracted with his physique, he deftly unbuttoned your shirt, pushing it off your shoulders, his head dipping down to cover the swell of your breasts with kisses. Your fingers threaded into his hair, unconsciously tugging his locks when you felt him suck a bruise onto your skin. He grunted, a hot expel of breath on your skin, and you tried to make a note to remember to do that again later.

Your breasts were freed with ease, Jesse heaping affection on them while you tried to return his touch. You were slowly making your way over to your bed; it was small, but hopefully big enough to fit you and the cowboy.

Jesse’s fingers went to the button of your jeans and you helped to shuck them off as soon as he’d pulled down the zipper. His pants were next, hastily pushed over his bulging thighs, and you darted a hand out to steady him as he nearly tripped over them in the rush to get them off.

At last, the realization that you were nearly naked with McCree hit you and you gazed up at him, lips parting as you tried to find the right words.

“You all right?” he asked quietly, immediately noticing your hesitation. He’d always been able to read you like a book, so this time was not any different. “You wanna stop?”

You shook your head, linking your arms over his shoulders. “No, I’m just....”

“Thinkin’ too much?” he finished for you and you chuckled, absently caressing his upper back.

“Yeah, like always,” you replied and Jesse smiled down at you before his hands moved to push his boxers down off his hips. He pulled you flush against him once more, just the thin barrier of your underwear between you.

“All I’m thinkin’ about is what you do to me,” he said, voice dropping to a deliciously arousing tone, his hard length twitching against you. With a languid, parting kiss, he sat down on the edge of your bed, taking himself in hand and stroking lazily, entirely for your benefit.

Your panties practically disintegrated with how fast you pushed them down your legs, eyes glued to the thick, hot flesh being gently stroked by Jesse’s big hand. He offered you a smirk, adjusting himself so he was propped up against your pillows, groaning as he thumbed over his slit.

“Always a performer, aren’t you?” you teased, unable to stop yourself from cupping your mound, feeling the slick that had already spread onto your thighs.

“You seem to be enjoyin’ the show,” he replied with a nod, eyes drifting down to where your middle finger was parting your lips, skimming ever so lightly across your swelling nub.

You moved to the foot of the bed, reluctantly pulling your hand away from yourself, much preferring the thought of Jesse’s fingers rubbing you instead of your own.

Jesse watched with hungry eyes as you crawled up the bed towards him, continuing to tug at himself until you finally straddled his muscled thighs. He released his grip on his cock, letting it press forward against your lower belly, tip wet with precum that smeared hotly on your skin. His hands trailed fire down your sides, landing on your hips, and he gently rocked you back and forth, moving to grasp two healthy handfuls of your rear.

“You’re in control, darlin’,” he rasped out, the slight slide of his cock against your stomach already enough to stimulate him. “You do whatever you want with me.” It was exhilarating to hear him cede control so readily, but you had planned to ride him as soon as you saw his length spring out from his boxers whether he wanted you to or not.

You nuzzled your nose against his before pressing a soft kiss to his mouth, pushing up with your thighs to hover yourself over his cock. Moving a hand to help line himself up with your entrance, you were sure to look in his eyes as you slowly sunk down onto him, taking him in little by little, the stretch divine, straddling the border between pleasure and pain.

He tried to hide how you were affecting him, but lost the battle when you took the last couple inches of him at once, Jesse’s eyes squeezing shut as your hips met his. He let out a low groan, both of his hands finding purchase on your waist as you shifted ever so slightly on his lap.

Hooking your hands over his shoulders, you lifted yourself up, just enough to receive another lovely noise from him when you sunk back down.

You set a pace, lifting yourself up and grinding back down on him as hard as you could, his hands helping to support under your ass as you rode him. He was thick and hot as he slid inside you, sensitive walls getting no reprieve from his girth as it stroked every last nerve.

“Fuck, Jesse,” you hissed, thighs feeling the burn of riding him hard.

“That’s my girl, such a good girl,” he mumbled, lost in pleasure. Your nails dug into his shoulders, the feeling in your gut building with each slam down onto his lap. Moans getting more desperate, you felt his hand creep across your lower belly, thumb sliding in between your folds to press hard on your clit. “So good for me, aren’t ya?”

Your breath hitched, but your hips kept grinding smoothly against your lover, and you heard Jesse chuckle lowly.

“That’s it, gorgeous... almost there?” he asked and you nodded shakily, unable to spare the brain power to keep your eyes open when he started rubbing circles over your swollen bud. A loud moan answered his question and he repeated the motion, purposefully aiming for your release.

Thighs tensing, you bucked wildly against him as you came, bliss flooding your veins. He pulled you down against his chest, making sure you didn’t lose your balance. Jesse picked up where you left off, fucking up into you while your body was distracted with your climax. You found his lips with yours for a sloppy kiss, weaving your fingers into his soft chestnut-colored hair.

Jesse hummed when he felt your nails scratch against his scalp, and in your post-orgasm haze you somehow remembered to tug, just a little, on his locks. His reaction was immediate, a hitch of breath followed by a deep groan vibrating out from within his chest. He cursed when you pulled again, a little harder, and the grip he had on your hips became nearly vice-like.

With immense skill, Jesse pulled out and arranged you onto your back, sliding back home so quickly you didn’t even register the loss, setting a frantic pace. A mumbled request to pull his hair again, coupled with a few hard, uncoordinated thrusts, and he soon filled you with his release, his panting breaths hot on your neck.

Jesse’s hazy eyes finally focused on yours and he grinned before giving you a soft kiss. Rolling off of your spent, sweaty body, he threw an arm over your stomach as he lay next to you on his side.

You didn’t know what to say, but the silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. You hummed lightly when Jesse nuzzled against your neck, lips planting soft little kisses down your pulse point. Turning to face him, he hooked your leg over his hip, running his palm up the back of your thigh, then very slowly over your ass, before putting gentle pressure on your lower back to bring your bodies back together.

“Thanks, Jess,” you all but whispered, and heard the man snort in reply.

“No need to thank me, sweet pea, it was my pleasure,” he said, not-so-subtly pressing his hips against you.

Sighing, you narrowed your eyes at him. “Not for... that,” you said, embarrassed flush creeping over your cheeks. “For every-“

“Like I said,” Jesse interrupts, “No need, darlin’.” He kisses you, hard and soft at the same time, and you run a hand down his side as the fire in your core roars back to life. You’d barely finished coming down from your climax and you already wanted another, wanted Jesse again, wanted him to fill you up and hold you close.

You breathed out his name, his mouth moving down to bite at the curve of your shoulder, just hard enough to leave a mark, soothing over the divots he left with his tongue.

“Already want more?” the cowboy asked, and you nodded shamelessly, unable to look at him in your embarrassment. Jesse rolled you onto your back, his knees pushing your legs apart to accommodate his large form. “Look at me, would ya?”

With great effort, you opened your eyes, mischievous brown meeting your gaze. “That’s it. You ain’t gonna want to miss this,” Jesse said, words full of heat as he slid down your body, licking his lips before licking your slit, with a sinful slowness. He didn’t break eye contact, smirking up at you from between your legs.

“That’s my girl,” he said, pressing kisses to your inner thighs. “You just keep lookin’ right here, okay?”

You could only reply with a moan as he found your clit, the cowboy’s acrobatic tongue quickly driving you to bliss.

-:- -:- -:-

Thank you for reading!

Find me on:

AO3: copper_wasp

twitter: copper_wasp_

Discord: copper_wasp#1545

#overwatch #jesse mccree #mccree x reader #smut #copper-wasp writes

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cowardcouch · 5 years

Text

Apricity

Genre: Fluff, angst

Characters:Baekhyunxyou

You removed the earplugs when the car ride came to a halt . " Thanks Jongdae for dropping me home ." You smiled at him and he shook his head . " It's isn't big a deal . Moreover , I was excited to meet you ." He explained . "But I disturbed your sleep . It's going to be midnight . I-" He cut you off by hitting you on the head and you glared at him . " That's why you should go inside and annoy your boyfriend who was supposed to pick you up , not me ." You smacked his head and quickly got out of his car before he could retaliate . You stuck out your tongue at him before he drove off .

You were standing outside his house , thinking about different ways of roasting your boyfriend . You were in Paris for a week to attend an art workshop and he was supposed to pick you up today . You were so excited to see him after a week but he didn't come to see you and instead sent Jongdae to pick you up . Seeing your best friend was nice , but you wanted to see him too . You fished out the keys of the house from your purse and unlocked the door . What was inside the house was ethereal . You felt that you had opened the door to heaven . Your feet moved on their own and you closed the door behind you .

Candles were lined up on the floor on your either sides . Unfamiliar drawings with stick figures hung on the wall . You laughed as you observed each one of them ; it was as if a child was asked to draw them . The first drawing was about your first date with him . It showed a couple on a picnic who were kissing each other .The second picture was about your second date , it showed you and him playing rock , paper , scissors to decided who will pay the bill . The drawings that followed it were about your dates and special moments you shared like when both of you cooked together , when you were caught kissing in the meeting room , when you painted his face when he was asleep . You stopped when you saw a plain white sheet hung on the wall . You were momentarily surprised when you felt arms around your waist and immediately turned around to look at the culprit . " What is all this Baekhyun ?" He just smiled at you and held your hands .

" Y/F/N , thanks for giving me a second life . I had a life before but it only had space for work . Since you came , I became distracted but I don't care as long as you are the distraction . I had everything but you . I thought it was a cute little crush but it was way beyond that . When we started dating , I felt like a teenage girl who fangirls about the boy bands she loves . I just wanted to be with you all day , it was unbelievable that it was real . I found myself falling deeper in love with you each day . You are my universe and I love you so much . I just can't wait for the time when we'll have a family of our own , when we'll have kids , when we'll wear wedding rings . So Y/F/N , will you marry me ?" He kissed your hands and you saw nothing but love in his eyes . You just jumped on him , your hands around his neck and legs around his torso . " Yes ! Yes ! A million times yes !" You whispered and pecked his nose . He spun you around and kissed your forehead .

You spent the rest of the night talking about your future plans and before falling asleep , he drew a drawing of him proposing to you on the plain , white sheet .

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Your eyes widened as you saw the balls knocking down the pins . The boy danced with ecstasy and hugged his buddy . You had never tried your hand at bowling in your life . Jongdae reiterating invited you to bowling but you never were interested . Lifting the balls and then knocking down the pins , there was no sense of pleasure in that. Your interest was confined to the claw machine. As a matter of fact , you were good at it. Your dexterity with the buttons was good. The felicity you experienced after successfully picking up a toy was immense.

You had never imagined playing bowling with your fiancé. Baekhyun had been throwing tantrums and had literally dragged to the bowling arena at his hotel. He had fine bowling skills , you had heard. You were reluctant to go but then he promised to teach you. He had also challenged you to a match which you had accepted without any regret. Friendship. It is an important component of your relationship. Both of you are like best friends. Just like your relationship with Jongdae. By the way , he is ignoring you. Every time you two meet , he complains about your divided attention. He argues how you always are busy with your art gallery and your fiancé and have long forgotten your best friend. God bless you , even before marriage you have two children to look after .

"Let's go , it's our turn." Baekhyun beamed and dragged you towards the alley. He explained you basic terms like 'spare', 'frame' and 'strike'. He showed you how to grab the ball and roll it. You tried it twice and failed bot the times , your confidence immediately dropping into a pit. " Your posture is wrong sweetheart . Let me help you." He stood behind you and held you in place. His hand held the bowl and yours held onto his hand. He rolled the ball and it knocked down eight pins. You practiced twice or thrice and gave your consent to begin the challenge, the spirit of fierceness and competition inside you.

In the first frame , his score was 10 and you weren't able to change your score because you couldn't knock down any pins. Each time you rolled a ball , it drifted from the desired path to the gutter. You had no hope left and blamed this 'stupid' game. You cursed a few times but this was only about frame 1. After that a miracle happened . Your ball was able to knock down 6 pins. It put a smile on your face and invoked competitiveness in you. And then , you turned the tables. Ladies and gentlemen , welcome the dexterous rookie player ! You even scored a strike .

Baekhyun looked impressed with your skills but he didn't back down either. He scored two strikes and smirked at you. He had this smug look on face which made him look hot but then you reminded yourself not to waver and compete. By the ninth frame , it was deadlock. The game was on fire and the tension was heavy. You puffed and rolled in the ball, your fate in the hands of God . You were able to knock down 4 pins but you still kept your smile. Baekhyun flashed you a lopsided grin and rolled in the ball nonchalantly. His ball knocked down 2 pins. His eyes widened when he realized he lost and you won.

You on the other hand couldn't believe that you actually had won. You gasped and danced around happily.

" AHA ! YOU LOSER ! I WIN. YOU SURE YOU ARE NOT SCARED CAUSE I'M GONNA CRUSH YOU WITH MY SKILLS !"

Baekhyun folded his arms and raised his eyebrows at you . You covered your mouth with your hands in embarrassment .

" We're still going to get married , right ?"

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

Painting .

It was your passion. The sense of satisfaction and euphoria it gave you was profound. You never understood why people didn't enjoy painting . Your imagination gains freedom whenever you are sketching , and showing the world what is going in your little brain is fun. You never underestimated your talent and were proud of it. You never shunned any opportunity to showcase your talent. It was a palpable truth.

You scanned the painting for any faults. You were never satisfied with your own work but you were proud of it. One of your loyal customers had ordered a painting for their mansion and you had exerted yourself to create an awesome painting .You had never imagined you will ever have an art gallery of your own. You had completed your studies and Baekhyun had waited for you for those two years to propose you. Thinking of Baekhyun , you looked towards the closed bedroom door. You were curious to know what the men were talking about but you didn't wanna eavesdrop.

Baekhyun was genuinely scared. He was supposed to be the boss but was at his mercy now. He was acting like the boss and it was supposed to be the other way around. " I hope you understand , sir ." His 'sir' sounded as if he was mocking him. He slowly nodded his head and sighed in relief when Jongdae removed his hand from his shoulder. " I should get going now sir ." Jongdae smiled and left the bedroom . It was like he had dual personalities.

Jongdae smiled while looking at you . He always loved how you would stick out your tongue whenever you painted. Time was changing and he couldn't believe the fact you were getting married. He had practically raised you. You were so grown up now and had become a strong independent woman. He was happy for and proud of you. He knew that he will never ever lose you or forget you. After all , he was your best friend.

" Jongdae , you're going ? You said there was no work today." You steadied your hands on your waist and looked at him disapprovingly. "I have to go . I have some work to do . I'll come back in the evening , I promise." He kissed your forehead and left the house before you could complain.

After Jongdae left , Baekhyun came out of the room to check upon you. He saw you still painting , and tip-toed towards you. You were lost in oblivion , your concentration directed towards the painting . He hugged you from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder. You grinned and kept your brush on the palette and turned around to face him . " What were you and Jongdae talking about ?" You questioned and immediately noticed the change in his mood . "N-Nothing , just something related to work." He lied. You were skeptical but decided to forget about it and continued painting .

Jongdae's words rang in Baekhyun's head –"If you ever hurt her , cheat on her or make her cry, you will no longer be alive Mr. Byun Baekhyun."

#baekhyun fluff #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun x you #exo

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spockandawe · 5 years

Note

No one’s asked about ratchet and drift yet? If you still wanna talk about characters, I would love to hear about your impressions of them.

Ohhh, HECK yes!! I keep thinking I’m done, but then the exact perfect characters keep dropping into my inbox, and no ragrets, babey! Ratchet first, Drift in another post, but I mean... there will be significant overlap :P

First impression: Ratchet was one of the characters who stuck with me! I love the grumpy-but-compassionate archetype, and he is just... ideal. His stress over his hands wearing out stuck with me, everyone’s respect for his skill stuck with me. And the character blurb saying ‘compassionate, but not as compassionate as he once was’, THAT really hit me good.

Impression now: I keep saying ‘oh my god, I love [x]’, but it’s true XD He’s really interesting to me. The atheism and grumpiness and lack of spirituality, those set up some character clashes with Drift that I never expected to really... resolve? And the way he’s critical of Drift, personally, as well. I shipped it, but I was sure it would be a fanon thing, because that’s a pretty significant barrier to a healthy relationship and the story will probably focus on other things. But it didn’t!!!! I love Ratchet past his relationship, but the development of that relationship really drew a line under his best traits. There’s the compassion he shows while everyone else is shouting at Drift as he leaves the ship (for a crime he didn’t do), and he’s the only one to go help Drift when Atomizer throws a pipe at him. He had an antagonistic relationship with Drift, but he’s still the one to act on his discomfort with Rodimus’s avoidance and go bring Drift home. And once he and Drift reconcile, he so much more respectful when it comes to Drift’s beliefs! Not just in terms of religion either, he’s more respectful of Drift’s ideas and opinions about everything. It’s just... so choice, it really showcases what an amazing person he is.

Favorite moment: This is incredibly hard for him, r00d :c I’m picking two. Drift and Ratchet on Delphi, for one. The scene is set for how dangerous it is for Drift to be on the DJD’s homeworld and for how nasty the rust plague is (and how it’s passed on by touch). And when Drift starts dying, Ratchet is right there, holding his hand, telling him that no he’s not going to mercy-kill him, they’re going to get through this a different way. When Drift drags himself up to the roof and saves Ratchet from Pharma, that’s just the icing on the cake. And then..... ‘my beloved Ratchet’. Oh my GOD. That was unbelievable. It’s the most striking, painful note the comic could have hit for Ratchet right then, and it’s absolutely divine in terms of the context it gives all their earlier scenes. And I mean... Drift comforting Ratchet right after this doesn’t hurt at all either, it’s a really nice background moment showing the balance in the relationship, that they’re both getting something valuable out of each other instead of only one-sided support.

Idea for a story: This is the TFA drift/ratchet story I originally meant to write XD So originally, I remembered that oh hey, tfa decepticons are lorge, what if size kink dratchet. But in the supplementary materials, Drift pretty much has a Blurr body. So... why am I writing him in a bigger body? And then I got lost in justifying that and establishing their dynamic and never actually GOT to the size kink portion of the story. I knew that was going to happen, I’d made my peace that the porn wouldn’t fit tonally as a single fic. But I’m still totally going to write it :P So the story is going to be covering Drift recovering from the full-body transplant, where Ratchet is not going to be down for relationships and especially not down for sexytimes until Drift stops being his patient. He let Drift kiss him post-surgery and gave him the go-ahead for later. Drift... doesn’t want to wait for later. SO. I’m furthering their relationship from a semi-not-really-platonic viewpoint, until eventually, sweet and tender sex. Writing Ratchet being really, really bad at recognizing other people’s soft and vulnerable emotions is a delight, and Drift is so nice to write him against, because Drift is very open in some ways, closed off in others, and resilient in some ways, while also being very insecure in others. They contrast beautifully, and it makes writing them happy together so satisfying!

Favorite relationship: Okay, I’m going to talk about dratchet in Drift’s post, so here? Pharma. It’s so FASCINATING!!!!!!! Drift and Ratchet are opposites in a lot of ways, but Pharma and Ratchet are so similar! And through Ratchet, we get hints of what Pharma could have been, what he used to be, and why his present everything is such a shock. And Pharma, god. He draws a beautiful line under how Ratchet’s flaws can really hurt people. We get hints of that with Drift, like when Ratchet gives him shit over religion, but Drift usually shrugs that off in a relatively short period. With Pharma... some of it is subtext, like Ratchet being (eventually) willing to forgive Drift’s past as Deadlock while coming down incredibly hard on Pharma even though the DJD was blackmailing him. And Pharma doesn’t make it EASY to forgive him either, he keeps leaning into what he’s done and finding ways to escalate further. But like... I’m not doing this justice, but he knows Ratchet very, very well, and it feels like he knows the best ways to push Ratchet’s buttons and STOP Ratchet from ever softening towards him. I love it as a dumpster fire with a tender past, like cdprowl, and it has the potential to explore so many emotional extremes between the past and present, and I can’t get enough.

Unpopular opinion: Hm. I always struggle here. Maybe past healthy Pharma/Ratchet is an unpopular opinion? I’ve seen it most often written with Pharma already having some sharply toxic habits, but their backstory and his business with tyrest’s space bridge barrier make the most sense to me if this spiral is a recent, abrupt development, and not what he used to be. Slash I also like my dratchet best if it has a healthy dose of snark and giving each other affectionate shit. Extreme tenderness is great and I love it, but Ratchet is so naturally caustic and Drift is so naturally snarky that it doesn’t feel right in the long term without some of that dynamic slipping back in.

Favorite headcanon: I’m not sure how much here is headcanon vs subtext, BUT. That shadowplay arc, man. Ratchet being so compassionate and encouraging with Drift and telling him that he’s something special. And that stuck with Drift. Spoilers, that’s my favorite Drift moment. But then... Drift didn’t follow Ratchet’s advice, but he held that encouragement close. And he did eventually make something of himself. As Deadlock. He was a vicious fanatic and mass-murderer for millions of years, where his eventual break from the decepticons came because he was angry his commander wasn’t killing more autobots. He eventually regretted that, but this was his life until recently. And meanwhile, Ratchet knows who he is, Ratchet remembers giving him that encouragement, they both remember and think about it often. But from Ratchet’s perspective, he saved a dying street mech and told him he was special, and that mech went on to kill lord knows how many of Ratchet’s friends and allies. And now Drift regrets that, while knowing Ratchet’s perspective on the same issue. Ratchet knows that by saving this person, he inadvertently contributed to many, many deaths, and Drift knows he repaid the medic who saved his life and told him to make something of himself... by kiling lots of people. I’m not disappointed that their early interactions are frequently so edged, I wrote a whole meta about this thing. I’d be disappointed if things weren’t so tense between them, because this backstory beautifully informs the issues and regrets they’re both trying to process when it comes to each other.

#spock replies #ratchet #dratchet #pharma #transformers #ask memes/#kaesudd

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feels--on--wheels · 6 years

Text

A Million Miles Away

Wanted to write something for day 3 of Lost Light fest, but this came out late. Drift-POV, this has been stuck in my head for months, but guys, this tore its way out. Part of an AU where EoS doesn’t happen. This is basically hurt no comfort, warnings for intrusive thoughts and thoughts of self-harm.

Song on repeat- Ghost by Badflower.

It was a Bad Day again. Drift could feel the thoughts swirling in his head, like they were putting pressure on the inside of his helm. Like a tickle he couldn't reach, but he could hear it. You're nothing. He should have stopped Rodimus, stopped Prowl. He could have. Roddy listened to him, sometimes. If he had found the right words, set it in the right terms, Overlord never would have been anywhere near the Lost Light. Anywhere near Ratchet. He'd said no, but Roddy didn't listen, and Drift let it go. He always let it go. Because you're weak. And mechs had died because of that weakness, again. And he'd nearly watched Ratchet become one of them. He had to get away, stop putting the people he loved in danger because of him. Miles away from anyone I truly care about. His spark felt tight in his chest, like his chamber was too small. They would be fine without him. Rodimus had to lead the quest. He'd seen it. If Roddy didn't lead, Bad Things would happen. Worse than Overlord. Maybe if there had been a different Third in Command, if Roddy had brought on someone stronger, kept better friends than Drift, then Overlord wouldn't have been an issue. Someone like Perceptor, with his clear head and logical solutions, would never have let Prowl push on Roddy's pride like that. Pipes would be alive. Rewind. They survived a war, and died on a search. What if they never find the Knights, even with Rodimus? What if it was a false vision? What if Rodimus leads them all to their deaths? No. He had to have faith. Faith was all he had left. Miles away from anyone I truly care about. He wouldn't think of Ratchet, or Rodimus, or Perceptor. Wouldn't wonder if Chromedome had survived the loss of his conjunx. Or how if Rodimus had been a few seconds later...Overlord had had Ratchet by the throat. That first shot had been their last lucky one. It didn't matter that he was pinned down with his own swords. It hurt, but it didn't matter. The pain when his legs tore away as he tried to crawl back to the battle was nothing, because Ratchet was going to die, and it would be Drift's fault that he was gone, and he would have lost the chance to say all the things that he wished he could have said, all the things he would never be brave enough to tell him, because Drift was weak. If Rodimus had been ten seconds slower... Miles away from anyone I truly care about. Drift knew he would never be worth anything to Ratchet. To him, Ratchet was the first person who ever gave a damn if he lived or died. Ratchet had punched Death in the face and snatched Drift away, and when he woke up, he didn't regret it. Even after he had snuck away from the clinic when the medic didn't come back, he couldn't forget that. To Ratchet, he was just another junkie who had 'accidentally' overdosed directly into his processor, but he had never tried to kill himself after that, even when he was so low that Rodion looked like rough week, because Ratchet had put serious effort into saving his life, and somewhere out there Ratchet didn't want him to die. Miles away from anyone I truly care about. Bottom line, I've got nothing left to lose. He'd always thought Ratchet wanted him alive, anyway. Even when he was with the Decepticons, he felt like somehow Ratchet would notice. When he called himself Deadlock, when he let his anger at the priveledged mechs of the Senate and the Towers drive him to tear through Mechs until all he could smell was spilt Energon and burnt metal, when he pushed himself halfway to insanity with stims and constant adrenaline so he could keep going and stop thinking, he had always remembered Ratchet on Bad Days. When the Cause had changed beyond recognition, when Cybertron had been destroyed and abandoned, when there was nothing left to fight for. And ultimately, it would undoubtedly have been better for Ratchet if he'd let Drift die. What battles would have been won by the Autobots, what lives would have been saved, how much of the war could have been averted with strategic victories? Drift had no illusions that he'd single-handedly kept the Decepticons running, but he had been a weapon, and in the wrong hands the right weapon can do a lot of damage. Would Ratchet's hands have started going out if he hadn't had to use them so often? Would the Circle of Light have avoided drawing the attention of the Decepticons altogether? Drift shuddered hard and pushed back at the doubts pounding behind his optics, squeezing his hands together behind his neck. None of that mattered. Primus had given him this path, and he would continue on it until Primus was through with him. Wether Ratchet cared or not, Drift still would have distracted Overlord for as long as he could. That was his choice. Rodimus had to lead the quest. He had to believe that Primus had given him that vision for a reason. He would just have to do what he could from out here, alone. At least if he was on his own, he couldn't cause more trouble for the mechs on the Lost Light. When he was low like this, there was nobody to see him, nobody to judge him for this weakness where he couldn't even control his own thoughts, when he absolutely ached for something to distract him from himself, be it fighting or doing stupid stunts with Roddy or that throwback craving for the old drugs that would never fragging stop haunting him. His hands itched to be doing something, anything, but when he caught himself clutching the armor of his thighs so hard it started to buckle, he snatched them away. He wouldn't, not even this much. He had made a decision, and he couldn't control how he felt, and he couldn't control what he thought, but he could control this, and he would NOT. He paced the length of his ship instead, as small as it was. He sped up on each rotation, until he was practically throwing himself against the walls, but noticing didn't mean he could stop. What he needed to do was sit down in the cockpit and find another Decepticon signal to trace, fling himself as hard as he could at an enemy and burn off the nervous energy that was making his plating shiver and his fingers clench, but now that he was stuck in a pattern he couldn't seem to get himself out of it. History had taught him that eventually he would run out his energy and collapse, shaking and miserable and ashamed, until he managed to drag himself to his berth for recharge and a defrag, but that could be hours from now. He was wasting time like this, he could be helping people or stopping Decepticons or even just showing some aliens on a trade planet that not all Cybertronians were insane warmongering kill-machines, but instead he was stuck here arguing himself in circles on an empty ship, and before he could slip into another cycle of loathing and stubbornness and pain his Autobot frequency comm went off. '-bot Ratchet, under attack by-' Ratchet. Drift gasped in a huge invent, and suddenly he was back in control of his frame, scrambling to the cockpit and cranking the com-signal as loud as it would go while he started his tracking program and a silent prayer to Primus. '-significant hull damage, about to enter the atmosphere-' No no no, he couldn't lose the signal now! Ratchet needed him, he had to get there, he had to be close enough to get the comm. '-Alphekka syst-' Alphekka. Thank Primus. He hurriedly pulled up his starmap, searching through until he found the right star and immediately locked in a course for the most direct route. He wasn't close, not nearly close enough to get there before Ratchet made planetfall, but he had to try. Pain, doubt, the exhaustion that came after so much time spent whirling like a spark trapped in his own frame, none of it mattered. He had to get to Ratchet.

#drift #ratchet #lost light fest #dratchet #hurt

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overwatchimaginations · 7 years

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Can I have McCree flirting with a bounty hunter after him?

He was here.

You knew he was here.

Your gloved hand hurridly brushed away a droplet of sweat trickling down your forehead. The blazing sun had already caught you out; pink singed your arms. You were thankful for the light serape and brimmed hat you had managed to pick up a few towns back. Your footsteps crunched quietly on the dirty floor, stones and sand littered the tiles in the abandoned diner. Glad to be out of the sun, you took off the hat and gingerly placed it on top of the counter whilst trying not to make any noise. You ruffled your fingers through your hair in a vain attempt to untangle the sweaty knots. The air was hot and dry. No breeze had passed through this place in a long time.

He had though.

Your lowered your hand to hover on top of your holstered pistol, the other resting on top of your hat on the counter. You tilted your head back, closing your eyes you took a deep breath. All you had to do was wait.

“Y'know, doll, this place ain’t been servin’ for a while.”

Looks like you didn’t have to wait long. You spun around at the voice, quickly drawing your gun and steadying it with both hands.

“McCree.”

He tilted his hat with his prosthetic hand in acknowledgement. His eyes locked onto yours, before stalking forward towards you. You took a step backwards, your hip hitting a scratched up leather stool. He slowed when he was about two foot in front of you, leaning his forearms onto the bartop. The position made it so he had to jut his backside out. The outlaw pulled a cigarello from one of his many hidden pockets and bit the tip, lighting the end with a zippo before taking a puff.

He took no notice of the weapon in your hands still pointed at him.

He gestured to the outdated drink machines precariously perched on a table against the wall.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t drink the coffee. Always tasted like boiled dirt.”

You frowned at his casualness.

Why was he so calm? You’d heard rumours about what he had been through. About Deadlock. Blackwatch. Was he used to being in danger? What a shit feeling to get used to.

You sighed, essentially chucking your gun onto the counter and hoisting yourself up onto one of the seats. It had split open, part of the padding had fallen out and the tough leather was digging into your backside. You placed your hands in your lap and your back was slouched. You stared ahead at the ‘artwork’ on the walls, clearly showing a simpler time when everything hadn’t gone to pot.

“Given up already?”

He turned his torso so he could face you properly, now only leaning on one elbow. The other hand had taken ahold of the cigar, the metal fingers slightly glinting from the ashen embers.

“You’re obviously used to this.”

His brow raised.

“What? Bein’ on the run?”

You nodded. You pressed your lips together.

“You ain’t used to this though, are ya’?”

You shook your head. Why lie? Your right leg was jigging up and down in a repetitive motion. It was a bad habit. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him reach between his legs to clasp onto the edge of the stool, shimmying himself up onto the seat so he was at the same height as you.

“What’re you doin’ chasin’ after someone like me?”

You glanced over at him. Your eyes were drawn to his inquisitive chocolate ones.

“Curiosity.”

He huffed out a chuckle.

“Strangest reason I heard so far.”

A cloud of smoke drifted across your vision.

“So what’s with your ‘curiosity’ then?”“Just… Curiosity.”

A slight furrow of his brows and shift in his position made you explain more.

“I’m not curious as to what would happen to me if I didn’t come after you.”

He raised his head up slightly at your whisper, the grim realisation showing plainly on his face.

“Ya’ bein’ forced.”

“I had to try. Turns out I don’t have it in me to shoot someone.”

He broke contact when you said that. He puffed out another cloud of smoke, tapping the ash from the cigar onto the counter.

“So whatta ya’ g'na do?”

Creases framed his pools, a sign of spending too long in the sun and frowning too much. He was side-eyeing you.

“I don’t know.”

You faced forwards, bringing up your hand to wipe at your forehead again. You sighed, irritated at your gloves. You pulled them off and laid them on top of your hat.

“What d'ya want to do?”

A moment passed from your hesitation.

“Live.”

A deep chuckle from him reverberated around the empty diner. Your ears twitched at the sound. You hadn’t heard something like that in a long time. It was pleasant.

“Yeah, I could say the same. You’ve done well t'find me. Not many come this far and live.”

You pushed your hands in between your thighs, seeking a safe place in this unnatural situation. He took one last drag and stubbed out the end on the countertop, leaving a flurry of ash in its wake.

“Considerin’ you ain’t a bounty hunter-”“No. I am.”

He physically faultered.

“But ya’ just said you weren’t.”“I said I wasn’t used to it. Not the big guys, anyway. I know when I can win a fight, and I know when to back down. It was stupid of me to even try and track you down.”

A smirk flashed across his lips. It was gone in an instant.

“Like I said. Not many even pass the threshhold of this place.”

You sucked in a breath of the stagnant air.

“Why am I different? Why am I not lying in a pool of blood at the entrance?”

Your jaw tensed, a sudden burst of anger filling you with confidence.

“Calm down, pecan.”

McCree’s metal hand patted your thigh gently before coming to rest on top of it. The coolness was comforting.

“I knew ya’ wouldn’t kill me.”“You saying I’m weak?”“Absolutely not. Jus’ sayin’ you brought that to try an’ take me down. I’m a bit offended, if I’m honest, doll. It’ll take a lot more for me to come willingly.”

He was referring to your six shooter lying pathetically on the bartop. Your face had heatened; whether it was from the pet name and physical contact, or anger that he had just insulted your trusty weapon, you don’t know.

“What would it take?”

He removed his hand from your thigh and raised his shoulders in a shrug.

“I’d rather die than become tied down again.”“I see.”“And seein’ as you clearly ain’t g'na be doin’ that today..”

You huffed. Another laugh escaped from him. Clearly your frustration was entertaining him. You pouted at him.

“Chin up. It ain’t all bad.”“Mm. Coming from an outlaw.”“What’s that s'posed t'mean?”

His eyes sparkled with amusement. A corner of your lips tugged up in a half smile.

“You can technically do what you want; you already have a price on your head. I don’t.”“D'you have people after you?”“If I don’t bring you in.”“Well then. Looks like there’s another 'outlaw’ joinin’ the party.”“What?”“We’re both on the run now, (Y/N).”

You blinked forcefully, the smirk wiped off your face. The moment of banter was clearly over.

“How do you know my name?”“Kept tabs on ya’. Figured it was only a matter o’ time before you turned up on my doorstep. Surprised y'ain’t questionin’ that I’ve made you jobless now.”

You straightened your back, a temporary relief from being hunched over.

“So you knew who I was all this time?”“Mmhm. We’re similar. People know the name, the face. Once they see us for real it’s usually the last thing they see.”

Your teeth nipped at your bottom lip. It was true.

“How can I trust that you won’t just shoot me the moment I turn my back?”“I may be on th'other side o’ the law, but I’m still a gentleman.”

You pursed your lips.

“You didn’t aswer my question.” He raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I wanna be the next Bonnie and Clyde.”“..Who?”

He dramatically rolled his eyes at you.

“Partners in crime?”“Nope.”“I’ll have t'teach ya’.”“Will you now?”“Mmhm. Nobody’s g'na mess with us, doll.”

The easy banter was back, and you felt your ears burn at the now obvious flirting. He grinned at you, knowing the exact effect he was having.

“C'mon, lemme show ya’ around.”

He slid off of his seat and held out a hand in your direction. You stared down at the dark skin, calloused from probably years of hardened training. It was your choice. You took his offer and there was no turning back. You met his gaze.

He seemed eager. Eager to teach you. Eager to have company. Eager to not be alone.

You were too.

Looking back, placing your hand in his was the best decision you ever made.

#overwatch #overwatch fanfic #overwatch fanfiction #mccree #mccree x reader #jesse mccree #jesse mccree x reader #bounty hunter #outlaw #route 66 #overwatch route 66 #gender neutral reader #overwatch x reader

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s-turmfreiis · 7 years

Text

A Drive-In Experience

Fandom: Overwatch Characters: Genji Shimada and Tekhartha Zenyatta mainly, brief mentions of Lucio, Lena, McCree and Hanzo Rating: PG Warnings/Tags: None!

Written for Day 1 of Genyatta Week: Summer Edition! “Movie Night/Drive In Theater” --> it’s pre-established, post overwatch recall, because who needs a full backstory when you got fluff, right?

Summary: Of all the attractions in America, of course Jesse McCree had to take the mission team to a drive-in theater.

“Nothin’ shouts summer in the USA to me like goin’ to a drive-in theater to see a movie,” Jesse explained, his fingers drumming nonsensically on the steering wheel of their rental car, “They were big ‘round the 1950′s, got a bit of a revival.”

Genji heard of a few drive-in theaters in Japan, usually near the coasts and relatively small in size; a crop of Western-born culture in Eastern soil. He never bothered with them, not when the theaters in Hanamura had heated recliner seats for their movie goers.

It was surprisingly cheap to get in, the crackling of tires on gravel momentarily deafening as they had maneuvered around the vast, surprisingly vacant lot of the drive-in. Genji let McCree speak of his favorite films, the times he slipped in the trunks of stolen vehicles with other Deadlock members to catch a movie or two--almost always a Western film, it seemed like--before going on their next trip.

They backed into a spot away from most of the other movie goers; far, but just far enough to still have the full size of the screen. Lucio and Tracer were quick to set up their blankets and (briefly) hotel pillows on the ground in front of the truck, their backs leaning into the van’s frame as they unpacked their theater candy. McCree and Hanzo took to the roof of the van (something Genji is still amazed Jesse managed to convince Hanzo to do, something the cowboy claimed he always did; “It’s the best view in the house, darlin’!”)

Which left Zenyatta and Genji to themselves, nestled inside the folded up back of the rental van.

“’Hero of My Storm’” Genji reads the smudged ink of the paper ticket from the drive-in window, the soft music of the opening credits echoing through the metal pole speakers on either side the van, “I didn’t realize Hana was also an actress.”

Zenyatta gives a hum beside the Shimada, watching the screen idly as Hana’s face flashed before them, energetic and eager as always, “She mentioned it to me once, having worked with omnic directors like Alfred Glitchbot.” Zenyatta remarks, the faces of the main cast cycling through midst the colorful action on screen before-- “Oh!”

Genji stirs, the surprise and the giddiness in the omnic’s tone warm and unexpected. “What is it, Master?”

“Thesbian 4.0!” Zenyatta points to the omnic’s face on screen, currently struggling to keep a hat on his head in the face of the mass winds blowing about him, the impending doom of the ‘Storm’ looming in, “He is one of my favorite actors.”

“Really?” Genji asks, contemplating the image momentarily as the film begins its opening scene, “I did not realize you you followed things like this...”

The laugh that bubbles out of Zenyatta distracts Genji from the first scene on screen--Hana speaking urgently with a larger man in a lab coat, a scientist maybe?--the cyborg looking towards the omnic.

“I may be a monk, Genji, but that does not mean I am not with the times.” Zenyatta explains, his tone light and full of amusement, “The Shambali were very interested in the progress and the lives of our brothers and sisters across the globe--to hear of omnics like Thesbian and Alfred Glitchbot making great strides in the world of film excited and encouraged my siblings to pursue their own interests, and to support them.”

Ah, so that was it. Genji nods, smile flickering beneath his helmet as he returns to the movie, the next scene already underway. He’d say more, but... Zenyatta was already engrossed in the film, his hands idly playing with the fabric of his pants as the story was laid out: a massive tornado was to strike the city, and it was up to the characters of Hana, the scientist, and the civilian Thesbian to save it before it was too late.

While it did capture his attention, Genji couldn’t help but let his attention draw elsewhere, always easy to drift when requiring him to focus on anything while sitting still.

He listens to the quiet voices of Hanzo and McCree above him--something about a foolish decision made on the part of Hana’s character, quick and impulsive, with a laugh from McCree. He watches Lena and Lucio’s heads bop to the music of a montage, Lucio eager to claim credit on a particular track. His attention once again drifts to his Master, and while his face plate remains permanently stagnant, he can't help but notice the little ways he moved.

The way Zenyatta’s shoulders lifted at a particularly intense action sequence, nearly costing Hana and the Scientist their newest discovery, the soft and eager exclamations of surprise he gave almost... adorable, if he could label it such.

“Do you think they will be able to stop the storm, Master?” Genji asks during a particularly quiet scene, the looming image of the tornado bearing down upon the city.

“Hm... I cannot say, though the solution they have come up with to change the path of the storm seems... plausible, at best.” Zenyatta replies, his gaze still locked on the screen, “Though, Thesbian seems to know something the rest do not, even if he is not yet working alongside the scientists... he might know something.”

“Maybe,” the Shimada hums, pulling a blanket from beside him over his shoulders, “I’m not quite sure... it seems a bit over the top to me to follow the laws of physics, Master.”

The omnic chuckles, a low sound in dancing light of the movie screen, his frame easily slotted against Genji’s, “Might I argue that your favorite movie does not particularly follow the laws of physics, either?”

Genji splutters, “I--Green Sentai does not have to follow the laws of physics, Master! He is Green Sentai!”

“And that permits him to do as he wishes regardless for realism?” Zenyatta retorts, a teasing edge to his tone.

“Yes!” the cyborg laughs, his arm lifting the other half of his blanket over Zenyatta’s shoulders, closing the little distance left between them from the start of the film, “That’s the whole point of the Sentai Rangers!”

Whatever is happening on screen, Genji is not particularly paying attention anymore, though it seems Zenyatta is not, either. They fold into one another, the blanket linking them as they continue to quietly muse to one another, the words coming ease as laughter bubbles between them. Genji is quick to remove his helmet, knowing full well no one else will catch his face, and presses a kiss to the monk’s face plate, earning a soft and amused ‘Genji, the film--’ from him.

“The film? What film?” Genji is quick to retort, eagerly pressing another kiss to Zenyatta’s forehead array, “You are much more interesting.”

The end of the film comes much faster than Genji would have liked, only managing to plaster a few dozen kisses on the omnic before they are forced to part, though unable to pull away from one another as the credits roll. Lucio and Lena’s faces are quick to reappear from the screen, singing praises of the movie before they begin to pack.

“Well, what’d y’all think of the drive-in?” McCree asks, tossing Hanzo and his’ blanket down from the roof of the van.

“I rather enjoyed it.” Zenyatta replies, his fingers laced together with Genjis as they pull themselves from the back of the van, “It is quite different than being in a theater, much more personal to the viewer.”

“I know, right?” McCree’s laughter comes as he hops from the roof, Hanzo already having dropped down and rolling up the blanket, “Theaters are stuffy and you don’t get the fresh air!”

Lena’s head pokes from the other side of the van, smile big, “That’s what I was gonna say!”

Lucio’s enthusiastic nod can be seen through the rolled up window of the van, the last of their things packed and the seats pulled back up.

Genji claims Lucio’s seat--the far back--with Zenyatta, everyone’s frames heavily nestled into their seats as McCree starts the van. He wastes no time to link their arms and lace their fingers, Zenyatta’s hand a comforting weight as they lean into one another.

“We should do that again,” Zenyatta muses in the quiet of the van, his voice just raised enough for Genji to catch, “I would very much like to show you more of Thesbian’s films.”

Genji smiles, nodding gently. “Yeah, let’s do that again... ourselves, maybe?”

In the passing street lamps, Zenyatta’s face plate flickers into view, forehead array dim but blinking as he laughs, “Yes. Ourselves.”

#genyatta #overwatch #genyatta summer week #m1ne #cracks knuckles lets fucking do this #i get a whole week to write for these two i am NOT missin this chance #tbd: will proof read a second time later but for now this is solid enough #hope y'all like the movie poster idea

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