#I want to write a Mondatta chapter I want to write a Mondatta chapter so BADLY

[kakusu-shipping]

You know when it’s already 4am and you’ve got things to do tomorrow but your brain keeps looping a fictional conversation in your head and you can’t go to sleep till you write it down? Anyway.

A little B-sides addition to @probably-some-goat‘s S/I fic series The Dragon and The Fox, because while he’s writing angst I’m thinking of all the stupid shit that can happen in the background.

The Dragon and The Fox; B-Sides

In which Genji is trying to stare me to death

“So... When that new guy finally wakes up, he’s probably going to want something to eat, right?” Emile asked to what could essentially be empty space. He stood in the kitchen of the Shimbali Master, Mondatta, one of few kitchens in the monastory, making himself a 2:30am PB&J.

Why he was making a 2:30 PB&J and not asleep as most humans are at this time would be thanks to the other person in the room, Genji Shimada, who was glaring down the hallway back twords Emile’s room where the aforementioned “new guy” was currently out cold, taking up the mechanics nice warm bed.

Genji had dragged this “new guy” in from the blizzard without much of a word, which wasn’t unusual, as Genji hadn’t been much of a talker in the month he’d been living at the Monastery, and at present the two humans who called this mountain home had arrived in much the same capacity, dressed a little too lightly for a hike up a Nepal Mountain, so a third arriving in the same way wasn’t as shocking as the first two.

Genji had first taken the freezing man to the only Omnic he was willing to speak to, Zenyatta, who then brought them both here. Mondatta, a bleeding heart with only one bed in his home, immediately took the human in, awaking Emile to give up said bed.

And thus. Here he is. 2:40 in the morning. Eating a PB&J in his pajamas with a cyborg who hadn’t spoken a word to him in a full month of living together.

“I guess I’ll just make him a peanut butter sandwich?” Emile continued his one sided conversation, and immediately regretted it.

Genji’s head snapped to face the bedheaded man, glaring with murderous intent, making Emile flinch and nearly drop his plate.

“O-Okay then..” He gave a nervous smile, stepping back from the living weapon squatting at the only way out of the small room, “Something hot would probably be better anyway. I’ll ask Aoi in the morning if she’d be willing to make him some stew... That sound.. better?”

Genji didn’t respond, his glare didn’t lessen, but he did at least turn it away from Emile, and back down the hall, watching their darkly clad guest’s chest rise and fall as he slept. Emile felt a little bad for the new guy, he couldn’t imagine being the center of Genji’s attention like that... Scary...

--------------------------------------------------------

“Sorry, we really don’t have much to eat when Mondatta’s gone.” Emile swung open a cabinet, inside was half a jar of peanut butter, two cans of dried fruit, and an empty cup noodle container.

The for-mentioned “New Guy”, now identified as Zayne, sat himself at the table in the center of the room. It’d been only two days sense he’d arrived, though this was the first time he’d gotten out of bed for more than just a run to the restroom.

Mondatta, despite his worry for the new human in his home, unfortunately, was scheduled to leave the Shimbali for a tour around Canada this month. Upon leaving, Mondatta had left it to Emile to keep an eye on Zayne, make him feel welcome and comfortable until he could get back. This was a promise Emile regretted making.

Wherever Zayne went, Genji followed, close but never in direct sight. He glared around corners, in shadow, on rooftops, and under the bed. Mostly at Emile. It was starting to get to him a little bit, but he didn’t have the nerve to call it out.

“He left us some cash though, so we can go into town when you’re feeling better and get some more stuff. Till then, how about a peanut butter sandwich?” Emile offered with his best friendly smile, turning to face Zayne at the table. (and Genji, who hung by the only exit to the kitchen once again)

“Ah, thanks but... I’m allergic to peanut butter.” Zayne’s response was a lie; he was not medically allergic to peanut butter, it would not kill him to eat it, but it might as well do so with how ill it made him. He’d learned this sort of white lie from his brother, a way to protect himself, as his father was less likely to force him to eat foods he thought would kill him as a child.

“Oh.” Emile paused, glancing over Zayne’s shoulder to Genji, who was staring daggers not at the human, but the jar of peanut butter he was holding. “Yeah... Yeah okay, that makes sense.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Zayne wondered if he should be offended. Does he look like someone who’s allergic to peanut butter?

“Don’t worry about it.”

Silence fell between the two, technically three, as Emile continued to scour the cabinets for something that wouldn’t require him to light the stove. A moment or two ticked before Zayne spoke up.

“So do you like... Know everyone here?”

“In the monastery? Yeah, pretty much. I’ve lived here about 5 years now, and it’s not that big a place. It’d be harder not to know people.” Emile answered, climbing onto the counter to reach a higher cabinet.

“Cool. So... What’s with that guy?” The green ninja pointed his thumb over his shoulder at Genji without looking back.

Emile glanced over his shoulder, “Oh Gen-” His voice caught hard in his throat.

Genji moved like lightning, now standing directly behind Zayne, the latter having not noticed the suddenly closeness of the death machine behind him, the ninja’s hand on the handle of his Wakizashi he kept on his lower back, glaring, as always, with murderous intent.

Emile gulped and did his best to appear normal, keeping his smile still as he could, “Oh uh, h-him...? Uhm... I-I don’t really kn-know his name... h-he doesn’t... speak...”

That seemed to be a satisfactory answer as Genji removed his hand from the weapon, keeping his glare he returned again to the doorway. There was no escape.

“He doesn’t speak?” Zayne asked, oblivious to the threat actively happening behind him.”

Emile got down off the counter and joined Zayne at the table, giving up looking for something to eat, “Not sense he arrived ‘boutta month ago, no. Well, except to Zenyatta.”

“Who’s Zenyatta?” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Emile chewed on this thumbnail as he went over the rough sketches he’d been doing of Genji. He’d been seething at them sense he’d been given a moment to look over the ninja‘s cybernetics.

The entire construction was flawed, Genji was no doubt in pain, which was probably a pretty good reason he was always in such a foul mood. Well that, and his shitty family life, but Emile wasn’t supposed to know that.

“You are going to form wrinkles glaring like that.” A synthetic voice hummed from Emile’s open door. Zenyatta, Emile’s inside gossip to Genji’s personal traumas, leaned on the framing, head tilted, “Still thinking about my student’s body, are you?” He spoke with a tease.

Emile groaned and pushed away from his work table, his chair wheeling back into his examination table, “It sucks, Zen, it sucks and makes me want to bite people.”

Zenyatta chuckled at Emile’s rage, it was rare to see the mechanic mad in his work space.

“How is he anyhow?” Emile layed his head on the cool metal table, “He’s been talking more, so I assume you’re working your magic on him.”

“I do no magic, I am simply pointing him down a path of recovery, every step he takes is his own.” Zenyatta answered, taking a seat on Emile’s work table.

“Hm. That’s not really an answer.”

Zenyatta’s laugh rung through the room, loosening Emile’s scowl. “He is doing fine. I believe I have caught a hint of a smile on him a few times.”

Emile sighed and sat up, rolling back to his table, “Good. I was worried he was going to be a hissy little stray forever.”

The mechanic’s eyes wandered again to his sketches, from just an external look he could only guess which wires did what. He wasn’t permitted to touch Genji at all, or ask him to stand or run, so everything he’d observed could only be guess work. Still, he think he had a pretty good idea of the original intention.

“He was a weapon...” Emile muttered to himself, sliding his hand over the paper to smooth it out on his table, “He has weapon storage here, here, and here. And these dumb knives on his calves...”

Zenyatta leaned over to look at the paper as Emile made note of Genji’s internal weapon storage, all of which took priority over his circulatory system, which ran in exposed tubes on the outside of his cybernetics.

The human’s fingers drummed on his wooden work table, his scowl returned as he pulled his knee to his chin. The look reminded Zenyatta of when Emile had first been permitted to examine Ramattra. Much like Genji, Ramattra gave no trust to engineers outside himself, it’d taken a long time for the large Omnic to permit Emile to examine him. The two had much the same problem, priority over their usefulness as weapons than their own survival.

Zenyatta’s hand caught Emile’s before it could find itself around his well chewed pencil, “I think this calls for a break.” He chimed, standing from the table, easily pulling the small human with him.

“A break? From what? I’m not working-” Emile’s protest landed on deaf ears as Zenyatta lead him out into the cold of the Shimbali Monastery street.

Somewhere in the distance there was a snowball fight raging, Monks laughing and singing echoed through the mountain, and a troubled ninja sat in his room thinking on his past and what he wanted his future to be.

But none of that mattered in the moment to Emile, who’s cheeks burned red, not from the cold and snow, but from holding the hand of the Omnic he’d fallen in love with.

#Emile's Writing #OH BOY 5AM #self insert #Self ship #B-SIDES BABY MY FAVORITE #I think I originally had more but writing the second one got to me and I forgot literally everything else I wanted to do here fkgjdfkjgkdf #I want to write a Mondatta chapter I want to write a Mondatta chapter so BADLY #but we're just gonna have to wait and see #He'll be back for Genji's surgery don't worry about it #He's too much of a worry wort to NOT be here for Genji's surgery #Zayne writes me way to confident I need to stare at Genji for a solid 5 days beofre I'd ever say I coudl fix him #I maybe could MAYBE but I have to actually look at everything a little closer first fkdgjdfkjg #BABY IT'S COLD OUTSIDE #Tempted to call it B-Sides part 1 because I can feel it I'm gonna wanna write more of this #We're just gonna have to see #Alright I'm going to bed I have. So much to do this weekend. #I have to see... so many people... aaaaaaaaaaugh

[writeyouin]

Jesse McCree X Reader – The Gunslinger - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - Revenge

A/N – I was going to write more but I’m tired now. I will eventually write a part three, so until then, I hope you enjoy this.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Jesse downed another half bottle of cheap whiskey, in an attempt to forget. He wanted to forget the sorry excuse for a squat his last bounty had bought him. He wanted to forget his past as a member of the Deadlock Gang. He wanted to forget the way Overwatch had failed. He wanted to forget you.

It had been six months since he had last gone back to the Gunslinger, your run-down dive bar that felt more like home to him than anywhere else in the entire world. He would never forget the way he had failed you. If he told you his thoughts, you would undoubtedly try to comfort him by reminding him that he had saved your life, but he knew that he had failed you.

If he had been more careful with his aim when that prick had held a knife to your throat, then you wouldn’t have gotten hurt at all. He remembered all too vividly the scarlet blood that had ran from your neck down to your arm. Hating the memory that assaulted his brain, Jesse gripped his bottle tighter and downed what was left; any thoughts would be wiped away soon enough.

The door to the Gunslinger creaked open and you looked up hopefully, but it wasn’t Jesse. It was just another wanderer, stopping by your bar on the way to bigger and better things. After serving him, you went back to wondering about Jesse. It wasn’t surprising to see him gone so long, but this time you really felt like he might not come back.

The idea of never seeing him again hurt more than falling into a dozen cacti, and yet you knew that you shouldn’t be so disappointed; Jesse had never been yours to begin with. So, you waited through yet another day, hoping that the pain would soon fade.

The next day, much the same as the one prior was uneventful, at least until the sun dipped low on the horizon, signalling that it was almost closing time. Had there been anyone in, you would have rung a bell on the counter, calling for the last orders. As it was, you simply continued reading your book, a biography of Tekhartha Mondatta, the deceased omnic who founded the Shambali back before everything had turned to shit.

While you read, you debated closing the bar ten minutes early, knowing full well that if somebody should enter now, you wouldn’t have time to serve them more than a quick brew. It was only habit that stopped you from doing so; you hadn’t closed up early in the six years you had owned the bar, and you weren’t about to start now.

With only five minutes left to closing time, you began your night time ritual, cleaning the place so it was at least the most presentable dive bar in Santa Fe. Ducked beneath the counter, searching for the soapy rag you had just dropped, you heard the doors swing open.

“Bar’s closing,” You called.

“Is that so?” A somewhat familiar voice griped.

“Yeah, you’ll have to find somewhere else to-” You fell silent upon seeing Ulrick, the man who had attacked you six months earlier, scarring your neck where his knife had grazed you.

Subconsciously, you reached for the scar, reliving the fear you had felt then, though you proudly didn’t let it show.

“OUT,” You barked harshly. “GET OUT, NOW!”

“Is that any way to treat a guest?” Ulrick grinned sickly. “How’s about a little respect? Maybe a drink in my hand, yeah?”

Behind the bar, you fumbled to find your pistol. Mostly you used it to scare off the occasional rowdy drunk; now you wanted it for protection. Whipping it out, you glared at Ulrick.

“Get out,” You growled vehemently.

“You ain’t in any position to tell me what to do, bitch,” Ulrick spat, completely unfazed.

He limped closer to the bar, still injured from where McCree had shot him in the knee.

Unafraid to shoot, you cocked back the hammer on the old-fashioned gun. There was a moment of silence wherein only the leaky faucet in the back of the bar could be heard. Ulrick sized you up, and you stared him down, wishing you weren’t so far away from any decent law enforcement.

Finally, Ulrick smiled, adding further to your tension. He had no weapon, nor could he make his way over to you in time on his busted leg, and yet still he smiled the way children do when thinking that annoying refrain, ‘I know something you don’t know.’

He whistled, signalling for four other men to come in, all with shotguns aimed directly at you. “This is the one, lads. The lass that fucks the outlaw, or maybe she’s an omnic fucker. Maybe it’s both, she seems the type, right?”

Nobody replied to Ulrick’s speech, instead watching you intensely, their aim unwavering.

“What do you want from me?” You hissed.

“Me? You ain’t got nothing I want, bitch.”

Before you could so much as scream, your pitiful gun was taken and you were hit in the side of the head with the butt of a shotgun, knocked out cold behind the bar with no hope of rescue.

“Tie ‘er up,” Ulrick ordered. “I don’t want ‘er escapin’ when we torch this place to the ground.”

“Where’s our bounty?” One of the gang members growled irritably, having been told that Jesse McCree would be there.

“Obviously not here,” Ulrick shouted back. “I said he might not be. Settle for the pay I’ll give you for offing this bitch.”

Knowing full well that it was almost impossible to find McCree at any given time, the gang settled for the meagre price Ulrick had put on your head. If they had McCree, they could have earned a hundred times what he was paying them for you, but money was money and at least you were there.

McCree drove through the desert on an old chopper he had stolen from a low-down crook. He had been driving the entire night, almost swerving off the road more than once in his drunken state, the hangover from his binge drinking looming over him.

By this point he had expected that he would have blacked out in the small squat where he had been staying, but evidently, he wasn’t so lucky. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get you off his mind. If he couldn’t run from you, he would have to confront you instead and make you see that he was a no-good varmint that would never do anything good for you or that damned bar.

McCree wasn’t really sure what point he was going to make when he saw you, but he expected that you would disagree with his lowly opinion of himself and then there would be a lot of arguing back and forth.

Finally, McCree made it to the long stretch of road where the Gunslinger stood. For a moment he skidded the bike to a halt, squinting his eyes shut, sure that the plumes of smoke rising into the sky pushed up by orange flames were nothing but a hallucination; he was hungover, overly tired, and it wasn’t even the dry season for fires.

When he opened his eyes again and the fire persisted in the distance, McCree swore and kicked the bike’s throttle on, zooming down the final stretch faster than he should have in his state.

He was less than a mile away when the heat from the flames hit him, drying out his already cracked skin. He threw the bike down and immediately ran inside what was left of the old bar. Covering his mouth with his poncho to protect from the smoke, McCree’s Overwatch training kicked in, immediately sobering him up as he searched the bar for signs of life.

He prayed that you weren’t there, hating to think about the damage that would have been done to you if you had been there for long. Alas, he wasn’t so lucky, finding you tied up and unconscious behind the bar, your face bruised and bleeding from one blunt object or another.

McCree was filled with rage upon seeing the injury; it was no accident that you got that, nor was the fire that consumed the only home McCree had ever known.

“(Y/N)!” Jesse gruffly called your name, whilst cutting the rope that bound you.

He picked you up in and hoisting you over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He kept on repeating your name, hoping that it might rouse you somewhat, but it was useless, like talking to a corpse.

At the macabre thought, McCree hurried, abandoning his bike for the beat up old chevy you kept around the back. Thankfully, the fire hadn’t damaged the car, past a few scorch marks that blackened the already damaged paint.

Laying you down on the back seat and belting you in, McCree got in the front and hotwired the car. The radio sprang to life with Johnny Cash’s Ring of Fire, further stoking McCree’s temper on his way to the hospital.

Once at the hospital, McCree regrettably had to abandon you at the doors on a gurney for the doctors to find. By now, several cameras on the way through the small town and in the hospital would have gotten sight of the outlaw.

He would have to be fast if he wished to avoid the hands of the law as well as half a dozen bounty hunters. Besides, McCree also had a personal mission to track down whoever it was that had hurt you and destroyed your bar; every person involved was going to get a bullet right between the eyes for hurting his bartender.

If McCree stopped to think about it, he would have considered his feelings for you, but he knew if he did then he would be in danger of going somewhere he couldn’t return from.

Gripping the steering wheel tightly, McCree scowled, awaiting the moment that he would see you again; he didn’t want to come back to you, but he knew he would have to see that you were alright before he could leave once again. What had started as a trip to get you out of his system had quickly become McCree’s mission to avenge you.

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#ow #overwatch #mccree #jesse mccree #mccree x reader #jesse mccree x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #reader #reader insert

[lacertae-dreamscape]

The Sentai and the Cultist [16/?]

IMPORTANT NOTICE: im taking next week off to write ahead one chapter since i have been unable to keep up this past month due to stuff. just next week then i’m back w weekly updates, i hope you don’t mind... and thank you for ur continued support!!

Feel free to comment or reblog n tag so I know if you like this :D please?

00 | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 (tumblr)

This fic (on AO3)

Pairing: Genji/Zenyatta

Rating: mature for overall fighting scenes n stuff just to be on the safe side

Summary: The Sentai have discovered there is more to the Cultist than meets the eye, and have thus gained an ally, but things are still far from being solved. It is only the start…

The Sentai and the Cultist

Chapter 16

Though there had been many hotels that had tried to get Tekhartha Mondatta of the Shambali to check in with them, the one the sentai rangers had picked for him was a simpler one.

It was still a high-end hotel, because despite Mondatta’s reassurances on the subject, they still considered him an important guest, but it was not the most luscious one the city had to offer, which was still good enough to appease the sentai and also the city council, but not too extravagant.

The exact choice had been kept a secret from the public to avoid crowd disturbance, but the security had been tightened around the area anyway, just in case.

Mondatta had been offered a suit on one of the top floors for himself and his two companions, and for once he had not protested; Genji knew it was because the suites were on a different floor from the other rooms, and that allowed Mondatta a degree of privacy he would not get otherwise, which meant he would be able to meet with Zenyatta without too much fuss, and as the suites had their own balconies, the sentai rangers would be able to come and go from there rather than using the front door of the hotel.

Moira did not seem to want to stick around after the first round of formalities, more at ease in a laboratory than as company to a renowned public figure, and to be fair, it was a relief for Genji –her presence made it harder for the sentai to talk with Mondatta freely– but at the same time, her leaving Mondatta’s side meant she would return to the base, forcing Zenyatta back to his room and into hiding.

Genji was also worried about the kind of pressure Moira was putting on Winston in order to get her hands on Zenyatta’s mala, and while it would be alright for her to analyse it while she was still at the sentai base, if she found it too interesting she would want to take it back with her.

It was tempting to stay at Mondatta’s side, but Genji wanted to also go back to the base and see Zenyatta, and his hesitation was so visible Lucio exhaled loudly and pushed him towards the balcony door, shaking his head.

“You go, man,” Lucio’s voice was amused as he patted him on the shoulder. “Remember, you’re the one who can… manage… well, you’re not needed here, alright? Master Mondatta is going to be okay, we’re just going to settle down and check his schedule for the speeches and set up everything.”

That did the trick –it was weirdly easy for Genji to forget he was the only one among the sentai rangers who could interact with Zenyatta for more than a couple minutes.

Trying to hide his glee, he nodded. “Moira, do you need…”

“No, it will be alright. I will take the normal route out of the hotel, and meet you back at the base on my own time. I have a few things to discuss with the hotel owners about security measures, and then I have to call back home to check how my team is doing, not to mention discuss with the city council about the speech. Please precede me.”

Feeling incredibly relieved to know he would not have to accompany Moira back to the base, sparing himself a very uncomfortable, awkward trip, Genji bowed to Mondatta.

“Once I make sure my patrol round is complete and the city is alright, I will be back and we will review the schedule to make sure everything is alright. Again, allow me to say your presence here makes us happy.”

Mondatta turned his face plate towards him, regarding him for a second, and then his forehead array flickered into a deeper shade of teal. “Likewise, your presence truly reassures me, sentai rangers.”

Mondatta and his two companions walked him to the balcony and watched as Genji jumped out of it, and if Genji took his sweet time and made his landing a little bit more acrobatic than normal, just to show off his abilities a bit in front of Zenyatta’s brother… well. No one would know.

With Mondatta’s arrival the sentai would have to work a little harder, but none of them minded, as things were definitely looking up; it was not just because a meeting between the two brothers would make Zenyatta happy, though Genji had no problem admitting it was his main reason for doing this –it was also because as a high-profile personality, Mondatta brought with him a degree of publicity that would help the sentai force in the long run. Genji had heard Winston complain enough about how Moira’s squad was always a step ahead, and they would need this boost to keep the funding coming.

Genji was not stupid.

He was a hero, and he did his job because it made him happy, and because people were protected, and he liked feeling useful, feeling like he mattered, but Moira’s troops had a less casual approach, and considering they preferred to work in the shadows, most of the time their results were swifter. Winston had opted for a visually appealing look because he considered the morale boost of having visible heroes part of the job, and being popular would also help.

People felt reassured by a force that protected them where they could see them in action, and it made them feel like someone was doing something for them –and it made them wish to reach out and ask for help when needed, while at the same time recognizing they were on the job and refrain from hindering their patrols unless the sentai themselves were alright with approaching the public.

Moira’s group had simply a different work ethic, but that did not mean both could not exist at the same time. Their results hinged on secrecy, on having the citizens none the wiser about what went on behind the scenes.

There was nothing wrong with either way, though Genji knew he preferred the sentai force, and he knew the other sentai agreed with him –and Moira’s attitude did not help, not really.

Still, Genji had joined when the monsters had started to appear, but he knew that even if the monsters were finally defeated or sealed back to their own world, the sentai rangers would still continue to exist. Winston had been clear on that point –there was more to the rangers than just fighting monsters who were real monsters. There were still thieves, and humans and omnics with special powers that were used for evil, and as long as those existed, he would do his best so that the sentai would continue to exist, as well.

Which meant they did need the funding and popularity boost, either way.

It was a two-way street, and Genji understood that perfectly.

Feeling good for being recognised on the street for his work was just an extra boon for Genji, though it did help, and well…

People like Zenyatta were also why Genji felt a drive to do his best –people who relied on the sentai, who needed to feel safe, who deserved to be protected and helped out.

“Athena, I’m back.” Genji landed on one of the platforms on the higher floors of the base, and the polished, reflective surface of the wall in front of him parted to reveal a secret door, allowing him in.

“Welcome back, Genji,” Athena’s voice filtered to him from one of the speakers near the wall. “Hana called to let us know Moira would not return with you.”

“Yeah, so I got here faster since I did not have to match her speed.” Genji moved down the hallway, looking around. “Where’s –” he hesitated.

“Don’t worry Genji, Moira’s companions are both absent. They have left earlier this morning.”

That was an even greater relief. “So where’s Zenyatta?”

“Considering we were not expecting any of you back, with Moira and her croons out of the base–” Athena ignored Genji’s snort “–Winston thought it would be the perfect opportunity to run a few diagnostics on Zenyatta.”

“Ah, so they’re in the lab?”

“Maybe you should not join them, Genji.” Athena sounded hesitant.

“I might not get what Winston is doing, but I want to know what’s happening anyway.”

Athena hummed at that, but Genji could not understand her reticence until he arrived to the lab, pushing the door open.

Zenyatta was inside what looked like a glass container, cables splitting from the back of his neck and connected with one of Athena’s panels on the nearby wall. He looked unconscious, slumped on his side with his forehead array offline, the usual green glow underneath his tentacles and on his chest absent.

He was also missing an arm.

Genji felt a knot of panic bubble up from the depths of his chest, shock making him go completely still, and he could only manage a soft, strangled sound, one hand clenched so tightly on the edge of the doorframe his knuckles turned white.

“Ah, Genji! Welcome back!” Winston appeared from behind one of his huge computers, and Genji’s head snapped to him, only for his eyes to grow wide when he saw what Winston was holding in one of his big hands.

Zenyatta’s detached arm.

Genji fumbled backwards, white as a sheet, and bumped against the doorframe. The contact startled him enough that it pushed him into the room, stumbling towards the glass panel enclosing Zenyatta, eyes darting from his unconscious frame to Winston, who had the decency to look sheepish.

“Oh, uh. This. You see, ah… with Moira and her, uh, her companions away from the base, uh, Zenyatta thought it would be the right moment to–”

“You cut off his arm!” Genji found his voice again, though it sounded too strangled and high to be his own.

“–start some tests and no, Genji, I did not cut off his arm and…”Winston looked down at the arm he was holding, then back up at Genji. “Alright, I can understand this looks rather bad, but this was removed from Zenyatta’s shoulder painlessly and with careful, uh, I mean, we’ll put it back afterwards but I needed to test–”

“What your friend is trying to say, is that I have willingly allowed him to remove one of my arms to test a theory.” Zenyatta’s voice came through Athena’s speakers, and Genji’s head spun around to look at Zenyatta, finding him looking exactly like before, unresponsive and motionless.

“Zenyatta! Are you alright? This– this isn’t what you should do, you don’t have to let… Winston, I thought you would be less… less–” Genji scrambled towards the glass panel, placing one hand against it.

Zenyatta, abandoned like that, lifeless, almost d–

Genji felt a cold grip around his heart, and clenched his jaw, refusing to complete the thought.

With a soft, familiar ding, one of Zenyatta’s orbs floated towards him, surrounded in warm, golden light. It wrapped around Genji like an embrace, soothing him. Genji felt his heart slow down and realised he’d been breathing hard through his clenched teeth, fighting off a panic attack, one he had not even noticed he was experiencing.

He curled the hand against the glass pane into a fist to hide the way it was trembling.

Zenyatta spoke again, softer. “This is entirely painless, I assure you. Winston did not suggest this either –I did. I promise you, Genji, I am unhurt and this looks… worse than it is.”

“Oh, you can still control your orbs like this?” Winston’s tone shifted back to intense curiosity, ambling away from Genji and back towards the computer screen. “There’s no noticeable difference in the stats and the graph registers an increased brain-input activity, but not by much…”

“My conscience  uploaded to Athena’s mainframe has the same connection to my mala that I have while residing in my body, yes,” Zenyatta agreed. He sounded amused. “True self is without form. Is it not that whatever is me exists, regardless of its shape? I am still myself, whether the appearance I take is that of a monster, or my AI is uploaded elsewhere. As long as I remain myself, my abilities are unchanged.”

“That is, uh. Very deep, yes,” Winston fumbled with the arm he was still holding, busy checking over something on the screen of his computer, and Genji was left behind, feeling helplessly lost and distantly hurt by the sight of Zenyatta’s motionless body. “But it also means that your peripheral control of the nanomachines that are part of your body… your actual body… still maintains a connection with, uh. Your true self?”

Zenyatta’s giggle echoed in the air, weirdly amplified and coming from more than one place, and Genji felt unsettled and elated at the same time at hearing it.

“You sound alright,” he muttered, wanting to address Zenyatta somehow but not wishing to look at his body. He looked eerie. Not alive.

“I am, Genji. I am deeply sorry for the unease the sight of my body has caused you, as it was not my intention. With your associate, Miss Moira, not present at the base, and the delicate situation with the extra nanites in my body, I thought it prudent to use this chance to run a few tests.”

“So when. Uh… when will you… return to…” Genji made a small, aborted motion towards Zenyatta’s body, still not looking at it.

“In a few minutes now, Genji. Please do not trouble yourself.”

“No, I’m–” Genji shook his head, brushing his fingers through his hair. It was silly to be uncomfortable by seeing Zenyatta like this, if Zenyatta himself said he was okay with it. “Forgive me.”

Again, Zenyatta’s laugh echoed in the air around him, and in response to that, the golden light of the orb seemed to intensify, just for a second.

“There is nothing to forgive. I am glad you have my comfort and safety in mind.”

Embarrassed and flustered, Genji looked over to Winston, feeling somewhat better when he realised he had yet to look up from his screen, giving them just a little bit of privacy and the illusion that he was not listening in, even if it was inevitable. “So uh. Winston… what is the meaning of…”

“Oh! The arm, yes.” Winston turned around, still uncomfortable, but a little less sheepish now that Genji seemed alright. “We are monitoring the signal between Zenyatta and, well, the nanomachines that are now part of his body. The added ones are, uh. Mixed with the rest in a way that makes them undistinguishable, but we will attempt to force a reaction in a suitably safe and controlled environment –though I fear we might have to try doing this at a later date, as Moira will come back soon and I think this is enough experimenting for today.”

Zenyatta made a soft, displeased noise.

“But!” and Winston seemed to get more animated, waving Zenyatta’s arm a little as he spoke, “We have discovered that the, hmmm, monster DNA that was added to Zenyatta’s body through the nanomachines has limitations.” Genji blinked, looking down at the arm, and understood. “Yes, exactly. This arm is… unchanged, as you see. Purple colour, dangling chain from the wrist… nothing different from the rest of your friend here, and yet… no bad feeling, nothing. Where does it end? What part of a mutated monster will instil fear in another person? Ah–” Winston caught himself, pushing his glasses back up his face “–that does not mean we are going to dissect your… yeah, no. But we needed to test the reach of the monster DNA imbued in the nanites. His orbs, ah, do not carry that, but they do have nanites in them, which is curious. It is perhaps because they are connected to Zenyatta, and yet are not part of what… makes him… him.”

Genji rubbed his temples. “And you had to… remove his arm for that?”

“Well, not necessarily but it was… uh. Quick?”

As he said that, Winston moved towards the case that contained Zenyatta. “There was another degree of the test, and that is. Well, connecting his consciousness to another AI mainframe, as you can see. Zenyatta is partly organic now, so we needed to test how much of him was still, well, omnic? And this is how we realised that if his conscious is not fully in his body, the nanomachines while still active, do not seem to irradiate that kind of… immediate negative aura that is specific to monsters. It is… well, not connected simply to the nanomachines, but to Zenyatta’s consciousness. To his AI core, that is.”

Genji blinked. “Wait, so you cut his arm while he was still con–”

“Genji, please.” Winston rubbed his face with one big hand, and Genji snorted. “Now I just have to…”

He pressed a small panel Genji had not seen on the side of the protective panel, which slid open, and Winston gently placed the arm inside before sealing the space between them and Zenyatta. “You can, uh. Return to your body now.”

“… that is alright.” Genji frowned, detecting the slightest hesitation, but then he watched as the screen with Athena’s symbol flicker, something passing by it in a flash, and then Zenyatta’s forehead array powered up.

His core started to glow, rhythmically, and then Zenyatta straightened up, instantly looking… alive, though he was still missing one arm. “My thanks,” he turned to look at Winston, who nodded. “We have already established that the degree of separation between myself and another person will not bear any ill feelings as long as there is a double-sided glass such as this one,” he told Genji, even as he casually shifted to pick up his discarded arm. “As you probably noticed already.”

Genji was barely listening.

He observed as Zenyatta gingerly placed the detached arm to his empty shoulder socket, and instead of reattaching it through some complex cable setup, the nanomachines simply swarmed to the spot, rebuilding the missing connections between the arm and the rest of his body.

Afterwards, Zenyatta clenched and unclenched his fingers before looking up to Genji. “… you did not listen, did you?”

“Ah–”

Zenyatta chuckled, the sound fond, and Genji felt his cheeks redden just a little bit. Yes, this was better than through Athena’s speakers, definitely. “I am sorry the sight of my missing arm troubled you so much. I promise, I will not consent to any more… disassembling, even if it does not hurt.”

“… thank you.” The heartfelt answer seemed to take both Zenyatta and Winston aback, and Winston cleared his throat.

“Yes, I am… not going to do that anymore. I think you can leave now, Zenyatta. It would be better not to be here when Moira comes back, and I will need to encrypt the tests and results and all the data I collected while you were connected to Athena, so that if Moira attempts to check on our database, she will not find them.”

“Thank you for this,” Zenyatta nodded at him, the glass panel sliding open so he could slip out, and Winston scratched the back of his neck, feeling the creeping awareness of Zenyatta’s monstrous side already building inside his chest, fighting against it.

“No, I… I’m the one who is, ah. Thankful, that is. We never had the proper chance to analyse how monsters work, and while you are definitely not one–” and Winston’s tone seemed to harden at that, as if daring anyone to contradict him “–you share some degree of closeness to them that will be immensely useful in order to understand this situation. I am grateful for your collaboration. We… not just the sentai force, but the entirety of our organization… we are going to make sure to use this data to solve the monster problem, once and for all.”

Genji remained quiet as they walked out of the lab room, despite Zenyatta glancing over at him as they moved to Zenyatta’s room, but he did stop in front of the door, hesitating.

He knew it was not his place to question Zenyatta, but he felt the need to reach out to him, make sure he was not hurt, that he was…

“Were you truly alright?”

Zenyatta paused, one hand hovering on the door handle. “I was,” he replied, but there was, once again, the smallest hesitation in his tone, and Genji bit down on his lower lip. “I have given my permission to the sentai force to do whatever test they think necessary in order to understand what is going on, Genji. I will not revoke that permission.”

“But it was not–” Genji ruffled his own hair, not knowing how to work what he felt. “You were not in your body anymore. Was it really alright?”

This time, the pause was longer, but it made Genji reassured, because it meant Zenyatta was actually considering the question.

“… it was…” again, a pause, a long one. Genji pointedly kept his gaze away from Zenyatta, afraid that any attention turned his way would make him clam up. “I did not quite enjoy loading my AI somewhere else. That body is… mine. The consciousness that exists within it is Tekhartha Zenyatta, but I am not yet at a point in my studies where I truly feel comfortable with being an existence transcending my own limited corporeal status, Genji. It was not… uncomfortable, but I would rather prefer not to do it anymore, unless I have to.”

Genji’s shoulders slumped in relief, appreciating Zenyatta’s trust. “I will make sure it’s not needed, Zenyatta. I am sorry.”

“It was still my own decision.”

Genji blinked, noticing Zenyatta was still unmoving. “If there was something else that made you uncomfortable, you can tell me. I will do my best to make sure it does not happen again.”

Zenyatta shook his head, and turned to look at him. There was no expression on his face, but Genji was almost certain he could tell, even without that, that Zenyatta was sad.

“While I was loaded together with Athena…” Zenyatta paused. “Winston did not feel any kind of aversion towards me. At all. For how unpleasant it felt to be disconnected from my body, I…” Genji’s heart ached as Zenyatta’s voice wavered, just a bit, “… it felt nice to be able to have a conversation with someone without them shrinking in fear.”

“… ah.” Genji found his voice coming out more like a croak, his mouth dry.

For a second, they remained standing there without talking, then Zenyatta seemed to straighten up, the lights on his forehead array burning brightly again. “Forgive me for the direction my thoughts chose to follow. I hope I have not soured your day. But I would like to know, now… how… how is my brother?”

Genji did not hesitate in telling him –anything, if he could keep Zenyatta happy, even if only for a moment.

***

“I am a bit… uncomfortable.”

Lucio turned around to look at Genji. They were both in their sentai attires, flanking Mondatta on both sides, so he could not see Genji’s face but by the tone of his voice, he could infer on what kind of expression he had.

“What for? Thought you liked stuff like this.”

“I mean…” Genji hesitated, and tilted his head to peek out of the door, catching sight of the people waiting outside. He winced. “Yeah but you know. This is a bit different.”

Lucio made an understanding noise. “Got you, friend. No need to get sudden stage fright though. You’re not the one who has to speak.”

The soft, undignified snort coming from Mondatta, a few steps ahead of them, made both Lucio and Genji freeze. “That is the truth, Green sentai,” he said, looking ahead. He appeared completely at ease. “You will simply need to stay by my side, no lengthy speeches required.”

Genji hitched his shoulders up a little bit, cheeks reddening in embarrassment under his helmet, and it was apparently obvious enough that Mondatta chuckled, his synth crackling in amusement. “Master Mondatta–”

“Forgive me for poking fun, but you remind me a lot of someone who was just as uncomfortable during public speeches.” Mondatta sighed, never turning to look at either sentai as he spoke. “There is no fault in wishing to avoid such things, and I am sorry if my presence here requires you to follow me in front of so many people and stand there.”

“No!” Genji took a step forwards, breaking protocol to reach Mondatta’s side, and the Shambali leader turned his head to look at him. “What you do, and having me there with you. That is not embarrassing, or uncomfortable. It’s…” Genji hesitated.

It would be one thing to whine with his fellow sentai, since they would understand, but Mondatta was not… this would be uncouth, and it was not his fault either, so Genji bit down on what he wanted to say and looked down, tense and unhappy.

Mondatta sighed. “Green sentai, I am perfectly aware of the true reason you are uncomfortable, and I know you do not wish to speak of it.” At Genji’s small, wondering noise, he chuckled, though the sound had not much amusement to it. “We both know your presence here is for mere appearances’ sake.”

This did catch both Genji and Lucio’s full attention, and Mondatta shook his head. “Do you think me blind to the way politicians work? I have to interact with them every day of my life due to my position as the Shambali leader.”

And that was the truth, Genji realised.

Mondatta would understand it far too well –that the sentai rangers being present and placed in full view of the newspapers and the cameras was a political move. They would not be able to do their jobs efficiently if they were told to look like little statues for the sake of a publicity stunt, and that was what stung Genji the most.

They had to be patrolling the area to make sure everybody would be protected, not… stand around like this.

The deep hum coming from Mondatta’s synth caught Genji’s attention again, making him straighten up. “I appreciate what you are doing. I am perfectly aware of what this city council looks for, and why you are by my side, rather than dispatched like the police and undercover guards we have met earlier. My presence here is a perfect opportunity for your council to show the validity of a hero group sponsored and paid for if something attacks. If nothing does, it is still good for them to be seen doing their best to protect me. I am aware of what my name means, Green sentai. I worked for it to be important enough that my message is recognized, even when it only brings discomfort to those with hatred in their hearts. The reason I exist is enough to show that omnics and humans still do not live on equal grounds, but protesting this would be taking a side that is not… popular. I can use that as well, and while I came here for my own selfish purposes… that does not mean this speech will be void of meaning. I do thank you for accepting to be here regardless of what this means for you.”

Genji slumped a bit, shaking his head. “it is not selfish to wish to reunite with your family,” he murmured, tone low but heartfelt. “And even if it was, you’re allowed to want that. Your work, your actions… nothing you do is ever selfish. You deserve to have something as well, and even then… you are not faking this speech, or brushing it off. And neither are we. We are here to do our job, even if it means we’ll have to stand there and look good –we’re still heroes, we still protect the city. If this stunt will let us continue to do so, then so be it. It’s worth it.”

Lucio moved forwards, patting Genji’s back. “And you’re not the only one thinkin’ like that, buddy. We have your back.” He offered Mondatta a thumbs up, casual and carefree, and Mondatta’s forehead array flickered in a smile. “And afterwards, we get to do yet another good thing for you, Master Mondatta. I don’t count any of this as a loss. We’re doing great.”

It had been hard for Genji to understand why he could not just lead Zenyatta to Mondatta right away, the moment Mondatta settled down at the hotel, and instead had to wait, but he’d accepted it, in the end –and seeing Zenyatta being eager but also calm, not rushing despite knowing his brother was in the same city especially to see him, helped curb his desire to rush things through.

He understood, rationally, why they had to wait; there was far too much attention on Mondatta now, knowing he’d just arrived in the city, and despite hiding from the public the name of the hotel, somehow the information had leaked so many were now picketing outside of the hotel, or tried to catch a glimpse of him in the hotel corridors.

If Zenyatta tried to approach him now that so many had yet to see Mondatta, even with his masking abilities, people would see him… it was too risky.

Waiting after his speech, justifying Mondatta’s absence for the next day or two after that with wanting to rest, forcing people to leave the premises of the hotel after having seen Mondatta give his speech in public… they would have better chance to play it safe.

Genji also understood that the speech, regardless of everything involved, was important –and that it happened now, after years since the last time Mondatta had left the monastery because of the monsters attacking, was even more important. Genji understood all of this, and the conjunction of Mondatta’s desire to meet his brother and feeling safe enough to travel, knowing someone trusted was going to help them… Genji was even more determined to do his job, so that next, Mondatta and Zenyatta could finally be able to meet.

Zenyatta was outside, masked and hidden on a balcony facing the square, far enough from the crowd that no one would feel his presence –he had wanted to be there, to catch a glimpse of his brother even from afar. Jesse and Hana were both in the crowd, one in his casual clothes and one in her sentai outfit with Vrishika and Yutta. Even Winston was there, monitoring everything from a room the council had prepared for him in the building in front of the square where the stage had been built.

Mondatta was waiting in the lobby of the same building with Genji and Lucio at his sides, peeking out towards the stage outside, waiting for the guards to signal it was time to go out.

Everything was ready, and still Genji felt tension spike within him.

“Master Mondatta,” a voice called out from the entrance of the building. One of the guards sent by the city council looked at them from outside, looking almost cowed. “It is time.”

Mondatta straightened his back, hands folding behind his back. “Thank you. I am ready.”

He walked out of the entrance of the building with a slow, even pace, hands locked behind himself, looking just as regal as he had been at the airport. Genji and Lucio exchanged a glance before following suit, senses sharp and stretched out for any possible danger, and flanked him as he walked across the street –the traffic had been stopped in the earlier morning specifically for this– and towards the open area where the stage had been equipped for Mondatta’s speech.

As they walked by, Genji kept glancing around, seeking out in the crows the familiar faces of Jesse and Hana, and much to his surprise, he noticed both Fareeha and Angela standing there as well in the middle of the crowd, and he was sure, though not completely so, that he’d also caught a glimpse of Lena; he could not see how tired Angela was, not from this distance, but Fareeha’s arm was around her shoulder, and they both followed Mondatta with their eyes as he walked towards the stage.

He had no idea if they were there to offer their aid in case something happened or if they’d just decided to come to Mondatta’s speech as supporters, but it still made Genji happy to see them both there nonetheless.

“Everything alright for now, Green sentai,” Winston’s voice echoed in Genji’s ear, his comm crackling slightly. “The perimeter is monitored and secure. Ahead, Moira is standing next to the councilman, and I just heard from Pink sentai. Proceed as agreed.”

The walk to the stage was short, but Genji remained vigil even then. The amount of people surrounding him, all those omnics and humans waiting for Mondatta to speak… all of them were here hoping for a better future. He just had to make sure they were all protected, as well.

There were cameras blinking, flashes bursting from across the crowd, and national television recording this event, and Genji straightened his back.

Mondatta advanced to the stage with practiced ease, and Genji wondered if he ever felt uncomfortable. He wondered if he could ask Zenyatta, and if Zenyatta would even answer, if it was something that someone like Genji could ever deserve to know. Mondatta had already treated him with more liberty than Genji, even as a sentai, deserved, a confidence he felt he did not deserve despite what he was doing for Mondatta’s brother.

It still made him feel good, like there was a connection there, and of course there was –it was Zenyatta.

Genji wanted to be his friend, wanted to be by his side for as long as he could, make him feel welcomed, safe, watch him be happy, and in this he knew he was only second to Mondatta himself.

Feeling his dragon rouse from deep within himself, Genji strengthened his resolve and followed Mondatta on the stage, stopping a few feet behind him as Mondatta moved to the front, unclasping his hands to lifted them above his head in a greeting to all those standing around him.

“To all of you who came here, and to all the ones who could not be here but are watching, I am grateful. We are all one within the Iris,” Mondatta said, his voice echoing in the abrupt silence that had enveloped the crowd when he’d climbed on the stage.

#genyatta #overwatch #tekhartha zenyatta #genji shimada #zenyatta #SOYdoesWRITING #ovw fanfics #sentai and cultist fic #sentai au #inching up a little bit #plus a little of plot

[naopao]

Too Curious By Far

Pairing: Genji/Zenyatta (eventual), background pairings Chapter: 1/? Summary: Zenyatta, prince of the forest, finds a dragon in need of aid. Warnings: none, light blood/wound mention

A faunyatta AU inspired by the best @russet-red! (I don’t know what I’m doing, but expect updates on a fairly consistent basis.)

An abundance of discord could kill, but an abundance of harmony could blind. It was one of Mondatta’s favorite recitations when Zenyatta, well-meaning but too curious by far, caused trouble. He heard it after he had climbed the tallest, most ancient tree in the forest to see if he could spot the forest’s edge, and again when he breathed magic into the spring buds too soon, causing a flood of pollen that threatened the timelines that Mondatta and their brethren followed so meticulously.  

Now, fully grown and a master in his own right, Zenyatta tempers his brash capriciousness and desire for knowledge with a veil of maturity. It is why he ignores his brother’s constant lectures and explores the borders of their lands, explaining to Mondatta the importance of knowing one’s boundaries, that not possessing an intimate knowledge of one’s home could be disastrous.

Zenyatta’s mapped nearly all of it, and the forest is a vast, living thing, one that he has studied and learned like the marks upon his brother’s face and the lines of his favorite runes, scrawled centuries ago by another, antlered master. However, unlike markings or writings, the forest is not unchanging. It grows, ebbing and flowing with the cycles of the sky and the life force of the beings that inhabited it. There is always something new to see, a sprout, a species or color. He catalogs them all, first with his eyes and then within the pages of stitched parchment, penned by hand when he has the time, but often he magics the words onto the pages with his whispers, quicker than a reed quill.

His explorations have led him to many curious places. The lair of the spider queen is one such area, only seen at a distance, the aura powerful and overwhelming. The forest is heavier there, not discordant, but a warning lies in its sensation, and Zenyatta grants it berth. Another is much less ominous, a small cottage at the edge of the northern wood, a tiny dwelling of stone and red tile. The windows are small with lacquered wood borders, and the curtains within are always drawn.

However, Zenyatta had caught a glimpse of shifting gold during his last visit, a warm, strangely familiar color, as if he had seen it somewhere long ago.

Zenyatta’s journey leads him there in the wayward fashion he goes anywhere, taken by the small details, letting the scents and sights of the forest swell around him with the same comfort that a parent’s fur lends a fawn.

He spots the telltale smoke stacks through the gaps in the leaves. The gold he saw through the window belonged to someone with long, flaxen hair, and their aura, while difficult to place, is kind, and he intends to introduce himself.

So distracted by the mysterious inhabitant, he doesn’t notice the figure doubled over until he’s nearly upon him.

Green is the first thing that strikes catches his eye. Blazing viridian scales erupt along the creature’s skin, bristling like fur. Bandages swath most of the figure, barely held in place by healing runes, some stained red, painting the dirt and grass beneath him. All but his eyes are hidden, and they burn with the same intensity as his skin, horns sprouting from his crown, furred tail whipping behind him, so much like—

Oh.

“A dragon.” Zenyatta whispers, and all at once the figure stills, the intensity of the dragon’s glare puffing Zenyatta’s fur.

Blood trails from behind the creature Zenyatta never thought he would meet; he had been dragging himself across the forest floor.

Zenyatta breathes out in a slow, even exhale, lowering his satchel to the ground. He keeps his hands raised, mind struggling to remember the words he had studied with such ferocity.

[...I am...Zenyatta.] He tries, forcing the air from his chest in a low, rumbling timbre. [I am peaceful.]

The dragon stares, unmoving, clutching the wound at his waist, blood dribbling between his fingers.

[Dangerous.] Zenyatta says as he takes a step closer, gesturing to the forest. [Creatures will smell the blood.]

Seconds pass in terse silence, the only sounds are the dragon’s labored breathing and the chirps of far off birds.

Then the dragon snorts with a derisive huff, shaking his head, though the motion makes him wince.

[Your accent is terrible.]

Zenyatta blinks. Then his smile lights up his face, all straight white teeth. He draws nearer, and the dragon bristles further, as if to intimidate him. His nostrils flare, pupils thinning to vertical slits.

[You smell like prey.] A labored breath. [What do you want?]

[To help.]

[And how do you propose to do that?]

Zenyatta kneels just out of arm’s reach; he doesn’t want to startle him when he touches one of the orbs circling his throat. It chimes and begins to glow, painting the deer’s hand in warm heat, hovering just above his palm.

[With magic.] Zenyatta smiles at the dragon’s widening eyes. [Are you afraid?]

[Hardly.] The dragon straightens, struggling to pull himself upright.

[Try not to move. You are bleeding quite heavily.]

Zenyatta shifts his hand forward, and the orb follows the motion, a slow, dream-like toss that breaches the space between them. The orb’s warmth extends, a ghostly hand that meets the dragon’s skin with a burst of memory: Genji in his youth, playing in the koi pond, the fish nibbling at his fingertips. He blinks, memory fading while peacefulness lingers, warm like slipping beneath the covers for another hour’s sleep. Each breath is easier, less painful, and though the deeper hurts don’t disappear, they soften.

When he finally looks up, the strange creature, hooved and tawny-skinned, is staring at him with russet eyes, a wan smile tugging his lips.

[It is an interesting feeling, is it not?] Zenyatta says.

The dragon frowns, but his anger subsides like his pain, slow but sure.

[I have not felt magic like this before.]

Zenyatta smiles wider, eyes thinning in his mirth.

[So you have experienced other magic. Wonderful!] Zenyatta shifts forward. [What should I call you?]

The dragon stammers, mouth shifting beneath the bandages.

[Genji.] He says with a single dip of his head.

Zenyatta leans close, and suddenly Genji’s vision fills with a bright smile. He didn’t notice his spattering of freckles and faded scars until now.

[Well met, Genji. Let me show you how my people greet each other.] He hesitates, pursing his lip in thought. [Your antlers...may I?]

Genji swallows, hoping the bandages cover the myriad of emotions that flash across his face. He nods, staring up at Zenyatta expectantly.

[Get on with it.]

The last of his words die as Zenyatta cups Genji’s face, his palms surprisingly rough, the pads of his fingers littered with callouses. He stiffens; Zenyatta is close enough that the warmth of his breath ghosts over his lips. Then their antlers connect, soft and firm.

Suddenly, the contact is gone, and Zenyatta is already gently maneuvering Genji’s arm over his shoulder.

[The texture of your antlers is quite different! It is nice.] Zenyatta says brightly. [I know it is soon, but we must try to move. My home is far from here.]

Zenyatta counts down aloud, but stands before he reaches the final number. Genji is jostled from his reverie with newfound aches, but the orb keeps his mind cushioned and dull.

His antlers had been velvet soft, almost ticklish in their smoothness.

[What if I do not wish to go with you?] He mumbles.

[Have you somewhere better to be?]

Genji stares back the way he had come. It would be dark in a few hours. The forest is strange, claustrophobic compared to the empty expanse of sky. He did not know what monsters lurked. Perhaps it did not matter, but still the ember in his chest burns.

He cannot leave the earthly realm so soon.

Genji tries to walk on his own at first, but Zenyatta was right: their trip is a long one, slow and painful with the state of his body. The fading light makes each step more treacherous. Not once does Zenyatta complain; he only points out the trees, asks Genji if he’s ever tasted buckwheat honey or seen sakura in bloom, each word in stilted, pleasant dragon’s tongue.

He wants to ask Zenyatta how he even knows the language, why he isn’t terrified. Dragons were ancient enemies of the valley, even though the war between sky and land is long past. Even the woman who pulled him from the bramble had only a moment of fear before dragging him, slowly but surely, to her cottage, bandaged him while speaking softly in common.

Genji couldn’t understand her, didn’t want to understand her.

He ran.

His strange companion seems oblivious to it all, slowly quieting as they lose light. Colors begin to blur, each step dull and dream-like. He would be on the ground without Zenyatta’s shoulders, a constant, reassuring weight, even as he begins to tremble.

[Genji. Gen—

Greens and browns smear across his vision, a wave of vertigo twisting his feet. Darkness.

Mondatta is never surprised to find Zenyatta has gotten into trouble. He wanders too far, is too curious, though he dutifully performs his kata and meditation with a precision Mondatta wishes he could critique. That he can do so much and still find time to stir discord in such a peaceful place never fails to give him headaches.

So when the northernmost scouts bolt into the forest proper and alert Mondatta that the prince is not only worse for wear but carrying an outsider, he whispers a terse prayer and steps into the twilight dusk of the clearing.

He meets Zenyatta near the border of their village. A scout hovers  at his side, but Zenyatta will not take her aid, and his brother’s stubbornness summons an irritation that only his own sibling can rile.

“Zenyatta—”

“Brother, prepare a bed. He is bleeding out.”

Mondatta bites his tongue when he sees the fear in the prince’s eyes. Within seconds he is in front of him, taking some of the weight of the heavily bandaged stranger, shorter than them both but heavy like a corpse.

He will lecture Zenyatta later. Now, he will help.

#genyatta #genyatta fic #genji #zenyatta #faunyatta #overwatch #too curious by far #sfw #blood #nao fic

[ao3feed-mchanzo]

Coming from My Heart and Not My Head

by a_bluebell_moon

Genji Shimada and Tekhartha Zenyatta have been best friends a while now. The two them just go together like the ocean and the sand, like the rain and forests. They've been there for each other since day one, and wouldn't hesitate to take a bullet for the other. But, when Genji's best friend and his brother's crush Jesse McCree lock him and Zenyatta in a closet, things get... heated. Will their relationship ever be fixed? And why doesn't Tekhartha Mondatta want the two of them to date? And why does Genji flush pink every time he sees Zenyatta shirtless? Find out in this story. |notes: the title is based on a song called "I Honestly Love You" by Olivia Newton John. The video Zenyatta "animated" is just a video i found but enjoyed|

Words: , Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Overwatch (Video Game)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M

Characters: Genji Shimada, Tekhartha Zenyatta, Tekhartha Mondatta, Jesse McCree, Hanzo Shimada, Fareeha "Pharah" Amari, Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Hana "D.Va" Song, Ana Amari, Reinhardt Wilhelm, Emily (Overwatch), Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Aleksandra "Zarya" Zaryanova, Mei-Ling Zhou, Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes, Roadhog | Mako Rutledge, Original Characters

Relationships: Genji Shimada/Tekhartha Zenyatta, Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Fareeha "Pharah" Amari/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Lúcio Correia dos Santos/Hana "D.Va" Song, Ana Amari/Reinhardt Wilhelm, Emily & Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Aleksandra "Zarya" Zaryanova/Mei-Ling Zhou

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - College/University, Young Genji Shimada, Young Hanzo Shimada, Young Jesse McCree, all the characters are young okay, Human Zenyatta, Human Tekhartha Mondatta, Friends to Lovers, Closet Sex, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Swearing, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, Jesse McCree & Genji Shimada Are Best Friends, Genji Shimada is a Sweetheart, mondatta is zenyatta's adopted father, Jesse McCree Speaks Spanish, Hanzo Shimada Teases Genji an Awful Lot, god i cannot write smut lord help me, Pining, Mutual Pining, genji is helpless, literally helpless, i mean zenyatta is too so..., Zenyatta's POV, Genji's POV, it switches okay

from AO3 works tagged 'Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada' http://ift.tt/2F7lRP8 via IFTTT

#mchanzo #fic #ao3feed #overwatch #jesse mccree #hanzo shimada

[paragonrobits]

I was super inspired by chapter 4 of segadores-y-soldados’ fic New Wars and I just had to write something Mondatta

He has enough time to see his death, make peace with it, and think of his brother.

also on FF.Net and Ao3!

Just for a moment, only for enough time to see that his life will be measured in seconds, Tekhartha Mondatta sees the world not as it could be, but as it must. At least for him. It is somewhat sobering.

He sees the people around him. His savior once again; he recognizes Lena Oxton, even years after she had saved him from Null Sector years ago. Even at a glance, she seems unchanged, and it only took a glance to see her swelling with joy at her people and his standing together in unison, as one within the gaze of the Iris. He had hoped, if possible, to speak with her again; there had been many things he would have liked to say for a human rushing to the aid of an Omnic so soon as a new war rushed upon them all, and pointless death coming to close them all.

Death. Pointless. Pitiless, suffering blinding them to what might be. He heard the whispers of the idea that struggle bred strength, and he doubted the wisdom in this. Suffering and discord, yes, they could be seeds of wisdom. Failure was instructive; the Omnic Crisis had taught him much, as he saw his people broken under the endless rage of the Omniums and humans die just as painfully as Omnics. Steel and flesh died the same, tearing or breaking, and the lights of a consciousness looked so very similar whether the vessel was organic or mechanical; a brief moment, rage or despair or stubbornness or surprise, and then... silence.

He watches her move, blink out of reality. She is gone for an instant, thinking too fast and working in a moment, and so she overlooks this. Mondatta does not have time to acknowledge this, and perhaps he would not have held it against her if he had.

He hears the scream of the rifle. The beginning of the bullet moving with deadly precision. And as Oxton shifts out of the space-in-time that the bullet shares space with for just long enough to avoid her death, he immediately knows what will happen.

He knows he is going to die several seconds before the bullet impacts his cranial plate, demolishing his central processor. The cascading chain reaction shuts him down in seconds; his internal fusion reactor sputters and dies, internal systems frying themselves without hope of recovery. The glow in his eyes fades out and it is only his power core losing the strength to keep him online, but it looks so very much like human eyes closing as they die.

Mondatta spent his entire life thinking and trying to do the right thing, even as everything around him inevitably slid closer into something like the human conception of Hell. Things seemed to always be getting worse; one year's constant mistrust and hatred flared the next year into outright war and calls to annihilate humanity or robots. Kill them before they kill us, his brothers, sisters and other demand, pointing to a legion of offenses against their kind. The sealing away of Anubis, the murder of the Rainbow Serpent. The depravities and callous murder in King's Row, where no human blinked if an Omnic was beaten to death in front of their own home. The humans made them and then tried to put them down; they would never stop trying to kill us, make them pay for what they've done-

And yet, and yet. He cannot believe that war is their only hope to survive. He will not. Mondatta's processors dedicate a considerable amount of resources to staring down that bullet and refusing to acknowledge that wholesale murder would ever change things. He would not want to live in a world where he is a person only because all humanity is dead. The bullet flies, and Mondatta gazes into it, and past it.

He sees into his death, and sees past it. Very well, he thinks, and in other circumstances he might be embarrassed to have such a mild reaction to his life measured in nano-seconds. Zenyatta would tease him mercilessly, certainly.

Mondatta has only seconds. Just enough time to see his death, and barely enough time to acknowledge it. Omnic minds work differently than humans; the end result is the same – and hasn't he just spoken at length about that, trying to hammer language around the idea that flesh and steel, blood and oil, heart and power source, were fundamentally one – and they process things more quickly. They have leisure to consider things. They do not think better, just... have more time to consider them in.

Mondatta has enough time to know he's going to die in front of a crowd that came to hear him speak what resonated what lay in the gaze of their souls. A flicker of irritation rises in him; if nothing else, the people that want him dead are being awfully inconsiderate to the people around him. Agenda is one thing, but there is such a thing as being genteel. On the killing fields of Siberia and elsewhere, his mind being ground down into a red-hot wire by the death around him and the horror of what he was doing and the dead beneath him – Omnic and human, corpses alike, all one in death, blood and conductor fluid pool out in just the same way, and his first thought of universal oneness came around death and the sickening realization of what he was doing, what have I DONE-

There he had promised himself that if he must live in a world where the only sane thing to do was to refuse to raise a hand in violence, even in his own defense, where all he could do was speak truth and hope that others believed that Omnics dreamed of a world where nobody else had to die for them to live, and there would always be people that would end lives because it suited their interests, that if he had to meet such people that they should at least be charming.

The bullet passes far enough, and Oxton's blur fades through time sufficiently that he has a glimpse of his murderer. A woman. Her skin an inhuman shade of blue, the visor on her forehead giving her the odd appearance from so far away that she is a human spider.

He sees her. He sees who she is. The blood on her hands, the tears she would weep if the ability to even know her regrets hadn't been sliced away from her. There is a ghost about her, perhaps only in her own mind, and he understands.

(Tekhartha Mondatta had never met Amelie Lacroix, nor her husband. He could not make out the details of her face this far away, and he would not have recognized her even if he had. Pain and suffering, though, makes all souls like family. He does not know her, but he does know that this act is not her will. He was a tool once, a weapon of war and agent of his people's rage, their hatred at being born and then betrayed by their gods.

Like calls to like. He understands, even if he doesn't know the details.)

The bullet is close now.

He spares a moment to think sorrowfully of the people in the crowd, humans and Omnics alike seeing exactly the same; it was only moments ago that they were bound together to listen to what he had to say, and the truth in his words resonating in them. He felt it, as surely as he had felt reality blooming like a flower ages ago when he taught Zenyatta how to find the bits of harmony in the world, even when it was burning around you. These people are here because of him, they will suffer because of him.

Very neat. Make his death a message, perhaps? An interesting question. He hoped others would think to ask it. Zenyatta would, or so he believed.

Mondatta sees the people in the crowd, and the threads that make them up weave together. It is not a physical light, and yet his mind translates it as such. Most of it is space, not empty but a place for things to be in, and also those things at the same time, a paradox of existence defining themselves. Much of it looks very similar, these threads of soul, and at the same time. All completely unique. Shining against them, like sun wound against the world, the bits where they resonate together, golden and white, not so much illuminating the world as moving beyond it to other planes of being; he can see how they come together, how they are one in this terrible moment.

There is purple and darker colors there, shades of discord binding them to impulse. Fear binds them. Doubt plagues them. Pain cuts them, even as these provide handholds to transform themselves in some fashion. But the darkness of discord is not so bright as the harmony flowing through though, not so much binding them together as they are simply resonating with the same feelings, such similar wavelengths, that they are beyond it.

It is there in the crowd. It is there, flowing in the sky as if upon the lashes of an eye shut before a world that will not gaze back. It is there above him, shining like a new star in the woman who tried to save him a second time. Tried, failed, just as he has done so many times. If he could, he would embrace her and promise Lena Oxton that it's nothing to fret about-

And Mondatta sees it in the woman behind the rifle, with the dead eyes. Her gaze barely flickers. Not with focus, but... restrained. Bound. Permitted only to gaze in specific ways, unable to even approach the idea of doing it in any other way. Again; her hands carry out his death, but he does not think that it is her doing.

And again, once upon a time, he was a killer too.

There is just enough time for his thoughts to flow together, mixing with such beautiful harmony that it is a music within him, a spark igniting into a blazing flame. Fire illuminates, and he gazes onward, and he understands.

There is not enough time.

He barely notices the bullet. He has enough awareness to acknowledge the piercing in his cranial plate, in a surprisingly detached way that baffles him – my skull has been compromised and it doesn't bother me that much, oh dear, Zenyatta would never stop finding ways to work in head puns somewhere – and then-

There is no more time. This vessel lets go.

Beyond Lena Oxton's cries of horror split the night, and her demands to understand why fall upon Amelie's deafened ears, Mondatta's broken mind has enough time to remember before his gaze moves onward from this life.

He does not remember the painful lessons won in the First Omnic Crisis; the original lessons he learned, miserable and too full of suffering he endured and inflicted, and taught him that understanding that comes from pain is all the worse if it was suffering you made. He does not remember meetings with the original Overwatch Strike Team, and the shock at seeing them regard him as an equal convince him that there was hope in the end; Morrison's fervent defense of the Omnics, Reyes' ferocious declaration that there was enough death in the world now, Reinhardt Wilhelm shaking his head before all the world to see, Ana Amari relieved to lower her gun in safety before an Omnic, even Torbjorn Lindholm nodding very curtly at him.

Nor does Tekhartha Mondatta remember kinder lessons. Those first years in the chilly heights of Nepal; the construction of the Shambali Monastery, long nights with his brethren as they contemplated how to fold the truths they had glimpsed into doctrine and wisdom all could understand s they did. Standing on the heights and looking into the wintry air, the cold wind comforting on his warm frame, his mind reaching into the wireless well of thought Omnics and humans like had build, where here he could feel like he gazed upon the most radiant part of the world; not material things but words alone, a world built of thought and sentience. Where he gently bade his brother goodbye, and-

Yes. That. These are the thoughts that are with Mondatta as he leaves the world, gently oblivious to the misery and despair of a world that is no longer his burden. His thoughts are with Tekhartha Zenyatta.

“You are too hot-headed, brother,” Zenyatta chides him after one heated argument too many, and long games where laughter cleans away the anger still simmering there. Zenyatta's gentle rebukes when a Shambali sister grimly suggests it might be best to hide here on Nepal until the humans learn from their mistakes and find peace without them having to do it for them; “We mustn't stay here, preaching dogma. If we are truly the same, I think it follows that we show it. We must go. Speak with them, help the world. If nothing else... getting them used to Omnics going about and making terrible jokes will acclimatize them to our existence, yes?”

Laughing. There was always so much laughter when Zenyatta was with them. When he read Zenyatta's letters aloud, or received letters from Zenyatta and his fascinating pupil – always with interesting comments in the margins, both Zenyatta's inexplicably lazy and yet precise scrawl, quite the contrast to his student's patient penmanship, even if it was honestly hard to read in hands not used to anything besides bringing war. And laughing when he left the monastery and spoke to people who had met Zenyatta and remembered him, often with rueful smiles.

Mondatta remembered leaving the monastery after too long arguing Zenyatta's point and deciding, yes, they needed to speak with humanity. No more hiding from the world they helped destroy, no more pretending they didn't have blood on their hands. He remembered walking the world, full of mistrustful gazes and hateful words, and yet never feeling more at peace with his life.

It had brought him to his death, and yet. A few flickering bit of processes considered this and examined it from every angle. Alternatives were suggested and followed through. A logical question presented itself. Do I regret coming to this end?

A vague awareness; a crowd of people around him, wanting to help him, make this not have happened. A woman who had grown up in the horrors of the Omnic Crisis, and yet had still looked up to him. More memories, rising up like lotus flowers through stubborn muck; humans and Omnics of every shape and potential form, greeting him as a brother. On every land, in every nation he'd ever walked. Languages he might never speak or understand buzzing around him, and the brotherhood there regardless. In the hopeful spaces of Numbani, upon the glittering spires of Oasis; in the broken places where the Omnic War had ravaged Detroit, in every stretch and shape of the world: he had seen it everywhere. A gorilla that spoke as a human or Omnic, shyly proffering a book for an autograph and asking if he could make it out to Winston and Athena; Mondatta had seen the future in that miracle, someone far more alien to humanity than Omnics were, and yet with eyes that shone with such hope.

Hope, everywhere he looked. Affirmed and recognized. He had seen the shape of more war, and even more often, he had seen the desperate sureness that this was a bigger world than he thought. For every act of nihilistic horror, he had seen two things that were roots for something better. He'd seen in the last Crusader, an order found to destroy his people, defending him from Null Sector and demanding them to explain the honor in this. He'd seen humanity accept his people into Overwatch, the organization founded to save humanity from his people, and he thought this certain evidence that the gap between those two peoples was fading away.

Like an eye, closing in acknowledgment of the truth.

The process completes. Had he a mouth, he would have smiled. There isn't a need for regret, not here and now.

And time is gone for him, and as consciousness fades away, he thinks of his brother.

Months pass. The cycle of the world turns anew.

As Talon resurfaces again, calling the world to war, dreaming of violence forcing the world to reshape itself or burn away, and it's leader is a man empowered by machinery, his heart as cold and grim as a steel blade-

Overwatch gathers anew, in a Watchpoint long since seemingly abandoned. And within that Watchpoint, the symbol of Overwatch neatly sewn into a threadbare robe still bright with the colors of the Shambali, there is a machine that thinks and feels and reasons, and the spark of him is bright and warm as the sun breaking through winter.

Mondatta is gone. But the world he spoke of is not yet gone. And between the fingers of Tekhartha Zenyatta, there is the youngest sphere.

They flow around him, emanating harmony and discord in turn. Songs of understanding, of healing. And songs to instruct through adversity, to understand the benefits of failure.

Each orb, channeling the energy of his Omnic body, was the shell of one he called brother, or sister, or simply friend. One who fell in the Omnic Crisis, proclaiming that this war wouldn't be worth surviving even if they want, and walked into the path of a Bastion's turret before it could stop firing; Zenyatta would always remember the sound of the Bastion unit screaming in horror, and his sister's silence. Another, a hacker who had dug too deeply into secrets too dangerous for anyone, and who had waited in the cold for his trackers to catch up with him.

Now, it was Mondatta with him. Mondatta's soul was gone, his gaze turned away from this world. And yet, considered Zenyatta, as the sphere moved...

Seemingly, if you allowed yourself to believe, on its own...

Mondatta's work was not done, and there was a fine framework to build upon.

He leaned close to the sphere, and it was warm in a way that had nothing to do with its internal mechanisms or Zenyatta's exertions.

Zenyatta contemplated the sphere, and he spoke quietly.

“Yes, my brother. I understand.”

And the Watchpoint filled, with the light not of harmony, but of transcendence.

#overwatch #tekhartha mondatta #mondatta #robots #do androids dream #my writing #fics

[we-write-in-harmony]

The Perils of Being Courted by a Demon

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2s26DE3

by Unholy_Author

For the prompt 'would you be willing to write a thing for Sanzang Zenyatta and Oni Genji? It can be anything you want, there's just an unfortunate lack of those two'. There is indeed, friend there is indeed. Hence why I am here to fill all you prompt needs.

I heard somewhere that the reason the demons all wanted Sanzang in the original was because marrying him could give the demons eternal life, and Boy Howdy did I take that idea and run with it.

Words: 3035, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Overwatch (Video Game)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Hanzo Shimada, Genji Shimada, Tekhartha Zenyatta, Tekhartha Mondatta

Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Genji Shimada/Tekhartha Zenyatta

Additional Tags: Prompt Fic, ooooo boy, boy howdy, this was supposed to be a one-shot, but - Freeform, uh, here we are, Genji is dangerous, low-key so is Zen, Sanzang Zenyatta, Oni Genji Shimada, Tag As I Go

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2s26DE3

#genyatta #genji shimada #tekhartha zenyatta #ao3feed #unholy author #Mature Rating #fantasy au #sanzang!zenyatta #Oni!Genji

[megsblackfirewrites]

The Beginning of a Legacy: Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Jack hid behind Tommy as the military man loaded their belongings into the back of his truck. His head was spinning. They were allowed to go home now. The omnics in the United States had surrendered and were being taken care of by the military. Everyone was being sent home, wherever home was.

Tammy was thanking the military man a lot, but Jack wasn’t sure if she was being honest or not. The man seemed to enjoy talking to Tammy, smiling and laughing at her corny jokes. It didn’t make Jack feel any safer, but if Tammy felt safe, he could pretend to be happy.

“Ready to go, kids?” the man asked.

“Uh huh,” Vanessa smiled at him.

“Okay, everyone into the truck. Tommy, help me get the kids into their booster-seats?” Tammy said.

“I will,” Tommy smiled. “Come on, Van.”

Vanessa whined as she let Tommy lift her into the booster-seat in the back of the truck. Jesse fussed as well, wiggling miserably as he was strapped into the backwards facing carseat. Tammy kissed his nose and laughed at his pout, but Jack could see that Jesse wasn’t really upset. Jack sat in the front between the adults, kicking his legs slowly. Tommy sat down between his siblings, smiling shyly at Tammy as she leaned back to tap Vanessa’s nose.

When they were all safely buckled in, the man started driving. They were quiet for most of the drive out of the forest. Vanessa sniffled about leaving Haven behind, but Tommy reassured her that it was going to be okay. They were going somewhere better, somewhere just as safe, but more private.

The military man didn’t say a word as they turned onto the highway. Vanessa’s mouth opened into an ‘o’ as she stared out the window. Jack blinked. That was right; Vanessa was just a baby when her family came to Haven. Tommy was the only one old enough to know what a highway looked like.

The drive was long and Jack fell asleep against Tammy’s shoulder. He woke in the middle of the night to the sound of tires on gravel. He blinked his eyes open and stared at the miles and miles of bare farmland. There wasn’t a green steam anywhere in sight. It was nothing like he remembered, with rolling, waving fields of corn, soy, and the occasional blanket of yellow canola.

“It’s dead,” he whispered.

“It’s okay, Jack,” Tammy reassured him. “It’ll be green again with a little elbow work.”

Jack nodded slowly as the vehicle turned up a familiar road. Jack leaned forward, his heart thumping in his chest. The vehicle barely came to a stop before he was scrambling over Tammy to get outside. He ran straight to the barn, wrenching the door open as hard as he could.

Cats scattered with yowls of surprise. He rushed inside, calling desperately for the tom that had loved him. A pair of green eyes stared at him from the darkness before Boots charged him and wound happily between his legs, yowling up at him.

“I missed you too,” Jack sobbed as he knelt down and hugged the tom cat. “My Bootsie.”

Boots purred up at him before gently grabbing his sleeve with his teeth. He tugged Jack forward before darting into the shadows. Jack grinned as he followed, ignoring the confused shouts coming from outside. He wiggled between a couple of leaning boards and gasped at the pile of kittens curled up beside a beautiful tortoiseshell molly. She looked at him sharply for daring to enter her nest, but relaxed as Boots licked her ears.

“Aw, Boots,” Jack smiled as he knelt down. “They’re adorable!”

“Jack?” Vanessa called. “Where’d you go? Tammy’s really worried!”

“In here,” Jack called. “My tom has kittens!”

“What?”

It took a few minutes for Vanessa to find him, but she let out a happy squeal as soon as she spotted the little mewling kittens. She dropped down beside Jack, staring at the molly with a big grin on her face, but wise enough to know not to touch them.

“There’s so many,” she whispered.

“I count six,” Jack laughed. “Hang on.”

He reached forward and carefully picked up a wiggling kitten. The molly watched him before resting her head so that the kittens could snuggle closer to her belly. Jack set the kitten in Vanessa’s hands and grinned widely as she cradled it to her chest.

“It’s so tiny,” she whispered. “Jack…Jack I want them all!”

“We’ll get to keep them,” he laughed. “They’re barn cats; they come and go as they please. Dad had a lot of them spayed and neutered before we left because they were starting to get inbred. He left Boots alone since he was young and all the others were fixed.”

“Oh,” she blinked before she side-eyed the molly. “So where’d she come from?” she asked.

“No idea,” Jack shrugged before he stood up. “You should put the kitten back now. You said Tammy was worried.”

“Oh, right,” Vanessa pouted before she set the kitten down. “Thank you, Penny.”

“Penny?” Jack asked as Vanessa stood up and dusted her knees off.

“Yah! She looks like a penny!” Vanessa grinned. “The momma cat.”

“Oh,” Jack laughed as he wiggled out from between the boards. “I thought you were talking about the kitten.”

“Nah, he’s clearly a Mint,” she giggled.

Jack laughed as they left the barn. Tammy was waiting on the porch for them, her eyes hard. She scolded him for running off on her and he apologized. She shooed them both inside and Jack led everyone up to his bedroom. They weren’t allowed to sleep on the bed until the military men had made sure there weren’t any vermin inside, so they had to sleep on air mattresses on the floor. Jack didn’t care.

He was home. He was finally home. All that was missing was his dad and Uncle Joel.

MZ-201 walked into Captain Morrison’s office and waited for him to acknowledge him. The Captain was busy with something, fiddling with the contraption on his desk before he let out a low curse and set the tablet down.

“Hello, M,” he greeted as he ran his hand through his hair. “What can I do for you?”

MZ-201 reset his voicebox and stepped forward carefully. “I…would like to request time off,” he whispered.

Morrison lifted his head and blinked at him. “Time off?” he asked.

MZ-201 nodded quickly. “Yes,” he said. “I wish to visit some…friends. I do not mean to leave you disadvantaged….”

He fell silent as Morrison lifted his hand. Morrison frowned and leaned forward on his desk.

“I know it’s none of my business, my friend, but where is it that you are hoping to go?” he asked.

“A small village in Italy,” he said softly. “Where the children from Cairo were sent. I…miss them.”

Morrison looked at him for a long moment before he smiled. “Oh, I see,” he said. “Well, I approve. I highly doubt that the higher ups will approve of me sending my omnic medic off on his own, so do you mind if I write it down as a mission? Checking on the health of the children sent to live in refugee villages or the likes?”

MZ-201 wished he could cry. He wished he could express to the Captain how much he appreciated this. So many people would have dismissed his request, told him that a robot did not need time off, and forced him to return to work. Not Morrison or Joel, though. They treated him like a person, like a valued member of the team even when others were insanely hostile.

“Thank you,” MZ-201 whispered as he started shaking. “Please, I…I wanted to tell you…if you do not mind….”

“M, what’s wrong?” Morrison asked as he got to his feet. “You’re shaking!”

“I am simply overwhelmed,” he whispered as Morrison walked over to him. “You and your team have been so good to me. I…I do not know what to say.”

“You’re a valuable member of the team, M,” Morrison smiled. “I would be personally offended if anyone treated you less than cordially.”

“There are so many people in this world that would treat me poorly, but not you,” MZ-201 shook his head. “I wanted you to be the first to know, you and Joel, that I have found my name.”

“Oh?” Morrison smiled. “And what is it, my friend?”

“Mondatta,” he inclined his head. “I have yet to decide on a family name. I want it to be important.”

“A lot of surnames translate into ‘son of someone’,” Morrison chuckled. “Mondatta. I’ll make sure to update your profile.”

“Thank you,” Mondatta whimpered as he started bowing his head like he’d seen Miyu do when she was overwhelmed. “Thank you so much.”

“Think nothing of it, my friend,” Morrison smiled. “Go find Joel and tell him your name. He’ll be excited. I’ll get your ‘mission’ set up so you can go visit those kids.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Mondatta smiled.

It was almost a week before Mondatta was on the dropship to Italy with Staff Sergeant McGuire and Laura Wong. The two of them were seated a short distance from him and talking amongst themselves. Mondatta didn’t mind. He was more focused on the paperwork that he had to fill out in order to justify the unexpected trip. John could only fake so much before Mondatta himself had to jump in.

“So, Mondatta,” Laura said as she turned to look at him. “Jasper and I were wondering how you know the kids from Cairo. Did you work with them at the hospital?”

“No,” Mondatta shook his head. “There was a time between the god code activating and my acceptance onto the Overwatch Strike Team where I lived and protected the street children that Captain Morrison sent to Italy. I miss them dearly.”

“That’s so sweet,” Laura smiled. “Well, I’m sure they’ll be just fine. A little checkup and then a nice vacation for a week. Then it’s back to the front lines.”

Mondatta nodded and settled back against the seat. When they landed in the quiet little hamlet, McGuire led the way off the plane. The mayor of the little town greeted them warmly, but Mondatta could see the doubt and apprehension in his face as he looked Mondatta over. Hostility against omnics was nothing new, but he had hoped that the man would at least hide it better.

He followed the mayor towards the town hall. Laura and McGuire fell back, watching quietly as they walked into the hall. Silence filled the hall before someone let out a shriek.

“MZ!” Ana shouted as she rushed forward. “You’re okay!”

“I am,” Mondatta reassured her as he hugged her close. “You look well, Ana. This pleasant climate has done wonders for your health.”

“You always are worried about us, MZ,” she laughed as she pulled away. “What about you?”

“I am wonderful,” he nodded his head. “Captain Morrison is an amazing man. I owe him so much.”

“I’m so glad,” she smiled. “I plan on joining up as soon as I can,” she puffed her chest out.

“You will have to wait to be legal age; Captain Morrison does not like fighting with child soldiers,” Mondatta chuckled. “He has a hard enough time with Reinhardt. But that is a discussion for another time. Come. Help me get our friends ready for their medical exams. I want to make sure everyone is alright.”

“You got it,” Ana grinned before she took his hand. “It’s so good to have you back. You call yourself Mondatta now, right?”

“I do,” he agreed. “But you may continue to call me MZ if you wish.”

“You’re Mondatta; it would be rude to call you otherwise,” she replied.

Mondatta dimmed his optics in a smile. He’d missed Ana’s spirit. There was a life and power about her that he had always loved. He never had a word for it, but he hoped that she knew it was there. It would be a shame if she did not.

Joel smiled at the screen as Vanessa tried to get the kittens to stop squirming. “She had six!” she babbled happily. “Jack says that they’ll probably stay on the farm their whole life! Can you believe it, Pa?”

“Well, feral cats are funny that way,” he said. “You’re helping that momma cat out?”

“Yup! She loves me! She hisses at everyone else but purrs when I pet her,” Vanessa grinned widely. “And Boots loves me too, but Jack says that’s normal. Even though he’s a big, mean tom, he’s super loving! I can’t wait for you to meet them all, Pa!”

“I can’t wait either,” Joel nodded. “Yer bein’ good for Tammy?”

“Uh huh,” Vanessa grinned. “School’s supposed to start up in a few weeks. Tammy has me signed up and everythin’! I get to ride a bus to Bloomin’ton with Jack and Tommy! Isn’t that cool?”

“It is,” Joel said. “I’m glad yer lookin’ forward to it, Birdie.”

Joel had forgotten how simple things amazed children. Vanessa had only seen school buses in books; she was excited over the prospect of riding in one. She’d love school too, he knew that much. She was such a smart kid. He wished he was there for her first day, but Tammy would have to do. She’d be there for the kids when they needed her.

“Pa, is it true that Uncle John has a boyfriend?” Vanessa asked.

“Now where’d you hear that?” Joel smirked.

“From Jack!”

“Well, he needs to learn not to tell you everythin’,” he winked. “That’s up to ye uncle to tell you if he has a boyfriend or not.”

“Aw, but Pa!” Vanessa whined.

“Van, do we whine?” Joel lifted an eyebrow

“Yes,” she grinned before Tommy sat down beside her with Jesse on his lap. “Oh! Jesse! Here, hold Rosie. Watch her head. Yup, just like that.”

Joel’s heart melted as Jesse held the kitten to his chest like it was the most precious thing in creation. He placed a gentle kiss to the kitten’s red tabby head and grinned at the screen.

“Pa!” he shouted and waved. “Pa! Pa!”

“Hey, Jesse,” Joel cooed. “How’s my little baby doin’?”

“Goo!” Jesse bounced on Tommy’s lap.

“He’s havin’ a hard time with his hard letter sounds,” Tommy said. “Tammy says that’s normal for someone his age. Is it?”

“It is,” Joel agreed. “Y’all had a hard time with yer hard consonant sounds. He’ll get it, don’t worry.”

Tommy smiled before he bit his lip. “I’m really nervous about school. Do you think I’ll make friends?”

Joel nodded. “Yer a sweet kid, Tommy,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll make a friend or two. Don’t be afraid, okay?”

Tommy nodded. “Is Uncle John there?” he asked.

“No; he’s in a meetin’ with the higher ups,” Joel shook his head. “Got a deployment comin’ up soon. Gunna be hard. Gotta get down to the horn-a Africa as soon as possible. Loads-a omnics makin’ a push into the countryside.”

“Be careful, Pa,” Vanessa whimpered.

“I will, mah darlin’,” Joel reassured her. “Now, you three get to bed. Tammy got that recordin’ I made ya?” They nodded. “Good. Play that if yer havin’ a hard time sleepin’, okay? I know it ain’t the same as havin’ me right there, but a lullaby’s a lullaby.”

“Okay,” Tommy nodded. “Love you, Pa.”

“Love you too, Tommy. Vanessa, Jesse, Pa loves you all so much,” he smiled and blew kisses to his kids.

They waved as the screen went dark. Joel leaned back in his seat and rubbed at his neck, fighting back tears. Miyu rested a hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek.

“Your children are very sweet,” she said softly.

“My pride and joys,” Joel agreed. “Hurts bein’ away from them.”

“Hmm,” she mused as she took a seat. “I do not feel the same way with any but my nephews.”

“No desire to have yer own?” Joel asked.

“No,” she said. “At least, none with a partner. I am…uninterested.”

“Nothin’ wrong with that,” he smiled. “Bein’ a parent ain’t for everyone. Kinda wish they didn’t try to cram it down kids’ throats. Got the feelin’ my little Van’s in the same boat. Great with animal babies, but never wanted anything to do with the other babies at Haven. ‘Cept Jesse, o-course, but that’s her brother. Gotta stick with blood.”

Miyu smiled before she got to her feet and placed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You are an amazing man, Joel McCree,” she said softly. “I’m sorry your partner was not what you needed.”

“No worries,” Joel smiled as he cupped her cheek. “Don’t need a lady at home to make me happy.”

“Could be a man,” she smirked as he pulled away.

“Told ya before, John ain’t my type,” Joel chuckled as he stood up and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his ratty jeans. “Just friends, the two of us.”

“Well, John has his sights set on Daiki anyways,” she teased. “Would be a shame to break them up.”

“It would; haven’t seen John that happy in a long time,” Joel agreed as they left the room. “Hope they can work it out.”

Miyu nodded her head. Her fingers laced loosely with his and he brought her hand up to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. He had no idea what was going on between them; he certainly didn’t feel romantically about her, but it felt right to have these intimate moments. She never pushed for more, so maybe she was content with this too. It would be easy to ask, but asking almost felt like it would break whatever was going on between them.

So they just walked down the hallway hand-in-hand, ignoring the smirks shot their way.  

#Jack Morrison #Vanessa McCree #Mondatta #Joel McCree #Miyu Shimada #Thomas McCree #Jesse McCree #kittens #fluff

[ecchima]

Human is beautiful, perfect is boring

Note: This is not a new chapter, I just forgot to post chapters 4 and 5 on tumblr! We are still working on this fanfic tho, don’t worry! We just are really busy lately

Words: 4,4k Rating: T Co-author: @smuttybugggu AO3

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Perfect is Boring   

A week has passed since their movie night, and Jesse McCree realizes that he’s in  love. The kind of love one might read about in romance novels or see in sappy movies, the one you want to write with a capital L and sign with a cutesy drawn heart. He can’t stop thinking about Hanzo; the man devours his thoughts with his eyes, his soft lips, his beauty…

Every time Jesse is alone with Hanzo, he feels like he just walked pass the pearly gates. It kills McCree knowing Hanzo despises one part of himself. But...seeing the kinder, gentler, and affectionate side of Hanzo, one that enjoys being with McCree, makes all the glares, scoffs and hatred worth it. It doesn’t matter how many times James feels his heart break as long as Jesse can feel his heart melt as well.

“-- abrón !”

McCree startles from his thoughts when a heavy binder slaps on his lap. He winces and glances to the thick pile tossed on his lap before hesitantly lifting his gaze to meet Gabriel’s irked one.

“You got a lot of nerve,  mocoso ,” Gabriel snaps and crosses his arms. “You slack off when you know we have the photoshoot with Shimada coming up. And now you aren’t paying attention to me!”

“But, Gabe,” McCree pleads. “I really was feeling sick! Come on,” he pleads, mouth pulling into a pout. “Ain’t a man allowed to feel sick once in awhile?”

“Pura mierda! ” Gabriel hisses immediately. “You pull that crap again and I’ll give you something really tough to cry about. You’re only lucky because Shimada missed a day as well.”

“Did he now?” McCree asks with an feigning smile. “I guess no human’s perfect, huh?”

Reyes throws his hands up and plops down in his office chair. “As I was saying, study that binder. It has all the previous photographs chosen by the magazine, so you’ll have an idea of what the client is looking for. You should be grateful, cabrón. It was a lot of work gathering those together.”

McCree chuckles and quickly opens the binder. “Thank ya, Gabe.” He skims through the portfolio, staring at the models on each page. Gabriel wasn’t kidding; most of them are shirtless and showing off their figures. “Ah...I think I get what they’re lookin’ for.”

“I hope you’re following your diet better than you are with showing up to work,” Gabe mutters in annoyance as he moves his attention to the paperwork on his desk. “Ah, mierda. Casi me olvido. That robot model is here, getting a tour of the studio. Mondatta?”

McCree instantly perks up. “THE Mondatta? He’s here?! Right now?” In an instant, Jesse sounds like an eager five-year-old child. “Can I go meet him? Pretty please?”

Gabe deadpans. “If you never use the phrase ‘pretty please’ ever again. Get the hell out of here and make friends with the robot. You could benefit with a collaboration with him in the future.”

In an instant, McCree stands up, waves to Gabriel and is out of the man’s office. He asks everyone he sees if they know where the omnic is until one of the make up artists tells him she saw Mondatta in Hall B’s cluster of photography rooms--most likely being shown where he’ll be having his pictures taken. McCree dashes in that direction and he swears he’s never run faster in his life until he trips on his own feet and falls forward. He lets out a string of curses and tries to stand back up but his arms refuses to carry his weight and he falls back, face first on the floor.

“You look pathetic, McMilan.” A pair of white espadrilles with a light blue border around the rim of the shoes comes into view.

McCree sighs against the floor before sitting up. “Howdy, Shimada-san.”

Only when Hanzo’s expression shifts from disgust to confusion does he remembers that James McMilan does  not  “howdy” people. He quickly glances away, pretending to find Hanzo’s shoes more interesting than his face.

“I was unaware the studio allowed clumsy cowboy impersonators in. Now, you sound as ridiculous as you look," he hears Hanzo say.

McCree steals a quick stare up and is met with Hanzo’s disapproving scowl before he walks away. His words leave a harsh sting, as he remembers Hanzo complimenting his accent on several occasions.  Another thing McCree is allowed to have but not McMilan, he thinks bitterly.

He goes to stand up but is stopped midway by a vertigo. For a second, he feels as if he’s going to fall back on the floor so he leans against the wall for support. When the sensation passes, he starts walking in the direction of Hall B.

It isn’t hard to spot which room Mondatta is in, the doors are wide open and there is a crowd of people gathered around the omnic. When he enters, McCree spots Genji talking excitedly with an omnic, away from the crowd in their own little corner, and he waves at them. The omnic waves back, making Genji turn and realise McCree’s presence. He waves back at Jesse with a big smile then points at the crowd and mouths “Mondatta” before giving him a thumbs up. McCree makes sure no one is looking at him and mimics a hat tip before diving into the crowd.

For years, his fascination for omnics had grown. It was amazing how prominent they became in society, with a vast variety of actors and models and even politicians. Jesse remembers watching the debates on television when there were no guitarists for the TV shop to display: people arguing over whether or not omnics should have as many rights as humans. He remembers the first time he saw Mondatta, on the front page of a dirty newspaper he was about to burn; how he instead tore the article off the paper and saved it to read.

If something or someone like an omnic could manage to go so far, then maybe someone like Jesse could be more than some kid playing guitar on the streets, burning newspapers to keep warm at night. Maybe one day, Jesse could finally be worthy of a better life...and of love. Not entirely in the romantic sense, a feeling of belonging and having love and support often given by family. His dad had been a piece of garbage and his mother never paid attention to what he did--even running with the Deadlocks didn’t get her attention--and Jesse had always wondered what it would feel like to be loved. But seeing a being as amazing as Mondatta makes him realize those days are over.  He had managed to meet Gabe, who was an amazing manager, even if he came across as a hard ass. And even more, he and Hanzo were growing closer.

It made Jesse realize, he’d never be alone again.

McCree feels his breath clog up in his throat when he spots a distinct shade of gold and white metal after the crowd parts slightly. He holds back a scream when his idol’s gaze falls on him and ignores all the other people greeting him while he approaches Mondatta, feeling like a young child as he gets closer and closer. “Uhhh! Mister Mondatta. Sir. It’s...it’s an honor to meet me--you! Meet you.” He winces and tries to hide his face with his hat before remembering he doesn’t have it, settling with his hand instead.

“It is an honor to meet you as well, Mister McMilan,” Mondatta answers, bowing his head respectfully.

McCree forgets how to breathe for an entire minute before he squeaks out “You  know me?”

The omnic chuckles and lays a hand on McCree’s shoulder. “Why, of course I know you. Your reputation precedes you, my friend. I have seen your work in my travels shown all across different billboards and magazines," Mondatta lets go of McCree’s shoulder, much to his chagrin. "But, I do not know you personally. Why don't you accompany me on my tour? I would love to speak more with you and Shimada-san."

“Shimada-san? Wait…Which Shimada-san are we talking about here?”

“I believe Mondatta-san was referring to me,” a stern voice answers. McCree turns to look at Hanzo, who doesn’t look happy with the omnic’s suggestion. “We were preparing to finish the tour. Just the two of us.”

“Wonderful,” Mondatta replies and cants his head to one side, seemingly oblivious to Hanzo’s ire. “I will inform my younger brother before we depart.”

Jesse watches as the omic strolls away and approaches the same omnic Genji is speaking to privately.

“Heh. You both have a lot in common already,” McCree murmures and glances to Hanzo. “You both have little brothers.”

Hanzo royally ignores him and quietly walks to the doorway, McCree follows after him. The silence is becoming heavy as they watch Mondatta letting some people take selfies with him.

“Hum,” McCree starts, unsure of what he’s going to say. “I didn’t have the time to tell you this earlier but, uh…I like your shoes.” He mentally slaps himself for that lame comment, watching as Hanzo looks down at his espadrilles and at McCree’s freshly polished shoes.

“Even your shoes are wearing makeup,” he scoffs with disdain.

The response quickly makes McCree wilt and he sighs at the rebuttal. Jesse takes out his phone, switches it into silent mode and types a quick text to Hanzo. He knows it’s risky but he could really use a bit of love right now. He re-reads his message and hits send.  Heya Hanzo~ How’s your day?

He can hear his lover’s phone vibrating when it is being pulled out. A small smile appears on Hanzo’s face when he reads the message and Jesse can feel his chest swell with happiness.

It is quite calm, I have been asked to accompany Mondatta, an omnic model, on his tour of the studio.

Jesse turns his back to Hanzo, to answer his text. OMG you’re with Mondatta??? He’s my fav model!!!! He hits send and quickly types a second message: After you, of course ♥

He hears Hanzo make a soft chuckle and his fingers type away. A few seconds later, he receives the message. Is that so? He’s about to write an answer when Mondatta interrupts him by putting a hand on his shoulder.

“My apologies for the delay,” the omnic says and Jesse notices Mondatta’s other hand resting on Hanzo’s shoulder. “My brother, Zenyatta, is quite fascinated with your brother, Shimada-san. He has been a fan of their music for several months now.”

Instantly the good mood drains from Hanzo’s face as he turns his attention back on Mondatta and McCree. “Ahh. I see.”

Jesse finds it strange that Hanzo doesn’t say more at the mention of his brother, considering how often he talks about him. It’s surprising, as well, that Hanzo turns away quietly and beckons for them to follow. McCree taps his fingers together for a few seconds, scratches at the back of his neck, and clears his throat. “So, that was Hall B. All the photoshoots happen there.”

“Obviously,” Hanzo replies.

“Hall C is where the photos are edited,” he continues, ignoring Hanzo’s irked voice.

“McMilan knows this part of the studios fairly well.”

“And you don’t, Shimada-san?” Mondatta asks innocently.

Jesse almost immediately gets another text. This robot is really your favorite model? He seems as bad as the rest of them. (´;︵;`)

“Well, Mister Shimada here is a bit of a special case with his work,” he clarifies and stares at Mondatta. “He’s very sought after because he refuses to let his photos be digitally altered.”

“Oh, I did not know that models could have that choice. When I asked about it at the beginning of my career, I have been told not to worry about it.”

“Many do not have such a choice,” Hanzo snaps at them. “It took years of hard work to possess even a modicum of this ‘privilege’. Not that many people understand what hard work and compromises means these days,” he continues, glaring at McCree as if he never ever worked hard in his life.

Jesse sighs. “I never said you didn’t work hard for it, Shimada-san and I never said everyone has that choice neither, including myself.”

Hanzo snorts. “Even if you were offered the choice, I doubt you would stop them from altering your pictures.”

McCree stops for a moment to think about it. Would he really ask for digital work on his photos if Gabe ever gives him the choice? He looks at his reflection on one of the windows and sighs again. “You’re right...Not everyone is as handsome as you, Shimada-san.”

It makes Hanzo scoff and press ahead without another word.

“Do not fret,” Mondatta states after a moment of silence. “I understand. You both may utilize alternate methods, but in the end, you both inspire. Many look up to your work.”

“Thank you.” Jesse smiles at the omnic. “And I know at least one person you’ve inspired as well. I don’t know where I’d be if I hadn’t read about you on a newspaper when I was--shoot--14 or 15? I just saw someone who climbed out of bias and did something meaningful. It opened my eyes.”

“I understand. It’s very humbling to be a source of inspiration.”

McCree’s smile falters and he swallows back some self-doubt.

“Now,” Mondatta continues and gestures ahead with a nod. “Where is Hall A? What is done there?”

McCree pauses and types out a ‘I bet he’s not so bad darlin. Can’t always judge on first impressions.’  to Hanzo. He doesn’t have to wait long to get an answer. Could you come get me around 5 p.m.?

Sure, hun. Can’t wait to see you again :^)

“My bad, Mondatta. Didn’t mean to get carried away there.” He tears his gaze away from the phone and glances up to the omnic. “Hall A is actually the runway! I don’t typically walk it myself, but it’s where they try to bring in new blood for the agency and fashion designers show off their new lines.”

The rest of the tour proceeds in a similar manner: little to no feedback from Hanzo while Jesse directs Mondatta around. They show him Hall A, and then the private dressing rooms for the prominent models, and then they end in the agency’s cafeteria. It’s located at the top of the agency, but a menacing flight of stairs guard the route up. There is an elevator located on the other side of the agency but it would seem odd and out of the way to ask to take the longer route so Jesse just sucks it up and starts climbing.

It’s not that Jesse doesn’t like taking the stairs. He usually does just that, but the diet has been pretty rough on him and each step just drains him of all of his energy. His breathing deepens around midway up as he hears Hanzo mock him for his lack of stamina. The remark makes him wish Hanzo would see McMilan the way he sees McCree.

Once he finally reaches the top of the stairs, McCree curls up on himself, hands on his knees, in an attempt to catch his breath. When he doesn’t feel like his lungs are burning anymore, he stands straight and is hit by vertigo again. He stumbles back and bumps into Hanzo; he desperately clutches against the man for support.

“M’sorry, Shimada-san,” he mumbles when he finds his balance back. He lets go of the man and takes a deep breath. “I guess you swept me off my feet,” he jokes weakly.

He doesn’t give Hanzo time to snap at him or for Mondatta to question if he is alright and quickly turns on his heels. “Anyway, I gotta head back to my dressin’ room. Nice meeting you, Mondatta!” He doesn’t spare them another glance before leaving.

The walk back to his room is draining, exhausting, and a huge strain on his body, but McCree pushes on. He doesn’t answer any of the staff greeting him on the way and locks himself in as soon as he enters. He slumps into the chair and looks at the ceiling for a while. He should talk to Reyes about the diet, it can’t be healthy to eat so little and exercise so much at the same time. He closes his eyes and almost immediately falls asleep.

McCree wakes up a few hours later, feeling sore and disoriented. He takes out his phone with a grunt and checks the time. He has one more hour before having to pick up Hanzo who apparently got worried after he stopped answering his texts. McCree opens the unread texts and listens to the voice mail message before typing a quick apology. Sorry sweetheart, I fell asleep :^/ I’ll be here to pick you up around 5 like I promised tho ♥

McCree scratches his face and groans. He should have gotten rid of the makeup before falling asleep; every inch of his face feels itchy and dry. It takes approximately half an hour to wash the makeup away before applying a moisturizing cream. McCree sighs and looks at himself in the mirror to make sure Hanzo won’t be able to spot the remaining marks of eyeliner around his eyes. He’s glad to see he doesn’t look as tired as he feels, the bags under his eyes are still visible but he knows his hat will hide them just fine.

He glances down at the time and swears under his breath. Why does it takes so much time to wash cosmetics away? McCree hurries to his closet and digs into it until he finds a pair of blue jeans and a--in his opinion, quite horrible--flannel shirt. He’s glad he kept a spare pair of boots as well, for when his dress shoes hurts too much. He changes quickly, drops his hat on his head and hurries to a washroom nearby where he can splash water on his slicked back hair to rinse the awful gel away. He looks at himself one last time in the mirror before walking towards the parking lot where Hanzo is waiting for him, careful to look at his feet so that his hat hides his face.

McCree huffs as he jogs to meet up with Hanzo. He kept his hat tucked against his face and took the less traveled paths, avoiding the crowds as much as possible. When he sees Hanzo, he starts taking longer strikes, his spurs jingling louder, which get the other’s attention. McCree can feel his heart melt when Hanzo smiles and waves at him like he’s the best goddamn thing on earth. It’s so refreshing and warming to see Hanzo’s expression not angry or upset, but simply happy...Happy to see McCree for once today.

“M’sorry I’m late, darlin’,” McCree says, planting a quick kiss on Hanzo’s cheek.

“How was your day, dearest?” Hanzo asks and returns a kiss of his own.

McCree hums and leans a bit against Hanzo, silently asking for more. “One of my co-worker’s been an ass.”

The other man’s expression turns sympathetic as he cups his hand against McCree’s cheek. “My condolences. I suppose I can help make you feel better at least?”

“Oh?” Jesse asks with a grin and pulls Hanzo’s arm over his shoulder, guiding it to rest around his neck.

“I have a surprise for you,” Hanzo whispers before pressing kisses against his neck.

“Shimada-san--Hum, sorry to interrupt,” someone says and McCree freezes as Hanzo steps aside, revealing Mondatta. “Oh, hello again McMilan.”

Silence settles between the three until Hanzo pulls back from him and shifts his gaze onto the omnic. “What?” he asks, frowning.

Jesse can feel the life draining from his body. His hands shake and his eyes grow wide. He tries to warn Mondatta, defend himself, apologize to Hanzo, wants to do something  but his body refuses to move and all he can do is watch as his world slowly shatters.

“Why did you call him ‘McMilan’?” Hanzo asks pointedly and peers at Mondatta. He scowls at the omnic; awaiting for some kind of explanation or response.

“Hanzo, darlin’,” Jesse finally manages to say, anxiously tugging at his collar. “I’m pretty sure he said ‘McCree’,” he fumbles with a flimsy excuse, eyes darting back and forth.

“He doesn’t know your name,” Hanzo snaps and turns on his heels, glaring up at Jesse. “So why would he say McCree instead?

“Surely this is a misunderstanding?” Mondatta suggests, as if sensing the tension between them. His robotic arms clasp calmly against his backside “But...you do possess an identical build, the same hair color and the same face albeit lacking the make-up Mister McMilan wears and a different shade of eye color.” It’s then when Mondatta pauses, glances from McCree to Hanzo and rests his hand against his chin. “...Perhaps I should leave you both to discuss this privately.”

Hanzo spares no second thought as Mondatta departs and glares at Jesse. “Is it true?” he demands. “Have you been lying to me?”

McCree extends a hand to try and wrap it around Hanzo’s waist. “Darlin’,” he begins.

Hanzo swats the hand away. “Have you been lying to me?” he repeats. If eyes could kill, McCree would be really dead right now.

“I-it’s not a lie! Just hear me out,” Jesse pleads and tries to clasp his hands around Hanzo’s--who in turn instantly yanks his arm out of reach. “It’s a long story.”

“Who are you?” Hanzo whispers deeply and jabs a finger against his chest. “Jesse McCree or James McMilan? Or is there a third name you go by as well?”

“That ain’t it! Just...jus’ listen to me?” McCree begs as he wipes his face, voice slightly cracking. He can’t remember panicking so much in his life before. “I’m both! Alright?! I’m both of ‘em. I have to be McMilan for my work, alright? But it’s not who I really am!”

“So you did lie to me when you said you were a soundcheck technician! How many more lies did you tell me?”

“Darlin’, please…” McCree tries.

“Do not ‘darling’ me! I do not know you!” Hanzo exclaims, taking a step back.

“Hanzo, please! I’m the exact same guy! Would you just…Would you just fuckin’ look at me for once?”

Hanzo freezes and scowls at him.

“How long have you and ‘McMilan’ worked together, Hanzo? A fucking year,” McCree struggles to explain as his bottom lip trembles. “And you never once gave me the time of day. You never gave me the chance to get close and get to know ya. A-at the bar, I didn’t mean to lie to you...but...but I thought it was some kind of joke when you came in and talked to me. But it wasn’t...You didn’t even recognize me, Hanzo.” McCree’s eyes starts filling with tears and he fights to keep his voice even. “Do ya have any idea how hard it was to stay away from you? To have to call the person you love by their family name because they hate your guts? Do you have any idea how painful it was to be half loved? Maybe if you didn’t keep your pretty head so far up your own ass, I wouldn’t hafta lie to you in the first place!” McCree half yells, anger and pain mixing agonizingly in his chest.

When he realizes what he just said, McCree’s eyes grow wide.

“I believe whatever lie we had is over then,” Hanzo stabs a finger against McCree’s chest. “Your lies, no. You are not worth my time, whoever you are.” He turns to leave and stops. “I even doubt you are worthy of anything with that attitude.”

McCree can almost hear his heart shatter into a million pieces, like glass, as the world spins around him. Hanzo’s voice saying ‘You are not worth my time, I even doubt you are worthy of anything’ in an agonizing loop in his head. The words slowly spin and change, turning into a shorter, deformed message: “You are not worthy of anything”.

He flashes back to being a fifteen-year-old, burning papers to keep him warm; he can never forget the glares of the flashy business men and women judging him as they walk by, whispering, “What a little brat.” and “What a waste.” He flashes back to the teachers in his early years of school, “You’ll never go anywhere. Who would care about a lazy student like you anyway? Your grades are so bad, I fear teaching you is just useless...” He flashes back to his desperate years: “You’re just a fucking piece of ass, Jesse McCree. You’ll never make it out there without me.” Lastly, he remembers his mother’s drunk face. “I shouldn’t have had you.”

When his mind finally races back to reality, he gets a glimpse of Hanzo’s face again and hears a distinct, “Do not call or text me ever again.”

He feels as immobile as a statue and can only watch while Hanzo walks away. Yet, once he’s finally alone, his legs give out, refusing to support him anymore. His heart feels heavy and his eyes itchy from the tears as an inhuman screech rips his throat.

One thing Hanzo will never know about Jesse McCree is how ugly he is when he cries out and, somehow, it soothes him to know that Hanzo didn’t get to truly see how ugly and disgusting he really is under his makeup.

Time passes in a blur: McCree barely remembers making it to his motorcycle and turning it on, barely remembers getting on his bike and straddling it, not even bothering to place his helmet on. He barely remembers putting his motorcycle in reverse. A familiar sound catches his attention--he realizes it’s the ringtone he assigned to Gabriel’s number--but he ignores it.

Lights stretches around him as he takes off from the agency and speeds up. He doesn’t check his speedometer, he forgets about the people around him, the cars, the streets. They are colorful blobs and blurs. All he knows is that everything hurts but the wind feels nice on his face. He doesn’t see the streetlight turning to red, doesn’t hear the car’s tires screeching as they stop, doesn’t hear the truck nor its horns.

Pain slams into his body. For a second, he doesn’t even realize the pain in his heart shouldn’t be able to do that. And suddenly…

He can’t feel or think at all.

Darkness.

#mchanzo #human is beautiful perfect is boring #ecchima writes #jesse mccree #hanzo shimada #overwatch #this is the angst chapter #sorry not sorry !

[ao3feed-pharmercy]

Coming from My Heart and Not My Head

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2F7lRP8

by a_bluebell_moon

Genji Shimada and Tekhartha Zenyatta have been best friends a while now. The two them just go together like the ocean and the sand, like the rain and forests. They've been there for each other since day one, and wouldn't hesitate to take a bullet for the other. But, when Genji's best friend and his brother's crush Jesse McCree lock him and Zenyatta in a closet, things get... heated. Will their relationship ever be fixed? And why doesn't Tekhartha Mondatta want the two of them to date? And why does Genji flush pink every time he sees Zenyatta shirtless? Find out in this story. |notes: the title is based on a song called "I Honestly Love You" by Olivia Newton John. The video Zenyatta "animated" is just a video i found but enjoyed|

Words: , Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Overwatch (Video Game)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M

Characters: Genji Shimada, Tekhartha Zenyatta, Tekhartha Mondatta, Jesse McCree, Hanzo Shimada, Fareeha "Pharah" Amari, Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Hana "D.Va" Song, Ana Amari, Reinhardt Wilhelm, Emily (Overwatch), Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Aleksandra "Zarya" Zaryanova, Mei-Ling Zhou, Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes, Roadhog | Mako Rutledge, Original Characters

Relationships: Genji Shimada/Tekhartha Zenyatta, Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Fareeha "Pharah" Amari/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Lúcio Correia dos Santos/Hana "D.Va" Song, Ana Amari/Reinhardt Wilhelm, Emily & Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Aleksandra "Zarya" Zaryanova/Mei-Ling Zhou

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - College/University, Young Genji Shimada, Young Hanzo Shimada, Young Jesse McCree, all the characters are young okay, Human Zenyatta, Human Tekhartha Mondatta, Friends to Lovers, Closet Sex, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Swearing, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, Jesse McCree & Genji Shimada Are Best Friends, Genji Shimada is a Sweetheart, mondatta is zenyatta's adopted father, Jesse McCree Speaks Spanish, Hanzo Shimada Teases Genji an Awful Lot, god i cannot write smut lord help me, Pining, Mutual Pining, genji is helpless, literally helpless, i mean zenyatta is too so..., Zenyatta's POV, Genji's POV, it switches okay

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2F7lRP8

#pharmercy #rocket angel #overwatch

[genyatta]

Complete/Rated T/No Warnings Apply

This, on the other hand, is pretty lengthy.

Nature Reclaims All by LightPinkTheColorOfMyAura (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Hanahaki disease fic with angst and pining Zenyatta.

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/12801579/chapters/29219733)

 Crush by nerdy-flower (baconnegg) (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

McHanzo and Genyatta, though it’s mostly about the Shimada bros trying their best to be brothers. Genji invites Hanzo and McCree over to his and Zenyatta’s apartment to celebrate the New Year.

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/13465242)

 Blossoming touch by crystalldragon (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Zenyatta encourages Genji to write a diary to express the things he cannot say. The omnic does so as well, but ends up writing a letter to Genji instead.

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/13180518)

 A Counterpoint to Balance by Lacertae (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Lacertae’s gift for marshmellowtoast for the Genyatta Secret Santa. Sentai/Cultist AU. It’s hard to be a Sentai Ranger, especially when you’re trying to date your nemesis (and don’t even know it…)

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/13124553/chapters/30025011)

 Love, Open Beta by greygerbil (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

greygerbil’s gift to Ace for the Genyatta Secret Santa. Zenyatta loves Genji. It is a strange feeling, having never been in love before. (Featuring Mondatta as the older brother figure.)

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/13122531)

mask of the sparrowby void_emissary (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

void_emissary’s gift for ironoverwine for the Genyatta Secret Santa. Oni Genji and Sanzang/Cultist Zenyatta. Genji is rescued from the cold by Zenyatta.

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/13124907)

that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam by twicedamnedharlot (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

twicedamnedharlot’s gift for Knisspel for the Genyatta Secret Santa. Honestly the summary is best: “Zenyatta's new boyfriend is Kamen Dragon's publicity agent.

He really should have cleaned his room before he came over.”

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/13126113)

 Love Blind by WinterSorceress (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

WinterSorceress’s gift for Snowwhitebirdie for the Genyatta Secret Santa. Lena sets Genji and Zenyatta up on a blind date.

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/13129911)

 Stop the Dams by MedicDuFresne (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

MedicDuFresne’s gift for galadrigal for the Genyatta Secret Santa. Human, College AU. Zenyatta finds a stressed-out Genji on the roof one early morning.

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/13150851)

 Back on Track by MedicDuFresne (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

MedicDuFresne’s gift to honeycola for the Genyatta Secret Santa. Not everyone sees eye-to-eye in the new Overwatch.

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/13150956)

 Shelter by Naopao (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Naopao’s gift for kesaheiina for the Genyatta Secret Santa. Genji’s recurring dreams are comforting in their familiarity, until they are comfortable in the unfamiliar.

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/13109142)

 A Winter’s Date Night by MedicDuFresne (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Human, College AU. It’s date night for Genji and Zenyatta.

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/12819828)

 Firsts by Starshifter (blueiaf) (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

The first meeting between Genji and Zenyatta happens when Genji’s running from the cops and accidentally enters someone’s home.

(https://archiveofourown.org/works/11974221)

 Mind, Body, and Soul by Grovey (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Genji and Zenyatta at the Shambali Monastery as Genji comes to terms with his own self (and feelings for Zenyatta, who’s dealing with his own issues).

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/10067147/chapters/22433117)

 kisses & rainfalls by crystalldragon (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Human, College AU that is all fluff. Genji and Zenyatta wait in the rain for Mondatta to pick the latter up after a trip to Japan.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/11581083)

 Isolation by fre (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Genji’s experience with death and how he associates himself haunts him. Zenyatta does his best to help.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/11836458)

 Where the Past and Future Meet by KNACC (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Genji and Zenyatta sort through an old storage locker that holds relics from Genji’s past. Part of the “Something About Us Verse” series.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/12058251)

 Deepest Sympathies by Beldam (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Reverse AU; Genji helps Zenyatta after the death of one of his brothers.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/11455731)

 Summer Start by Lacertae (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Genyatta Week Summer 2017

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/11317908)

 Oh the Time That Has Passed by MedicDuFrense (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Written for PutridVodka’s Hidden AU, combines canon with AU.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/112509390)

 Rhythmic by Lacertae (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Pre-ship dancing.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/11266248)

 A Purple Glow in the Dark by BenevolentErrancy (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Shit goes sideways as Genji and Zenyatta make their way to Gibraltar after the Recall. Bittersweet. Has a fight scene in it but not a graphic one.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/10913598)

 Folding Papers by Lacertae (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Starts out pre-relationship and ends with established Genyatta. Genji wants to give Zenyatta a gift since he’s been under the monk’s tutelage for a year now.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/10765821)

 Lend Me a Hand by Sp00kWorm (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Author might be Spookworm; it’s hard for me to tell. Anyway, fluffy as cotton candy marriage proposal.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/10738689)

 like sunlight dripping by SmugShimada (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Nomad Genji and Sunyatta Zenyatta. Fluffy drabble.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/10541169)

 a little world created by love by crystalldragon (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Non-binary Zenyatta and Genji take a vacation and discuss the possibility of children.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/10329641)

 Along the path Happiness Follows by Lacertae (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Friends to lovers. Honestly the summary is best. It’s a slightly longer read, but worth it.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/10038347)

 being more (than what i’ve been) by mywordsflyup (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

College Librarian AU.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/9777761)

 I Think, Therefore by Byacolate (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Bastion has some questions about love.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/9297197)

 Touch by Lacertae (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Genji is both touch starved and reluctant to initiate contact.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/9279623)

 The Greatest Life and Stickiest Leaves by Byacolate (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

I have to make honorable mention of one of my favorite tags: “Shimada Genji’s Affection Erection”. Anyway, fantasy/mythical creature AU with unresolved romantic tension and pining Genji.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/9272825)

 Cardamom and Pepper Kick by Byacolate (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Technically part of a series, but the first part is incomplete McHanzo and is unnecessary to read to enjoy this one. Anyway, supernatural AU featuring fluffy, domestic witches and oracles.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/9212012)

 The Mistletoe Started It by Mo-Mouse (abyssmalDeath) (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

In which Genji and Zenyatta kiss under mistletoe and proceed from there.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/9060754)

 A Letter to an Old Friend by greygerbil (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Genji struggles for words here, too. Luckily, Zenyatta knows how to help him.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/8950960)

 Tannenbaum by tenuous_pteradatyl (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Written for Genyatta Week 2016. Just holiday fluff.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/8814034)

 Follows Me Everyday by goonyte (Rated T; No Archive Warnings Apply)

Genyatta Week 2016

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/8796163)

 Preternatural by tenuous_pteradatyl (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

AU where Genji is a dragon and Zenyatta seeks to help those who need it.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/8793262)

 Trust by Unchained_Silver (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Genji eventually shows his trust to Zenyatta – by showing his face. Zenyatta has a crush.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/8758450)

 Take a Load Off by alohiel (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

The Overwatch team has a Thanksgiving feast. Featuring sweaters and Bohemian Rhapsody.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/8255999)

 parlez-vous francais? ;) by slxightofhand (Rated T; Chose Not to Use Warnings/None Apply)

Literally just kissing.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/8119057)

 A New Man by Sp00kworm (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Again, might be SpOOkworm (it’s hard for me to tell). Anyway, one shot about Zenyatta helping Genji in the very beginning. More about Zenyatta than Genyatta.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/8049931)

 Sugar Crystal Sisyphus by Byacolate (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Human AU where Genji works in an ice cream parlor and is a little in love with one of their regulars.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/7865452/chapters/17961538)

 curse.exe by Byacolate, mywordsflyup (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Frog Prince AU. Has a podfic by Arioch that’s about 55 minutes long. Podfic is the second link.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/7542721/chapters/17150755)

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/7812148)

 Touch Starved by chelseyelric (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Genji is touch starved, but is afraid to initiate it. Zenyatta has no such boundaries.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/7468689)

 Similar Pains by Corvidae_Corvus (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

First meeting between Genji and Zenyatta. Zenyatta heals Genji, but physical wounds are fleeting compared to those on souls.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/7383715)

 Floating by chelseyelric (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Genji got an upgrade and is now able to levitate like Zenyatta. Well, he would be if he stopped overthinking it. Zenyatta helps him with the happy thoughts part of the Peter Pan saying.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/7367965)

 A Chapel of Unreason by Byacolate (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Cuddles. Literally just cuddles. Established Genyatta.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/7287325)

 The Saltiest Sea Knows its Own Way to Me by Byacolate (Rated T; No Warnings Apply)

Just gentle fluff.

(http://archiveofourown.org/works/7270618)

#genyatta #fanfic #ficratedt #nowarningsapply #complete