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alexiela73 · 1 year

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hi!!! im sorry if this might be a little bit of an odd request, but i just wanted to ask for a few (romantic) relationship headcanons with Hanzo! but if his s/o is gender-neutral and has multiple mental illnesses (namely autism, schizophrenia, DID, and anxiety!) i just want to know how you'd think he'd treat them 🥹 whether it's from like... the crushing phase -> the actual relationship phase 👉👈 I've just been struggling with a lot irl esp with my mental illnesses and hanzo has been a huge comfort for me;;; thank you sm in advance and again I apologize if this is such a weird request >< please feel free to ignore this if it makes you uncomfy!!! pls have a wonderful day ahead ^_^ /gen !!

So this is actually the second time I am writing this. My computer fritzed out on me AS I WAS TRYING TO POST IT. I apologize, as I’ve had to cut it shorter, it was SO LONG THE FIRST TIME and I spent forever on it. I hope it was what you were looking for.

Hanzo

The two of you met through Genji, who you’d become friends with after you both met at a local animal shelter.

Your friendship accumulated over the course of two years, and it wasn’t until two years later that you met his brother Hanzo.

At first, Hanzo was a bit standoff-ish, which was fine with you. Being around him was a bit difficult at first- his impassive face made it hard to know what he was thinking or feeling, and he always seemed intimidating.

Genji though was determined for you two to get to know each other. He joked about Hanzo being incredibly socially awkward, and how he didn’t always seem to know how to fit in with this day and age.

You two actually started to open up a bit when you realized you had a few common interests, including urban myths and a select few video games. They were easy for you to talk about, flowing off your tongue excitedly as you spoke about your progress in Stardew Valley or how fun it had been playing Pokemon Legends of Arceus. Hanzo seemed to have no trouble following your line of thought, even as you cut from one game to the next.

The two of you gradually saw more and more of each other, till finally there was no need for Genji to be the middle man.

There were days he’d worry about your silence, and others where the two of you lose yourself to the simple pleasures of the world around you. Walks in the park, walking through the malls in the late evening when it was quietest.

He never seemed bothered when you said you needed a break, or that you were over stimulated. He was more then willing to find a quiet nook and either rub your back, get you a drink, or find something to help ease you out of the sensory overloads or anxiety attacks. He was good at keeping guard especially, and never rushed you and badgered you to calm down.

Although you knew it would eventually happen, he did finally ask about something Genji had mentioned to him-about you having autism.

He asked if it would be okay to talk about it, as he’d never spoken to someone with autism before. The fact that he was more curious then annoyed about it gave you hope.

While it made you a bit uncomfortable, you decided it was best to get it over with. You explained how you had been diagnosed from an early age and the impact it has had on your life growing up. How it affected your home, your friendships, your work and your passions.

It hasn't always been easy, you admitted. With all that came things like depression, anxiety- getting overstimulated easily sometimes or not being able to handle certain textures or sensory noises.

You explained it was different for everyone- the severity, the effects, the symptoms- the habits, the coping mechanisms, the limitations. You felt lucky, because there were so many things you could do that felt impossible for others.

Hanzo listened with such intensity, and you spoke openly for what felt like hours. He seemed to soak in all the words, absorbing it all and of course you told him he could always do more research.

"People with autism...can still have relationships though, right?" He asked, seeming a bit embarrassed. The question surprised you a bit. Hanzo was never one to ask such personal questions.

"Of course. It can be difficult sometimes...people sometimes assume that having autism means we're stupid or don't have the same kind of feelings or desires as other people. I know I want to date someday...I don't want to feel like I'm going to be alone forever for something I never asked for," you said, your voice quivering a bit. How often that thought consumed you...

"I see," Hanzo said awkwardly, before he looking down at you. "Then...would you consider possibly...erm. Would you consider going on a....date, with me," he managed to get out finally.

The question stunned you. "Date? Like, you want to go out with me? Romantically?" you asked.

Cheeks flushing faintly, he looked away and gave a hard nod. "Yes. Yes, I do," he says quietly.

You took a moment to think of what to say, what to feel. You wanted to run, to crawl into the ground and hide. You felt ecstatic and overjoyed and overwhelmed and scared.

"...Can I think about it?" you asked finally. "I really need time to process it...I need you to think about it too. I have a lot of good days but my bad days...Some days, it feels like I'm suffocating. Like if I move, I might shatter. Like the world is clawing me down below the waves. And other days, I really just need to be alone. Touch is....is a lot for me sometimes. I can't just stop being me-"

"Don't stop being you," Hanzo says quietly. "I don't want to change you. You're different, and not just because of the disorder. I like you, y/n. I....I like you a lot. I want to try. I want to learn how to support you and to comfort you, and to be there when you need me. I just...want to be present."

Admittedly, no one had ever asked to be present for you like that. Your mood changes, being overwhelmed, stepping back and even your sensory issues were challenging for most people.

"I...Are you sure? What if it...becomes too much for you," you asked meekly.

"Then we talk. I value our friendship, y/n. I feel though I'd be doing us both a disservice by not being honest with you on my attraction to you. We can take all the time you need, go at your pace...just...just take some time to think about it, okay?" he said.

When Hanzo went home that day, you really took the time to think about it. To think about him, and whether there was any attraction, emotionally or physically to him. Whether it was worth it...

It took a week of thought, and ever patiently did he wait. When you finally agreed to try, that day you felt aflutter with hope. With happiness.

And as promised, you both took the time to talk. To build slowly on the relationship, to earn the trust of each other. Hanzo never made you feel bad about your worst days, never made you feel different for the way you spoke or the struggles you'd sometimes face.

He was an amazing partner, just the kind you deserved.

The kind who loved you, all of you.

#hanzo #hanzo shimada #Hanzo Shimada x Reader #Hanzo Headcanon #Hanzo Shimada Headcanon #Hanzo x Autistic Reader #Overwatch x Reader #Overwatch #Overwatch Headcanon #ididmybest

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ashiversary · 5 years

Text

Our Golden Days (Chapter 1)

“This is your uncle’s ship?” Carl asked, frowning.

He was standing on the dock in Vermillion City next to his best friend in the world, who was being his typical annoying self and bouncing everywhere, trying to look at everything at once. He bounced back to Carl’s side, beaming proudly at the enormous, sleek white passenger liner that rocked lazily in the gentle waves.

“Yes! The S.S. Anne!” Spark said, raising his hands above his head to indicate the ship that loomed above them.

“…It’s not very nice, is it?” Carl asked, squinting at the ship to try and see it better through the glare of sunlight reflecting off white paint, but the expression probably added to the air of criticism.

“What?” Spark yelped. Indignant, he turned on Carl. “Uncle Surge’s ship is the best! You’ll see!”

At that moment, Surge tromped up behind them, their bags slung over his broad shoulders. “Nice of you boys to leave me with all the bags,” he grunted. He swung Spark’s bag off his shoulder and thumped it into the boy’s chest, knocking him back a few inches and making his nephew laugh.

He turned to Carl and the white-haired boy tensed automatically, expecting Surge to slam his bag into his chest like he had with Spark. Instead, Surge held it out by the strap. “And you. Arceus, this bag is heavy. What have you got in here, rocks?”

“Um, no,” Carl muttered. “I… may have overpacked. Slightly. Only slightly!” He snapped at Spark who had started snickering beside him. “It’s your fault I need two first aid kits anyway, you walking disaster!”

“Oookay, time for boarding,” Surge said, grabbing both boys by the shoulders and propelling them toward the ramp. This effectively cut off the fight that would have broken out between the two boys without his intervention.

Once they were onboard, Surge happily ditched the boys with the vague directive to “Explore! Have fun, kids!” before disappearing into a section of the ship that Spark and Carl weren’t allowed to enter, reasoning that there wasn’t much trouble they could get into with ocean on all sides.

Although Surge no longer sailed regularly on the S.S. Anne and hadn’t since he’d taken Spark in, he still brought Spark aboard often enough that his nephew was very proudly able to give Carl a tour. First, he showed Carl the room that they would be sharing on the voyage.

Carl frowned at it, unmoved by his friend’s pride. “It’s small.”

“It is not! Why ya gotta be such a downer, Carl?”

Still, Carl set his bag on the end of one of the two beds, claiming it for the trip. Spark would want the bed next to the window, and he could have it as far as Carl was concerned. There was nothing to see but the sky and water anyway, and that would get tedious after ten minutes.

“And this is the galley! That means kitchen, Carl.”

“…I know that, Spark. In fact, I’m pretty sure everyone alive knows that.”

Spark pouted at his friend as Carl turned away and paced down the hallway. Spark trotted to catch up and tapped the back of Carl’s hand, harder than he had probably intended, but Carl didn’t complain. “Hey, what gives? You in a bad mood or something?” Spark asked. The pout had vanished, and his big sky blue eyes were full of concern.

Before Carl could answer in the negative, Spark continued speaking. “You homesick? Wanna call your Nana?”

Carl’s assurances dissolved in a glare. “I’m not a baby, Spark,” he said, walking faster to try and leave his friend behind. Spark simply trotted faster and kept up easily, the athletic brat.

“’S nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone gets homesick.”

The total sincerity with which Spark delivered this statement only annoyed Carl further. Homesick! As if! “I just wasn’t expecting the ship you bragged about for months to be such a dump. My family has several ships, and all of them are better than this.”

“Well, it ain’t a luxury liner, Carl. Us normal folks gotta get around too-”

There was a sudden burst of loud static from the open doorway they were passing. Both boys jumped. Through the doorway the room was in shadows. The boys paused, glancing at each other like, should we go check it out?

Absolutely.

They poked their heads through the doorway into the small sitting room. It was old fashioned, though it was hard to put a finger on what gave that impression. Maybe it was the carved arms on the chairs or all the plush fabrics. Dated, Carl thought. That was the right term. Plus the floral wallpaper and the doilies gave it a feminine feel.

Against the far wall was a big screen TV. As they watched, another blast of static exploded from the speakers. Bright colours flashed across the screen, fading as the sound did. Carl thumped Spark on the shoulder.

“Quit it!”

“Ouch! Quit what?” Spark demanded, rubbing his shoulder and giving Carl a look of betrayal.

Carl gestured at the television. “That!” he snapped. Another burst of static punctuated the statement.

“I ain’t doing that, Carl. Just ‘cuz something electrical goes on the fritz doesn’t mean it’s me doing it.”

Carl gave his friend a hard look, trying to tell if Spark was telling the truth or if he was making the TV act weird to freak Carl out as revenge for criticizing Surge’s ship. But Spark’s eyes were blue and guileless, and anyway, he’d always been a terrible liar.

“Well, it’s creepy. Let’s get out of here,” Carl said, pulling out of the doorway. Spark followed. They made it three steps down the hall when the lights cut out.

Carl sucked in a sharp breath. “That ain’t me either!” Spark said defensively. Carl had grabbed his arm lightning-fast and was digging his nails into Spark’s flesh.

“Are. You. Sure?” Carl ground out, because it wouldn’t be the first time Zapdos had taken over and decided to play a prank on a silly mortal. And Carl, being Spark’s best friend, was most often around for that.

Spark opened his mouth to retort, and the hair on the back of Carl’s neck prickled. He whirled, and found himself slammed against the wall with Spark’s back pressed against his chest. Spark’s posture was stiff. Electric currents danced between his spread fingers, and the telltale scent of ozone confirmed that Spark wasn’t the one in control.

Just as quickly, the sparks faded and the blond relaxed back into himself. Carl waited until Spark had taken a step away, then asked “What was that about?”

Spark shrugged. “Felt a spooky thing.”

“A spooky thing?” Carl thought about the ominous feeling that had accompanied the neck prickle. Huh. “You know what? Let’s go back on the deck.”

He grabbed Spark’s hand to drag him above deck, when he felt it again. The neck prickle. The ominous feeling. And this time, the faint brush of wind. A sinister chuckle.

Dropping Spark’s hand, he spun back around again in time to see a dark shadow shoot between two open doorways. Doors that he had not heard open, and that had not been open when he turned away.

“This is creepy,” Spark whispered, and Carl shushed him. A grin materialized in front of them as a darker shadow approached out of the blackness. No, make that several shadows.

“Ghost Pokemon,” he muttered to Spark out of the side of his mouth. He felt more than saw the blond nod.

They turned as one to move away from the shifting mass of ghost Pokemon, but there were more behind them.

Carl’s hand slipped inside his bag, finding a pokeball and gripping it tightly. He only had Bob and James with him. The psychic type Pokemon would be no match for the ghost types that had them surrounded.

There was a sound like a manic giggle, then something orange and shimmering with blue sparks zipped out of the room with the TV and down the hall. The ghost pokemon turned to look, and Spark’s hand clamped around Carl’s wrist.

“Now,” he breathed, and with no more warning than that he leaped forward and ran through the cloud of ghost pokemon, dragging Carl behind them.

Carl let out an involuntary yell as he was hauled forward and his eyes flinched closed as a Gengar loomed ahead of him. He passed underneath it and Spark dove into a room, slamming the door behind them. Carl braced his hands on his knees, panting, irked that Spark didn’t even seem winded.

“That won’t stop them, you know,” Carl said, some of his annoyance showing in his tone as Spark locked the door.

“Lemme think, Carl,” Spark said. He turned and leaned back against the door, frowning. The room was dark, so Carl looked around until he found the light switch. Flipping it on revealed that they had taken refuge in a laundry room.

A mechanical hum made both boys look up in surprise as one of the washing machines powered on, running briskly despite the fact that there were no clothes inside it and nobody had turned it on. Spark and Carl stared at it, and Spark shuffled closer to Carl.

“That’s creepy,” he murmured to Carl, who nodded.

The washing machine whined in insult, and the door flew open loosing a torrent of water at the boys. Spark was athletic enough to be able to dodge, but he was so shocked at being attacked by a washing machine that he didn’t think to move until he got smacked in the face by the stream.

Gasping and choking, the boys rolled in opposite directions to get out of the line of fire. The washing machine giggled, and the orange sparky thing leaped from the washing machine and into the ceiling fan. The motor whirred, and the fan blades began to turn. Soon the blades were turning so fast and with such force that both boys were pinned to the floor by the gale.

“It’s a pokemon,” Carl managed to gasp out, even as the wind tore his breath away. “It has to be.”

Somehow, Spark stood upright despite the force of the wind. Carl shivered - he knew the look in Spark’s eyes. Apparently the Pokemon in the ceiling fan did too, because as Spark lifted hands full of lightning, an orange blob dropped out of the ceiling fan to cower on the floor.

The winds stopped, and Carl could breathe again. He sat up, pushing his disordered hair out of his face, as Spark faced the orange pokemon.

“Play time’s over,” Spark said in a voice that wasn’t boyish enough to be Spark’s. “You will leave in peace, or you will leave in pieces. Begone.”

Humming with fright, the orange pokemon darted into the circuitry. The wires buzzed as the pokemon moved along them and faded as the pokemon left the room.

“What was that?” Carl asked. He clambered to his feet and frowned down at his white shorts, which had gotten scuffed when he rolled around on the floor.

“Rotom. It’s playful and generally harmless, but rather annoying,” Zapdos replied using Spark’s mouth. Then it was gone, and Spark was back. He glanced over his shoulder and his eyes widened. “Woah.”

Carl turned. At least a dozen ghost pokemon had poked their faces through the wall and were staring at Spark with a mix of awe and fear. A Haunter even fled back through the wall when Spark approached the door.

“I wonder where all these guys came from,” Spark commented.

“You mean your uncle’s ship isn’t supposed to be haunted?”

“Of course not!” The ghost pokemon moved to either side as Spark and Carl moved down the hall. “I dunno where they came from, Carl, but they’re not supposed to be here.”

“Hey! Where’d you kids get off to?”

Spark’s face broke into a grin. “Back here, Uncle Surge!” he called, waving an arm, which was pointless because Lt. Surge wasn’t anywhere in sight.

Lt. Surge’s boots could be heard clomping down the stairs, and he appeared at the end of the hall. He stopped dead when he saw the pokemon - a mix of Haunter and Gengar, a handful of Ghastly, a single Shuppet - and frowned. “ARNOLD!” he bellowed, making both boys jump. “Arnold, get yer ass out here!”

A door near the boys opened, and a pale teen slunk out. He had a sullen expression and limp black hair that drooped into his eyes. “It’s not Arnold, Sir. It’s Xavier now. It’s cooler,” the teen said in a tone that matched his expression.

“Whatever. I thought I told ya to keep ‘em in their pokeballs!” Surge gestured at the pokemon. “Not let them run rampant around my ship! Put ‘em away.”

Xavier sniffed. “They wanted to explore. There’s hardly anyone here anyway, and they lend atmosphere.”

“Yeah, well, play vampire on your own property. Put ‘em away, or you can swim back to shore.”

Still pouting, the teen secured the Pokemon in a small pile of pokeballs before slinking back into his room. The door clicked quietly closed behind him.

With that problem taken care of, Lt. Surge studied his nephew and Carl. It may be the man’s military training, but Carl suddenly, inexplicably, felt like he had done something wrong. Then Surge grinned, and the feeling faded. “Sorry about that, boys. Xavier’s an odd one. I shoulda warned you about him. How about you two go get changed for dinner. You look like you’ve been rolling around on the floor.”

Fresh from a shower, Spark flopped on the bed next to Carl, making him bounce. Carl muttered a protest, and was blinded by a flash of light that made him blink and swear. The first thing he saw when his vision cleared was Spark’s very white teeth bared in a grin. And a camera lens, shoved right in his face.

“What are you doing?” he grumbled, but shifted over so that he was no longer half-pinned under Spark.

Like an excited pokemon, Spark wiggled into a comfortable position next to him and held the camera up at face level. “Smile, Carl!” he said as the flash went off again. “This’ll be a great memory!”

And it was. And like most of Carl’s happy childhood memories, it eventually got stuck in an album and shoved in a bottom drawer where he didn’t have to look at it. Somehow, it was the happiest memories that brought the most pain.

#Pokemon Go #Ashiversary #chiiwifruit #submission #Carl #Spark #Surge

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