#gabrielxangela

[thisisthe-way]

Mercykill Week — Day 5

OF MERCY AND DEATH - Too Spicy

“Welcome home,” Angela called to her husband from the kitchen area as he came through the door of their small apartment-like room on the Watchpoint.

Gabriel could smell something cooking and he grinned widely, pulling his coat and beanie off and hanging them up. “Mm, something smells good.”

Angela bounced out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “I decided to cook for you.”

Gabriel’s eyebrow immediately shot up. “You barely sleep at night for claims that you’re too busy to function but you found time to cook for me?”

“Well, we’ve been married for close to a month now and I wanted to do something special for you,” she said, and then took his hands and led him into the kitchen, seating him at the kitchen table as she stirred the pot on the stove and agitated something in the pan with a spatula.

Gabriel watched her, a smirk pulling at the sides of his lips as he drank in her the back of he, admiring her slim shoulders and ample hips and bottom. He stood and pressed himself up against her back, hands on her shoulders, and began to kiss her throat and ear. “You look damn good, cooking for me. Not sure if I’m hungry for dinner anymore.”

Angela laughed and elbowed him lightly, her elbow colliding with the hard muscle of his abs under his sweater. “You’re such a man. I can’t—“

He noticed what she was cooking. “Chilaquiles? Oh, we have time.” He scooped her up against her loud protests, flipped the heat onto low and carried her off into their bedroom.

~~

“Oh good, it isn’t burned,” Angela said when she returned to the kitchen, wearing only her robe now, her short bob hanging around her face.

Gabriel emerged from the room in a pair of sweats, shirtless in all his caramel skinned glory, and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “You know, chilaquiles is one of my favorites. You call my sister?”

“Yes.”

“And...she didn’t bother telling you it’s usually a breakfast dish?”

Angela sighed. “I knew the fact that it asked for eggs was suspect.”

Gabriel chuckled. “Pobrecita.” He took a swig ofbhis beer. He sat back down at the table and watched his wife with admiration as she finished their dinner in only a robe, before putting a plate of it in front of him. He grinned. “Ah well, who am I to say no to breakfast for dinner?”

Angela stood, nervously watching as he took his first bite. At first, his face lit up at the delicious flavor and Angela began to soothe, but then he started to cough and heave as he took a long swig of his beer.

“Angie,” he choked, “babe, how many of the red chilis did you use in the sauce?”

“All of them...?”

“Didn’t you use a recipe?” He coughed as he stood up and got a glass of water from the sink, his beer now gone.

“Just the one your sister gave me,” Angela replied, blushing sheepishly, clearly not used to making Mexican food—or cooking at all. “Is it too spicy?”

Gabriel chuckled around his red face and dry throat as he nodded and chugged his water. “Yeah, but that’s not your fault, baby. Lupe knows I can’t handle spicy food. Even this far away, she still manages to find a way to mess with me.”

But Angela didn’t see the humor. Her special surprise was ruined now, and as he turned to look at her, he could see that it upset her that it was. Finishing his water, he approached her and touched her shoulders with his large hands, smiling.

“Thanks for dinner, Ange. Tell you what—why don’t we order takeout, go back to the bedroom and watch that stupid Disney movie you like so much, and maybe...wear in our bed a couple times more, hm?” He grinned widely.

Angela shrugged, but softened when she felt his large arms around her. She smiled against his chest, inhaled his scent, and nodded. “Next time, I promise I won’t ask your sister for help.”

Gabriel pursed his lips nervously and chuckled a little as he led her into their room. “Uhh, babe, how about you just let me do the cooking from now on?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Well...okay!”

#mercykill #mercykillweek2017 #mercykillweek #mercyxreaper #gabrielxangela #Angela Ziegler #Gabriel Reyes #reaper #mercy #Overwatch #Overwatch FanFiction #Overwatch fsnfic #FanFiction #writing #my writing #ships #shipping #day 5 #spicy

[thisisthe-way]

Of Mercy and Death - Mask

She picked up the mask that sat on the bedside table with a sad sort of curiosity. Her fingers roved over the smooth eggshell color of it, reading the menacing skull shape.

When he entered the small motel room from the connected bathroom, she looked up at him, placing the mask down. “Gabe...”

Gabriel Reyes looked at his wife, placing the towel down that he has been using to dry his face and shaved head. “I already told you no.” His skin was washed out, a strange white-gray and his brown eyes were a bright, menacing red. He was himself but not.

“They’ll understand if I explain it to them,” she replied, standing, a sheet around her naked form.

“They weren’t very welcoming on King’s Row,” he replied, shaking his head as he pulled his discarded pants on. “I appreciate your faith in me, Angela, but Overwatch is dead. And so am I.”

“Not to me,” she whispered, approaching him. “Gabriel...”

“Enough,” he snapped, looking at her. “I need to get back to Talon before they come looking and find you.”

Angela sighed, brushing a hand through her short yellow locks. “You can’t go back; they know you helped us stop that bomb in King’s Row. They’ll kill you—you’re not indestructible.”

“Moira won’t let them. I’m her great success,” he grumbled, pulling a T-shirt on. He heard Angela scoff behind him, and he glanced at her.

“Was it worth it, Gabriel? Was letting her corrupt you just so you could be better than Jack worth our marriage and your life?” Angela spat.

Gabe laughed, humorlessly, shaking his head. “That’s what you think? So, all these years, you’ve thought the worst of me? Not Jack? Come on, Angela, I thought you were smart. When did I ever make it seem like I wanted Jack’s role in this? Hell, no. That’s not what this was for.”

He held up his hand, the fingers smoking and phasing. “Jack came at me, Angela. Pissed about the political position Blackwatch had put him in. Maybe that’s my fault but I didn’t start that fight and I sure as hell didn’t let Moira fuck with my body for him or because of him.”

“Then, why?!” Angela snapped. “I warned you about that woman and you—“

“There’s one person in this world I would destroy myself for, doc,” Gabriel interrupted, his eyes earnest as he looked down at her. “Guess who that is.”

The young doctor’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “I never asked you to—“

“I know. I did it to protect you. You were always terrified I’d come home wrecked, or not come home at all,” Gabriel murmured, his voice gentler now. “She promised she could alleviate that—make me better, stronger, stealthier and harder to kill. It screwed with my head, Ange. For you, I would’ve walked away from that fight with Jack but I wasn’t...right.”

He scoffed at himself and shook his head. “It’s not an excuse, just—“

Before he could finish, her hands were on his face and her lips on his lips, and she was kissing him deeply, urgently, as she pulled him back toward he bed. They tumbled backward onto the mattress, and the conversation was ended abruptly by something far more pleasant.

//////

A few hours later, he picked up the mask from the bedside table, his fingers running over the eggshell colored surface in a sort of eerie mirror of her actions earlier. Then, he looked at his sleeping wife, sighing, before he kissed her head and secured the mask.

“I won’t abandon you again, Angie,” he whispered as a promise to trump the one Moira has made to him—before he left, determined to find a way back to his merciful angel, permanently.

#mercyxreaper #mercykill #mercy #reaper #angelaxgabriel #gabrielxangela #gabriel reyes #angela ziegler #overwatch fandom #overwatch #fanfiction #overwatch fanfiction #writings #my writings #video games #blizzard

[thisisthe-way]

MercyKill Week - Day 1

OF MERCY AND DEATH. - When Mercy meets Reaper.

It was that time of year again.

She never actively tried to think about it, remember it. But she always did. She could still smell the smoke and dirt that wafted off of the rubble. She could still feel the smudges of debris and dust on her face as she dug through it.

They never found Jack’s body, but he got a gravestone.

They found Gabriel’s, though. Half alive, barely breathing, broken beyond belief.

She found Gabriel’s. She was looking for it. For him. She could barely remember screaming for him. She knew she has been but the sound of destruction and possible death was deafening.

She tried to fix him. She tried.

She knew what sort of chemicals had enhanced him. Kept him from aging as fast, sped up the healing process in his body, enhanced his strength. She knew him. Intimately.

How else does a woman know her husband, after all?

Fear and anxiety, rage, pain, andrenaline all rushed through her as she altered the biological and chemical makeup the serum that had created him—enhanced it—and pumped it straight into his body, hoping to enhance his healing functions.

She’ll never forget his screams as his body morphed and changed, his skin grew pale, dead looking, and then, as if in her worst nightmare, he seemed to just...evaporate in a cloud of black smoke. Gone. Dead.

Jack had a tombstone. She’d had to fight to get Gabriel one.

And now, the anniversary of his death—of her biggest personal and professional mistake—was upon her.

She hated remembering. She hated that, no matter where she was in the world, she visited that gravestone every year.

And every year: “I’m so sorry.” As she laid flowers on his grave. Her wedding ring hung around her neck now, tucked away.

This year was no different. She entered the graveyard, a small one, very remote, in the Los Angeles foothills. No one but she and a few others knew where she had put the empty grave. She carried white roses, and her ring was dangling in the open tonight as she fixed her scarf and knelt in front of the stone.

Tears filled her eyes as she touched the name on the writing. A moment of weakness few else ever saw anymore, if at all. “I’m so sorry. I never meant this for you.”

It was silent for a moment, and then she felt the air grow colder and she looked up. Familiar dark smoke appeared in front of her and then a creature in black with an ominous skull mask stood behind the grave, a large shotgun pointed at her where she knelt.

She didn’t know how, but she could tell how focused the monster was on her, and her eyes widened. This was him; the Reaper who had been hunting them down.

“So, you’ve come for me, then...” This was the first time she’d ever seen him. She had half a mind to reach for her pistol, tucked away in a holster under her coat. But then she looked at Gabriel’s name again and bowed her head. “Go on, then.”

“Just now. What did you say to him?”

When she lifted her head again, his masked face was in her bubble, and she jerked away a little, brows furrowing. “I...I said I never meant this for him.”

There was a dark, growling chuckle, and he lifted the ring around her neck with the end of his gun, examining it. He chuckled again and stood, his voice dropping low and menacing. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

Her head whipped up again to look at him, and she noticed the gleam of something falling out from beneath his robes, hanging around his neck. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Gabriel?”

She jumped up, lunged to touch him, catch him, even remove the mask, but like before, like the worst day of her life, and in a poor of black smoke, he was gone.

“So, you’re not going to kill me then?!” She cried up to the emptiness. “I deserve it! What have I done to you?! Gabriel...Reaper...whoever you are! What have I...”

She looked down at the gravestone. “What have I done?” She touched the writing and began to cry, softly. “I’m so sorry...”

After a moment, she felt arms around her from behind, and the strange sensation of lips on her cheek, the skin rough, scarred, thin like decay, but so familiar. Then, it was gone. And Angela Ziegler stood, looking up at the sky again, eyes still wet but her face firm and full of strength. “I love you. And if it takes the rest of my life, I’ll fix this.” And with that, she placed the roses down and left, to return to her work, to her missions and with a new sense of strength and purpose.

And in the distance, under the shadow of a mausoleum, Death watched her leave, mask in hand, and whatever was left of his heart racing with memories, pain and anger, and the traces of long buried love.

#mercykill #mercykillweek #mercykill week #mercy #reaper #Angela Ziegler #Gabriel Reyes #Overwatch #ships #shipping #het ships #mercykillweek2017 #mercyxreaper #reapcy #gabrielxangela #reyesxziegler

[thisisthe-way]

Mercykill Week - Day 7

OF MERCY AND DEATH - Afterglow

There were no moments he appreciated more than the ones in the silence and warmth of his wife’s arms, in bed, after making love.

He was usually a broad, caramel canvas in which her small, pale painted form rested, and she would draw circles against the landscape of his chest and talk about work, or meetings, or sometimes she would nod off to sleep immediately, because she didn’t sleep enough as it was.

And sometimes, they would just lie in silence, awake, listening to the other’s breathing or heartbeat, drinking in the moment like it was the last.

Angela was tracing each of the scars on his chest that night, trying to memorize them all, calculatingly. “Someday, I will make such leaps and strides in the medical field and healing technologies, you’ll never bare another scar.”

Gabriel chuckled and traced his hands up and down her back. “I thought you liked the scars? You told me they were sexy.”

“They mean I’m not doing my job—they mean you’re getting hurt and everytime you come home with a new one, it was one step closer to my losing you.”

Gabriel frowned deeply, and pulled her closer, letting her small form spread out atop his larger one a little bit. “Stop thinking like that, Angie. I always come home to you, don’t I?”

“I wish Jack would let me go out with you on your assignments. I could keep you healed in real time instead of having to fix you later.” She laid her cheek against his pectoral and sighed. “It’s stressful to be a doctor and a wife at the same time, to the same person.”

Gabe’s hand went to her short blonde hair and slid into the tendrils gently, massaging the scalp. “You do a damn good job at it, though. Especially the wife part.” He grinned a little, trying to cheer her up.

“It’s not funny, Gabriel!” She cried, suddenly and sat up. She felt two broad arms slide around her after a moment, and squeeze, and two loving lips brush her shoulder.

“I know, babe. I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Maybe someday, you won’t have to worry about me getting hurt so much.”

She looked st him earnestly. “We could retire soon, from all of this. The attacks are lessening. We could get a real house, with a yard. We could have animals and...children, maybe?”

Gabe’s brows furrowed a little. He was a soldier. It’s all he’d really ever known. He’d never had a father, so he never much thought about being one himself. But damn, if he didn’t love Angela Ziegler like she was oxygen and he was suffocating. Still...

He offered her a small, half-smile, and whispers, “Something like that, Ange. When it’s over. When it’s all over. We gotta keep fighting ‘til then.”

Angela’s shoulders slumped a little, but she smiled back, even if it didn’t quite reach her eyes. It was what she love most about him—his fighting spirit. His protective nature. His willingness to sacrifice himself to make their world just a little safer. He did it in his way; she did it in hers.

Settling back against him, she closed her eyes. “Promise?”

Gabriel slid his arms around her, and glanced at the ceiling for a moment, before pressing a kiss into her hair. “Promise.”

~~

“Are you ready?” came the voice from the doorway, the Irish lilt unmistakable. Gabriel could just make out the silhouette and shock of red hair on the woman as he finished dressing and glanced at his sleeping wife, uncertain.

The woman stepped out of the shadow and smirked despite the ice in her gaze as she watched the sleeping doctor, overstepping her boundaries by even being in their home. She touched Gabriel’s shoulder. “It’s best not to tell her. But just think of it...how much safer you’ll come home to her when we’re done. Able to move faster, to dodge enemy fire. How happy she’ll be to see it—her beloved husband, home from battles, in one piece.”

In one piece...

Gabriel glanced at Angela one last time—and then nodded at Moira O’Deorain firmly. “Let’s go.”

Moira smirked again and followed him out, and in the months and years to come, when Angela would be beating herself up for the cloud of smoke she believed to be her doing, and his undoing, and in his anger at her for what she’d let him become, they would both forget, and wish to remember, one of their last moments of afterglow.

#mercykill #mercykillweek #mercykillweek2017 #angela ziegler #gabriel reyes #reaperxmercy #reapcy #angelaxgabriel #gabrielxangela #overwatch #overwatch fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #my writing #fandom #ships #shipping #yes i used the new hero #i had an idea and ran with it #afterglow #day 7

[thisisthe-way]

Sidesteps of Mercy and Death - Healer.

Angela could feel her Caduceus blaster rattle under her shaking hand as she held it inches from the slim, sunken face of the woman before her.

She could feel Moira’s smirk more than she could see it, and it caused her blood to boil. She slid her finger over the trigger, her blue eyes narrowing.

“You won’t shoot me, Angela,” the woman replied, hands on her hips. “You value human life too much. Even mine.”

Angela could feel hot tears rolling down her face. Two days prior she had been visiting her husband’s grave and she had been visited herself by a specter—a ghost of someone she had loved above all else. A ghost that radiates black smoke very similar to that of Moira O’Deorain’s research.

“What did you do to him?” Angela barked, pressing the gun closer to her face. It had been no small feat to break into her lab in Oasis, but for Gabriel, it was worth the risk and hardship. “What did you do to Gabriel?”

Moira scoffed and turned away from the gun, trailing back to her desk and opening a folder full of notes, reading them casually as if someone wasn’t threatening her life. “I made him better. I didn’t shy away from scientific breakthrough because of some superficial moral code. I healed him, if you will. Permanently. If anything, I made your job easier.”

She chuckled, and then laughed harder when a blast near her feet caused her to jump. “Are you trying to frighten me, Angela? Come now.”

“Why...hasn’t he come home?” Angela growled. “That’s not my husband. It can’t be—he wouldn’t be trying to kill his friends. He wouldnt abandon me.”

“Oh, that? Mm, pesky side effect I’m afraid. His transformation might’ve...” Moira chuckled against her spidery fingers. “...altered the chemical makeup of his mind. Slightly. But what can we do except accept the consequences of great scientific discovery? We do not grow without sacrifice.”

There was another blast, much closer to her head now, so much so that it grazed her cheek, and Moira was serious now, glaring at the blond woman.

“Make sacrifices with your own life and loved ones. Not mine.”

Moira chuckled, this time bitterly, her eyes cold. “You deserved to be knocked down a peg or two. Child prodigy, medical doctoral at the age of fifteen, hired into Overwatch at seventeen because of medical and battlefield healer advancements made, married by twenty to one of the commanders of Overwatch; you has everything, didn’t you? Everything to make political, professional and personal life a success. And my work was mocked and scorned because I was willing to take risks.” Moira’s eyes lit up maliciously. “Gabriel was the perfect candidate. And he approached me—I saw an opportunity for scientific growth as well as to destroy your perfect world, Dr. Ziegler. How could I refuse?”

She moved back to the desk, her back to Angela. “Now...as I said before, you won’t kill me. But...” she spun quickly, gleaming, metal wristbands now clamped onto her arms, and a purple stream or damage began to stream out of one and into Angela’s body. “I am more than happy to kill you!”

Angela gasped as she fell to her knees, blaster at her feet. She tried to reach for the dial to turn up the power on her Valkyrie suit, but Moira was sapping her too quickly.

“Surrender to my will,” Moira boomed, laughing menacingly.

There was a sudden crash of the windows around her, blasted out by shotgun bullets, which caused Moira to break the connection, and then a portal of black smoke appeared in front of Angela. The Reaper stood before her, and began to fire on the Talon healer, scooping the weakened doctor up into one clawed hand, the other still firing on Moira as he carried Angela out, and phased them both onto the roof of a far building.

He set the woman down gently, and took a knee, resting one of his shotguns on his shoulder as he watched her through the mask.

Angela sighed, relief filling her as the Valkyrie suit began to do its job and heal her. She looked up at her savior. “Gabriel.” She didn’t say it as a question now, as she had in the graveyard. She knew. How could she not?

The mask was removed from his face, and red eyes gleamed down at her. Confused, but gentle. “Ange.”

Angela was so shocked by the moment, she could do nothing but laugh at the sound of her nickname spoken in such a gruff, gravely voice. “It is you. I don’t—“

“I came to the graveyard to kill you,” he admitted, “but when I saw you, I was...me again. I can’t—“

Angela touched his clawed hand, shaking her head. “All that matters is you’re you.”

Gabriel sighed. “Why did you come here alone? Moira is formidable.”

“Because when I saw you in the graveyard, I wasn’t me. I was full of rage at that vindictive bitch and I wanted her dead. She took everything from me. From us,” Angela replied. “But maybe now...we can get it back?”

“Angela, I don’t think—“

Her cell phone rang. She connected it to her ear comm and answered. “Ziegler. What? A bomb? King’s Row...got it. Four hours, tops. Right. See you soon.” She hung up, and stood. “I have to go. Talon is—“

“I know,” Gabriel said, standing as well. “You’re not going alone, I hope.”

“We have a team,” she said, turning to leave, and then paused, looking at him with a slightly hopeful smile. “But we could use one more.”

He never could say no to her.

#mercykill #mercy #reaper #gabriel reyes #angela ziegler #gabrielxangela #angelaxgabriel #reapcy #overwatch #overwatch fandom #overwatch fanfiction #fanfiction #ships #writings #my writings #moira odeorain #support heroes #healers

[thisisthe-way]

Mercykill week - Day 4

(Sorry I missed day 3! Halloween and all...:3)

OF MERCY AND DEATH - Purity before the Fall

Angela had always liked Disney movies. He could never understand why. He grew up hard in the ghettos of Los Angeles, seeing what real life was. Watching homeless men and women on Skid Row beg for food and money. Watching men and women he admired her shot down on Martin Luther King Boulevard. Watching his own mother slowly die from having to work three jobs to have even an ounce of what she needed to raise him and his sister.

He didn’t believe in or care for fairytales. But damn, if he didn’t fall in that fairytale sort of love with Angela Ziegler. The kind of love that made a 36 year old military man sit down with his girlfriend and watch those stupid fairytales because she loved them so much.

And her favorite? Beauty and the Beast. From his perspective, he couldn’t really understand why, but when he asked her why she adored it so much, it was simple and clear: a story about a young, determined, passionate woman who values intelligence above all else and never gives up on her aspirations.

Every time they watched the movie after that, he could see his Angie in Belle. Her fire, her passion, her love. He never really related himself to the Beast though. He was the goofball, the soldier, the Blackwatch commander only when he needed to be. He wasn’t some hulking man, barking orders, scaring others. He wasn’t a monster.

“No,” she would agree, “but you had a hard upbringing, you’re not exactly soft and I still managed to convince you to watch Disney movies with me every weekend.”

Gabriel could only smile. She was so innocent back then, despite her fierceness of character. Perhaps, they both were, and all he could do was slide an arm around her shoulders and hum ‘Something There’ was she sang along—he’d seen it enough times, after all. And he would watch it as many times more as she desired.

And in the dark future days, when his body was cursed with the monstrous decay and heaviness of his burdened soul, after he had worked through years of hideous anger at what she’d turned him into, what he had become, he’d remember how much Belle loved the Beast despite his transgressions and appearance, and he began to understand a little deeper why Angela liked it so much, and was silently grateful that she did relate to Belle, should they ever meet again.

#mercykill #mercykillweek2017 #mercykillweek #mercyxreaper #angela ziegler #gabriel reyes #gabrielxangela #reaper #mercy #Overwatch #overwatch fanfic #overwatch fanfiction #purity #day 4 #Disney #beauty and the beast #my writing #my FanFiction #FanFiction #fandom #ship #shipping

[thisisthe-way]

Of Mercy and Death - Fee

He hasn’t met her yet. She had been their doctor for close to seven months now, but with one or the other always being on a mission, he hadn’t met her.

The new doctor—Angela Ziegler.

He was careful, that was. Unconventional in his execution of his orders, for sure, but always careful. He didn’t like doctors—anyone who believed they were better than someone else just because of their education. Growing up as he had, he knew not everyone had the opportunities for such an education, but that didn’t make them worthless, unintelligent or useless. So, he was always careful.

So, surely, it was an irritation to him when he returned from his most recent mission with a sprained wrist, caused by his own clumsiness and not anything to do with his mission.

“I don’t need to see her, Jack,” Gabriel said. “Why the hell would I let some know-it-all kid play doctor on me? I’ll heal just fine.”

“Oh, really?” Jack said, and glanced at Ana who was leaning in the hallway wall, her arms crossed over her chest. She pushed herself up and approached Gabriel, and took his arm. She barely bent his wrist, and the Hispanic man yelled and yanked his arm away.

“Mm, yeah, you seem fine,” Ana deadpanned with a small smirk. “She’s very sweet, Gabriel. And good at her job. Just go.”

Gabriel sighed, scratching at his goatee thoughtfully wth his good hand, and then nodded. “Fine. Fine.”

He turned and made his way toward he medical wing of the base. He pulled his hood up over his head, feeling a little foolish for having gotten hurt in such a ridiculous way, and having this be the first time he’d officially meet the new doctor.

The door was open and he knocked on the frame with his good hand before stepping inside. “Hello?”

A young woman, barely eighteen at this point, draped in a lab coat and wearing a pair of black slacks and a blue blouse, turned to see her newest patient. Her blue eyes widened a little to see him—both in surprise that he was theee considering how stubborn the rest had said she was, and also surprised to see him up close for the first time.

Despite her intellect and years of schooling, only three words could describe what she thought when she first saw him: He was hot.

“Mr. Reyes, isn’t it?” She said, pushing a fallen piece of her tied back blonde hair behind her hair.

“Uh Huh,” He said, trying to deny that he thought she was beautiful, too. She was a kid—medical prodigy or not. “Nice to meet you, doc.”

“Ziegler. Angela Ziegler,” she replied, and approached him. Her eyes searched his body, despite how much he had tried to cover up, and smiled a little as she lifted his wrist. “Minor sprain to right wrist. Is this your dominant hand, Mr. Reyes?”

He gave a short nod, clearing his throat at her suddenly standing so near to him. He scratched his cheek and murmured, “You can call me Gabriel.”

Angela turned her eyes upward and smiled a little. “Gabriel, then. Come, sit on that table over there and I’ll wrap it. What’s your pain level?”

“Minimal,” He said, hopping up on the metal table easily, the muscles in his thighs moving a little under his pants. Angela paused, blushing, and coughed, clearing her mind as she picked up a clipboard and started to scribble. After clearing her head, she picked up his wrist again and bent it, causing him to yell.

“Minimal?” She repeated with a small smirk and wrote something on her clipboard. “And how did this happen?” She placed the clipboard down and started to dig through a cabinet for pain reducing topical creams and athletic wrap.

“Um, I was on a mission,” he said. “Intel gathering.”

“Was it twisted by a hostile?” She asked, placing the items down on a table next to where she stood in front of him, picking her clipboard back up.

“Not...exactly.”

Angela tilted her head, curiously.

Gabriel stared at her, eyes hard for a moment, but when she simply smiled at him and refused to break her gaze, he scoffed and looked away. “I dropped one of my guns and...tripped over it getting on board my extraction ship. I caught myself before I landed, but only with one hand—felt it hyperextend.”

Angela giggled, her eyes widening in amusement. “Truly?”

“You’re seriously going to laugh at an injured man?” He asked, and his eyes widened when she started to laugh harder. He blinked when he realized how ridiculous he has suddenly sounded, and his face softened and he started to laugh a little. “Okay, that sounded pathetic.”

“It did, but it was cute,” she said, and then realized what she had actually said and pressed small fingers to her mouth. “I mean...”

Gabriel smirked a little. “Cute? I’ve been called a lot of things, but that has to be a first. I think that word fits you better, doc.”

Angela’s blue eyes grew large and a pink blush painted her pale cheeks. She giggled a little sheepishly and scribbled the last of her notes down, placing the clipboard down. Carefully, she lifted his arm and began to massage some of the ointments into the skin. “So, Gabriel...I’ve been here for a few months now...why are you just now introducing yourself to me?”

“I’m not much for educated people,” he replied.

“You were brought up in Los Angeles,” she said, glancing up into his eyes as she began to wrap the injured wrist. “I suppose that infers your upbringing was without many opportunities?”

“Ding ding,” he joked, and shrugged. “It didn’t help I was a troublemaker as a kid. After my mom got sick, I joined the military—I wanted to get right by her before she passed.” His face fell, and he seemed distant for a moment, and then he gave a short, humorless laugh. “Not sure why I’m telling you all this.”

Angela finished wrapping the wrist and went back into her cabinets to look for a brace. With her back to him, she began to speak. “I was born in Switzerland at the height of the war. My parents always knew I was...gifted. Walked early, talked early—excelled at math and science even in my infancy. I was...away at medical school, when their city was attacked. I was...thirteen.”

She closed the cabinet, brace in hand, and turned back toward him. She smiled a little, but her eyes were wet. “They didn’t make it.”

“Sorry,” Gabriel said, as she slid the brace onto his wrist and secured the Velcro. He inspected it, rolled his shoulder and nodded. “Thanks.”

“It should heal within the week. Just try not to move the wrist too much,” Angela said, gently, and then grinned a little. “I’ll send you my fee.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened and then he chuckled when he saw her grinning playfully. “Can I pay you in a cup of coffee?”

Angela’s eyes widened and she placed her hands on her hips. “Aren’t I a little young for you?”

“You’re the one who called me cute, doc.”

Angela laughed. “So I did. I tell you what...this one is on the house but...if you end up in here again, I think we can work something out.” Her eyes danced flirtatiously.

Gabriel stood up and nodded, smirking over his shoulder at him. “Shame I’m so careful on my missions, then. Still...a girl like you could make a man reckless.”

“And to think you were avoiding coming to meet me,” Angela said as she sat down at her desk, smiling at him. “I suppose I’ll see you soon, Gabriel.”

Gabriel grinned wider and shrugged. “I suppose you will.” And he left.

But in the weeks and months to come, he found himself in the medical wing a lot more. And not always because he was hurt. And every time, he brought Angela a cup of coffee—because she was pretty and funny and, well, who was he to not pay her fee in advance, just in case.

#overwatch #fanfiction #overwatch fanfiction #gabrielxangela #angelaxgabriel #gabriel reyes #angela ziegler #mercy #reaper #mercykill #reapcy #my writing #writing #fandom #ships #shipping #doctor ziegler #commander reyes #pre-fall of overwatch #first meeting

[thisisthe-way]

Mercykill Week - Day 2

OF MERCY AND DEATH - Fate

Angela was sweating. She could feel it under her Valkyrie suit. And bleeding, and though the wound on her head was healing quickly, she could feel the blood beginning to dry.

She clutched her Caduceus staff and stood, gasping at the bruised rib she clearly had, and hearing the sizzle of something short circuited in her suit. The wound on her face was only half healed now, and her rib aches as she stood. She coughed as night fell over King’s Row.

Lena and Winston were out there still; she could hear the struggles in the distance. Talon had decided to try and set off a bomb that would wipe out the omnics—trying to start a battle between the humans and omnics right in the center of England.

The three of them had decided to dispatch themselves to try and head off the attack, accompanied by Jesse and Fareeha, for old times sake

They had intercepted the Talon team transporting the bomb easily enough. She stayed tucked behind each of them, healing their wounds quickly and precisely—and then, she was thrust violently away from them, and she slammed hard through a window and into a wall. Who, or whatever, had removed her from the equation was now busy fighting alongside Talon to stop their team’s efforts.

She had to get back to them. She steered herself, switched the auxiliary on her staff on—a function she could use to continue healing if her suit was malfunctioning—and stepped out onto the road. She’d have to walk—her wings would be useless if her suit wasn’t working properly.

She paused suddenly when the air grew cold, and felt her chest, relieved to find the familiar cold metal beneath her suit. She hadn’t lost her ring during her fall.

The cold air seemed to grow thicker, and her brows furrowed. With quick and efficient movements, she spun and her blaster was pointed at the white skull mask that stood before her.

The robed figure paused. “Your form is off. I taught you better.”

Angela lowered her pistol and let out a long sigh. “There you are.” She slid her blaster back into its holster and picked up her staff. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Gabriel removed his mask and looked at her, eyes glowing red out of vitiligo’d skin. “Yes.”

She stepped toward him, paused. “Not everyone will be happy to see you.”

He chuckled almost menacingly. “I hope that’s true.”

Angela shook her head, blonde tendrils falling over her eyes. She touched her bruised rib when it twinged. “Who got me?”

“Doomfist,” Gabriel replied, reattaching his mask. “He wasn’t too happy with Widowmaker and I for failing him. So he retrieved his Fist himself.” Despite being unable to see his face now, she noticed his body language soften as he asked: “Are you alright?”

“A little banged up—my suit’s down but my staff is still functioning because of—“

“The auxiliary. I remember.” His head jerked away when he heard the fighting getting louder, and then jerked back when he felt her soft hands on his arm through his coat. A flawed glove slid over the small fingers, squeezed for a moment, silent. “Angie...”

“If you do this, there is no going back to Talon,” she replied. “Wraith or not, they will kill you. Are you sure this is what you want?”

The flawed hand touched her cheek, and she felt something between admiration, love, fear and pain, watching him move, watching him watch her beneath a mask. He gave a curt, silent nod, and dropped his hand, reaching for his shotguns. “Ready?”

A beam of golden healing steamed out into his body. “I’m with you.”

She didn’t know how, but she could feel him smirking under his mask, and she smiled a little, before it melted into a smirk of her own. “You’re turning the tables on Talon by doing this. Changing your fate. Overwatch’s fate.” She touched her ring under her suit. “Our fate.”

There was a growling chuckle that bubbles up from inside him as they started to move toward the sound of the fighting, and he raised his guns, keenly aware of the cool touch of metal under his own clothes. “Well,” he began, “then, I guess fate has had mercy on me and favors death today.”

#mercykillweek2017 #mercykillweek #mercy #reaper #gabriel reyes #angela ziegler #gabrielxangela #reaperxmercy #reapcy #writing #FanFiction #Overwatch #Overwatch FanFiction #my writing #fandom #ships #shipping

[thisisthe-way]

Of Mercy and Death - Family

Click.

“Let’s go.”

Click, click.

“Angie.”

Click, click, click.

“Angela.”

Cli—

Gabriel snatched the camera from Angela’s hand and shoved it in his hoodie pocket, glaring at his girlfriend, his expression something between serious and playful. “You’ve taken enough pictures of the Walk of Fame. Let’s go. We’re late.”

Angela glared back, placing her slim fingers on her hips as she gave her muscular Soldier boyfriend her most intimidating countenance. “You know I hate it when you snatch things from me like that.”

“The only time I snatch things from you is when you’ve been working for thirty hours straight and you won’t put the damn clipboard down and take a nap,” Gabriel replied, sliding an arm around her and walking toward their rental car. “I told my sister we were only going to be sight seeing for an hour and then we’d be over. And that was an hour ago.”

“Fine, fine,” Angela said when he opened the car door for her. “So...you’re sure she wants to meet me?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t she?” Gabriel said, as he closed the door and climbed into the driver’s side.

“She’s your only living relative, isn’t she?” Angela asked, checking her makeup in the sun visor mirror. Gabriel flapped the visor back up.

“You look beautiful.”

She glared playfully at him. “Answer my question.”

“Yes,” Gabriel said with a sigh. “Lupe is my only relative.”

“What if she hates me?” Angela asked.

“That’s a very nineteen year old fear.”

Angela gave him a dirty look. “I am nineteen.”

Gabriel massaged the bridge of his nose. “Angie.” He turned his brown eyes on her. “I love you. That’s all that matters. Lupe will have to deal.”

Starting the car, he started through the streets of Los Angeles, moving out of Hollywood and into the smaller neighborhoods of his past, where Mexican families would throw quincenearas and kick-backs.

He pulled up to a small house with a rusted white metal fence and a few porch awnings. It was older, and the smell of homemade tortillas wafted from it. He smiled a little sadly. “She’s making Mama’s tortillas. Come on.”

He climbed out of the car, and helped Angela out, kissing the top of her blonde head when he noticed she was shaking a little. “Relax.”

Climbing the few steps onto the front porch, he knocked on the screen.

A tall, thin woman with skin and hair that matched Gabriel’s opened the door, and smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re late, pendejo.”

Gabriel shrugged with a smirk of his own. “Lo siento, hermana. Ah, hey, this is the woman I was telling you about.” He places his large hands on Angela’s small shoulders. “This is Angela. Ange, this is Guadalupe Reyes. My sister.”

Lupe blinked, scratching her cheek as she sized Angela up. “Oh. Wow. You’re a...doctor?”

Angela nodded.

“How, uh, how old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

Lupe’s brown eyes shot to her brother, her eyebrows almost in her hairline. “Really.”

Gabriel gave her a pointed look. Don’t. “Can we come in?”

Lupe nodded and stepped aside for them.

“She doesn’t like me,” Angela whispered to Gabriel as he led her inside past Lupe. “She thinks I’m too young for you. I knew it.”

“Shush,” he whispered back, and smiled as he led her through the small house. “This is where I grew up.” He led her into the hallway that led to the two bedrooms in the house, and stopped in front of s picture of him and Lupe as children, standing in front of a beautiful, plump Hispanic woman with a tired but genuine smile on her face.

Angela noticed how Gabe softened as he gazed at the picture, and she touched his bicep through his sweater. “Your mother?”

He nodded. “Mama. She worked so hard. Two, sometimes three jobs, to buy this house, and make sure Lupe and I had what we needed. She...she passed away right before I joined the military. She was proud I wanted to fight the omnics—to have my life matter for something. When she died...I wanted to make her proud.”

Angela smiled and laid her cheek on his arm, looking at the picture. “You were a cute kid. Very handsome.” She grinned up at him.

Gabriel smirked down at her. “Oh yeah, make fun. Keep going.”

She giggled and pecked his lips with her own, scrunching her nose hen his goatee tickled her face. “Mm, yes, very handsome.” She scratched his goatee with her nails, and he kissed her fingers.

Lupe cleared her throat from behind them. “Dinner’s ready.”

—-

“Are you serious about her, Gabriel?” Lupe asked, drying the dishes that Gabriel washed after they finished eating, while Angela made a phone call to headquarters in the next room to check in.

“What do you mean?” He asked, looking at his sister.

“You don’t think she’s too young for you?” She asked, sliding plane porcelain plates up into the cupboards above their head. “She’s nineteen, Gabe. And you’re in your thirties. Mid to late thirties, mind you.”

“She’s a well renowned doctor and scientist. She doesn’t act nineteen.” All the time, he added to himself. “And yes, I’m pretty serious about her. Enough to introduce her to you.”

“Har, har,” Lupe deadpanned. “I’m being realistic here, Gabe. Do you really see a future with some brainiac German gringa who’s way too young for you?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes, scrubbing at a pan and rinsing it. “She’s Swiss. And if you must know,” he pulled his hands out of the suds and dried them, before pulling a small velvet box out of his pocket, slamming it onto the counter. “Yeah. I do.”

“Ay Dios mio,” Lupe whispered, opening the box. “You’re going to—?”

Gabriel sighed and leaned back against the counter, crossing his muscular arms over his wide chest. “Yes. Eventually. So I’d really like it if you could try to accept the fact that I’m crazy about this girl, huh? She actually thinks you don’t like her.”

Lupe shook her head, pushing her short black strands behind her ear. “Alright. I’ll try.” She smiled a little bit. “At least if you’re married to a doctor, I know she’ll always be able to patch you up.”

Gabriel chuckled. “Gee, thanks for finding the silver lining.”

Angela came back into the room and slid her small arms around one of Gabriel’s large ones, her eyes meeting Lupe’s warmly. “I’m sorry. I was just checking in on some of my patients. Do you need my help with the dishes?” She glanced up at Gabriel.

“Oh, no!” Lupe said, shoving the ring box quickly back into Gabriel’s hoodie pocket. “No, we’re finished.”

“Oh, good.”

“Hey, Angela, I...” Lupe paused, swallowed and crossed her arms over her chest—Angela noticed how alike she and Gabe were in many respects—before continuing. “...I can tell you love my brother. Will you promise me something?”

Angela blinked, curiously, and Gabriel raised an eyebrow at his sister, as his girlfriend nodded.

Lupe looked up at Gabe, and then met Angela’s eyes seriously. “I’m sure you know by now that Gabriel is a fighter. He always has been, since he was a teenager. And...I’m sure he comes home hurt, a lot.”

Angela’s heart clenched and she tightened her hold on Gabriel’s arm. “Yes. It worries me. He knows that though.” She glanced up at him.

Lupe nodded. “Yeah, he’s so stubborn.”

“Right?” Angela agreed, giggling a little. “I can’t even get him to put his beer bottles in the recycle bin.”

“You still don’t recycle? Mama would smack you!” Lupe said. “Even this neighborhood recycles now.”

“I’m so glad you two are getting along,” Gabriel mumbled, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

Lupe looked at Angela in surprise, and both women laughed, before the Hispanic woman touched the Swiss woman’s arm. “Sorry, I got sidetracked. Will you...will you promise me you’ll always fix him up when he’s hurt? Protect him? ...save him?”

Angela’s brow furrowed into a deep ‘V’ and then looked up at her boyfriend, watching him smile down at her despite how much they’d been picking on him before. She couldn’t help but smile back, and she pressed up on her tiptoes and let her lips meet his in a long, deep kiss, feeling his free arm slid around the small of her back. Her heart warmed and fluttered, and when the kiss broke, she laid her cheek against his broad chest, glancing at Lupe.

“Of course, Lupe,” Angela said, and it was clear to Gabriel’s sister that, despite their age difference; this woman was head over heels in love with her brother.

“I promise.”

//////

Black. Black everywhere. Somber faces. An empty coffin.

The service was silent and sad. The remaining Overwatch agents were in attendance—including Angela Ziegler-Reyes.

And so was Guadalupe, and her new husband.

When the service was over, Angela approached them outside of the Los Angeles church. Her face was stained with tears, and she murmured, “Hello, Lupe.”

Lupe gave her a withering look. “I heard a rumor that you’re the reason we don’t have a body to bury.”

A lanky, snakelike red headed woman listened intently, discreetly, from under a black veil, smirking quietly to herself.

“I—I tried to save him. He just—“ Angela began, tears streaming down her cheeks again.

“You made me a promise,” Lupe snapped. “And you broke it.” She turned her back on Angela and allowed her husband to lead her away before Angela could see her tears.

Angela stood in the middle of the sidewalk, the bright LA sun a cruel contrast to the gloom inside her heart, as she watched the last piece of Gabriel walk out of her life, forever.

And Moira O’Deorain chuckled to herself from under her veil, to watch as Angela Ziegler bore the weight of blame for her own husband’s demise, on top of the crushing blow of not only losing him, but watching him ‘die’.

#mercykill #overwatch fanfiction #fanfiction #overwatch #gabriel reyes #angela ziegler #mercyxreaper #gabrielxangela #reapcy #my writing #fandom #shipping #this went really long #not sure if im happt with it #oh well #enjoy

[thisisthe-way]

Sidesteps of Mercy and Death - Mercy and the Gunslinger on Route 66

(This will be exactly what the title implies — a sidestep of my one-shot built fic “Of Mercy and Death” where Mercykill is implied but it’s more of a buddy snapshot, if you will, between McCree and Angela. Enjoy!)

//////

“We shouldn’t be here.”

Angela adjusted the settings on her Valkyrie suit and looked up at the owner of the voice just as the sun began to set over the small diner they stood in front of. “We have to be, Jesse. We can’t let these men have this bomb.”

“You seen these posters?” He asked, holding up one of the flyers he’d ripped off of a power line post nearby. “These men intend t’shoot me on sight if they see me. I’d rather not die today.”

“Heroes never die,” Angela shot back with a smirk as she checked the settings on her Caduceus staff.

“You’re not funny.”

“Gabriel thought I was hilarious,” Angela replied, and then glanced at Jesse when he snorted and wadded up the flyer, throwing it off the nearby cliff.

“Gabe thought a lot of things,” Jesse said, crossing his arms over his chest, his hat covering his now dark eyes. “And to be fair, he only laughed at your cooking.”

“Fick dich ins Knie, McCree,” the blonde woman replied, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Did you just say something about my di—“

“Keep going and the next time you need your temperature taken, I’m using the baby thermometer,” Angela replied, and they grinned at each other.

There was a long silence, and McCree leaned against the wall of an overturned train car, shaking his head. “How long’s It been since we lost him?”

Angela’s shock at the question forced her to pause her work abruptly. Her shoulders slumped, her form growing heavy, her eyes becoming glassy as she reminisced briefly. She cleared her throat and steeled herself a little, finishing her adjustments and turning to check the health of her blaster—which was a habit her late husband had instilled in her before a battle.

“Nine years,” she whispered back, checking all of the compartments of the gun, ensuring it was working and aiming and functioning properly.

Jesse nodded, looked down at his prosthetic hand and then across the way to another of the hanging posters, when he heard Angela ask, “Do you miss him?”

Jesse chuckled, a little bitterly in fact. “Yeah, every damn day. And if I’m honest, I resent him a little bit.”

Angela looked up from her work and her eyes met the side of his scruffy face. “Jesse?”

“It ain’t like you think,” he said and pulled a cigar from his belt, lighting it and sticking it in his mouth. “I ain’t mad at him for dying.”

Angela tilted her head curiously at him, sticking her blaster back in its holster.

“Or maybe I am. He saved me from Deadlock. Came and got me; got me out. Gave me a home and a family—someone to look up to,” Jesse said, puffing his cigar, before approaching one of the poles and putting the cigar out on his sketched on face. “Who told him he could just go and die like that? Leave me here t’... be wanted dead by the assholes he saved me from?”

Angela chuckled a little sadly. “He...and Jack, if we’re honest...were...not well at the end, I suppose. But how do you cope with something you built with your own blood, sweat and tears falling to ruin in front of your eyes? Especially as a soldier...”

Jesse snorted.

“And it’s no excuse,” she tacked on, “but they were soldiers before anything else. Gabe was a Soldier. And he was...” She swallowed, “the best husband...a good friend and colleague and...funny and sweet and he did make fun of my cooking and god, he was good in bed, like, made me weak in the knees every time he—“

“You really don’t have to talk about that part,” Jesse said, slipping his thumbs into his belt.

“Sorry,” Angela said, realizing she’d gone on a tangent, “...what I mean to say is, he was all of those wonderful things, Jesse. He was your brother, a father figure, but at the end of the day, first and foremost, he was a soldier. And he was a soldier who had seen trauma and that kind of trauma can have...”

Jesse bowed his head, tipping his hat over his eyes again.

Angela trailed off and sighed. “I know...he didn’t want to leave either of us. He loved us.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder, a firmness in her eyes. “He loved us. And if he were here, he’d help you kick all of those Deadlock men’s asses.”

Jesse chuckled. “Yeah. Sounds like Gabe.”

“But he isn’t so...I will.”

Jesse’s eyes widened. “What?”

“If it comes down to it, I will help you with the Deadlock gang. And I know the rest of us that remain will, too,” she replied, just as she heard a ship landing behind the cafe.

“Speakin’ of,” Jesse said, smirking as he heard Winston’s deep baritone and Lena’s cheery cry. He looked at Angela and smiled.

“Sounds like its time t’get to work.” He paused and pulled the medic into a hug. “Thanks, Ange.”

She squeezed him back tightly. “Always, Jesse. Always.” It’s what Gabe would do.

//////

Off in the distance, atop one of the crags that hung over the diner and the lucrative payload stood a hooded figure next to a cold-as-ice sniper.

“Jesse McCree is on your list, isn’t he?” The woman asked, her voice dripping with French undertones. “If we deliver this bomb while he’s trying to defend it, we’ll be delivering him and it directly into the Deadlock’s hands. Two birds. One stone.”

The hooded figure have a curt nod, but his eyes were focused on the small figures below—the cowboy who still reminded him of a scared, angry kid in over his head...

And the angel who would fight with her life to protect that scared, angry kid that she knew a man she once loved had cared for so very much.

#mercykill #mercy #reaper #angelaxgabriel #gabrielxangela #reaperxmercy #mercyxreaper #reapcy #overwatch #overwatch fanfiction #fiction #writing #my writing #fandom #ships #gabriel reyes #angela ziegler #oneshot #jesse mccree #mccree #blackwatch

[thisisthe-way]

Help!!

Now that Mercykill Week is over, I’m not sure what my next one-shot/fic should be about!! Send me prompts!! (Mind you, I will write implied nsfw content but nothing explicit.)

#mercykill #reapcy #ideas #prompts #writing #fanfiction #overwatch #gabriel reyes #angela ziegler #gabrielxangela #help!