#genji would be a better choice than hanzo
you know what I’d really like now, after baptiste’s reveal? for some of the characters who don’t really seem like natural fits to join the organization of the new overwatch, or have outright stated they won’t, but still have some good they want to do/redemption to get in
to band together in a loose coalition/group and wreck some Havoc on the bad guys. I’m thinking characters like Baptiste, Hanzo and Symmetra (who all have gooood reason not to trust organized anything but still have the underpinnings of decency and could do a lot of good), McCree (who sort-of refused the call but very clearly has boldly taken to the good guy business <3), potentially Sombra if she ever double crosses Talon and merrily goes on her own way but she’s probably mostly on her own side so like... she’d mostly feed them info and shit, I guess, we could fit Soldier 76 and Ana in there at least part-time, popping in to do some mentoring and then chasing after Reaper again... Baptiste has a sort of clearness of vision and charisma about him, I feel like if anyone could inspire and herd these cats for long enough to get them to work towards a common goal it’s him
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Does Hanzo ever find out what Genji went through/what he was like during Blackwatch? If so, how does he react?
I think he does eventually, like... Genji lets him know that he was in a very difficult physical and emotional place with Blackwatch, and Hanzo’s able to pick up from Mercy that “Okay no, I don’t think you understand, it was really bad”--but she’s also fairly light on the details mostly for Genji’s sake like “Hey, I’m not going to tell you any more than Genji was comfortable with telling you.” And Zenyatta hangs back for the same reasons, and also he wasn’t there so he doesn’t want to distort the details from what Genji’s told him. So the one person Hanzo can actually get the full story from... is McCree.
Also this fic references the first meeting fic so yeah!
“Well?” Hanzo had one elbow resting on the bar. Music was faintly playing but it blended in with the humming murmur of the other patrons. Snowflakes were buffeting the glass of the windowpanes just outside and both of them had shrugged off their heavier coats. The bar itself had a homey, lived-in quality to it. Not dirty, but with a definite age to it that seemed to lend a further brightness to the bodies gliding through it and chatting. The icy Andean wind had heightened the redness of Hanzo’s nose and cheeks well before any alcohol had. It contrasted against the cold discernment of his dark brown eyes.
“I’m gonna answer your question with a question--” McCree started.
“Which isn’t an answer--”
McCree leaned back in his bar seat, folding his arms across himself. He almost looked sagely. “Are you asking this because you genuinely think it will help you get a gauge on your shit and move forward, or are you freaking out because things are going more okay than you think you deserve and feel a need to kick yourself square in the Rocky Mountain oysters?”
“It’s this fried--I’m talking about--” McCree sighed and sipped his whiskey, “I’m saying you’re doing... you’re doing really well, Hanzo. You’re touching base with the team, reachin’ out, you seem to be sleeping and eating better, hell, you’re clutch on missions, but now you’re asking about this, and it worries me.”
“Why should it worry you?” Hanzo’s eyes narrowed.
“Because--y’know... I care about you. You’re a part of this team and I care about you... in a..” McCree cleared his throat, “Team-y way. And... you were stuck in a dark lonely place and I ain’t itchin’ to give you the means to go back there. ”
“But you can understand that the fact that I don’t have the full story distresses me more, can you not?” said Hanzo, “As well as the fact that knowing the more the truth of it is obscured with me, the worse I can assume the situation was.”
McCree scratched at his beard, frowning. “Yeah... yeah I can understand it--but I can also understand Mercy and Zen not spillin’ the beans on Genji’s account.”
“Mm...” Hanzo glanced off and sipped his own drink.
McCree twisted his glass slowly, “Then again, sometimes I think Reyes brought me on the team to begin with because I have a pretty high success rate with the whole, ‘Beg forgiveness before asking permission’ rate.”
Ana called you a charmer, the words almost slipped out of Hanzo but he wasn’t sure how they would land, so he held them in. Instead, Hanzo only mildly gestured at the bartender to refill McCree’s glass.
“Don’t think you’re getting it just because you’re gettin’ me drunk. It ain’t exactly a pretty story,” said McCree.
“I’m prepared,” said Hanzo.
McCree studied him a few moments longer, one hand still wrapped around his glass and one corner of his mouth pulled up with indecision before he closed his eyes and exhaled. “All right,” he said, “If only to keep you from kicking your own ass over what you don’t know.”
“I want you to start at the beginning,” said Hanzo, his stare steady.
“Well t’be fair, Blackwatch was casin’ Hanamura for months, even before your old man passed--er---my condolences--”
Hanzo snorted a little. “It’s... fine,” he said a bit awkwardly. He was more disarmed than really upset at the idea that McCree may have been far better versed in the activities of the Shimada Clan than he had really anticipated.
“Gérard, that is, our UN Attaché, had this whole thing about ‘pulling everything out to the light,’---And the fella was good at it. Could sniff out paper trails and track down dirty money like no other. The initial plan was to get Genji on possession charges and drag the whole clan out behind him. Your old man’s passin’--again, condolences--threw the whole schedule off though. And then we received additional intel that the Shimada dragons might be more.... uh... what’s the word for ‘unusual’ but it’s like... more business-y unusual?”
“Un... Im... Uhhh.... Anomalous! That’s the word! Might be more anomalous than we thought and ‘warranting further investigation’ or whatever,” McCree seemed to be easing into the story now, plucking up details from debriefings, “SEP and all its affiliates had been more or less shut down post-Crisis, but there were still worries about human experimentation... strange abilities, and the like. And the dragon stories had been floating around your family for decades, but only when things got destabilized did we consider they might be more than stories. Then we got word that the wheels had been set in motion that the clan would kill Genji before we could get our hands on him--Arrest mission became extraction mission, and extraction mission became rescue mission. The time frame was so sudden we had to bring the Doc along because we thought she would be our best chance at saving him--She wasn’t in Blackwatch, you understand. Wasn’t too keen on undermining the Japanese government either. But... it turns out bringing her along was the right choice.”
Hanzo seemed to be maintaining a veneer of calm, but there was an unmistakeable new undercurrent of tension in his movements and expression as he sipped his own drink.
“You know what he looked like when you left him,” said McCree, “Do you really want me to go into the details there?”
“Yes,” said Hanzo.
McCree huffed and took another gulp of whiskey. The burn of alcohol rasped the first few words of his next sentence. “So it was me, Reyes, the Doc, and a handful of Blackwatch extraction medics touching down in Hanamura that night. Apparently the Shimada clan’s forces were decentralized from the castle. We infiltrated the castle grounds. Found a handful of your security already dead. Took out one more... left his body with the others. Didn’t have time to run a full investigation, or lock anything down. Finding Genji was the top priority. And we found him. Three limbs gone. Puddle of his own blood. Looked midway between... someone had dropped him in a garbage disposal but at the same time... not right--just... gone. The limbs were gone. The wounds were too clean but still bleedin’ out.”
Hanzo’s knuckles curled in, white and shaking as he took a steadying breath. “Consumed,” Hanzo said quietly, “The dragon consumed them.”
“I can stop--” McCree started.
“Finish what you start, Cowboy,” Hanzo’s voice was steady.
McCree swallowed. “I’d seen some fucked up shit under Reyes, but this... yeah, it was new. I kind of froze up, not quite scared, but just trying to make sense of it. But then I snapped out of it as the Doc rushed to him first. I had a vantage point in case other castle security showed up. Reyes was at the opening to that big-ass balcony so he could flag down our evac. So uh, what you need to understand here is that we uh... we actually had very little solid intel as to what the Shimada dragons were capable of.”
“...but I had left the scene well before this,” said Hanzo, trying to puzzle out the timeline of his own fleeing the castle grounds.
“Yeah it... wasn’t your dragon we saw,” said McCree, “See, the Doc, she had to do this... staff... defibrillation thing? I didn’t get a good look at it but Genji, he uh...started thrashin’ and this light sprang out of him. Bright green. Never seen anything like it. He was screaming. Next thing I know he’s grabbing Mercy’s neck.”
Hanzo flinched with some alertness. “What?”
“I mean--first instinct, I’m saying to Reyes, ‘Boss, I got a shot’--like, I know the mission was asset acquisition, but light show or not I wasn’t about to let him kill Angela, but then she hollers out ‘Don’t shoot him!’ And I’m stuck there looking to Reyes like, ‘You’re gonna override that, right?’ And... and Reyes was so calm... I--I could see him doing the math. Breaking people down to resources... breaking their deaths down to trade-offs...”
“You... thought you had to shoot Genji--” Hanzo’s brow was crinkling.
“If Reyes gave me the word,” McCree shrugged, then itched at the brim of his hat, “I never thought someone would hesitate on saving the doc like he was doing right there, though. But.... then she said something to Genji. Never asked what it was, but it seemed to calm him down before he passed out.”
“And you’re saying he grabbed her neck when they first met,” Hanzo’s eyes were narrowed, “But they’re...”
“Well, he was only half-conscious and in this full-on survival mode and she had just... jammed a huge amount of biotic-whatever into his chest. He didn’t know if she was helping or trying to... y’know it was like those times you nearly punched me in the face when I was trying to wake you up from those night terrors.”
“I’m sorry for that,” said Hanzo.
“Psh. If I had a nickel for every time someone took a swing at me out of some kind of traumatic reflex...” he smiled to try and make this seem more lighthearted than it actually was, but Hanzo seemed to still be processing everything, so McCree cleared his throat. “Word of advice, though, don’t make any ‘I guess you’re into that’ jokes with the doc,” he said with a nervous laugh, “No it uh... it took them both a while. I mean, there was this thing there, definitely, but yeah, they were both neck-deep in a whole bunch of shit for a while before they really acknowledged anything.”
“Did Genji take a swing at you?” asked Hanzo.
“Not outside of a Blackwatch sparring ring,” said McCree, “But Jesus, he was scary on the training floor. Still is, sometimes.” McCree paused for a few seconds. “He was obsessed with killing you, y’know. Taking down the whole clan and killing you. Every mission where he got a sniff of you, every mission he thought you might be there and you weren’t, he’d come back snarling.”
Hanzo blinked a few times and glanced down. He knew it made sense, given the idea of justice their family had ingrained in them, but there was still an odd sting to the idea. But I’m his brother, he thought, but then he thought, But that didn’t stop me.
McCree seemed to take Hanzo’s silence as permission to go on. “ I’d try to distract him... try to get his head out of his ass sometimes, but a lot of the time... you see any living thing in a state like that, all you can do is give it space. Genji did give us a decent amount of intel on the Shimada clan’s bigger operations... but when it came to actually getting in there... he was always the first one on the ground. As you can imagine, it was personal for him. There were a handful of bullshit ‘stakeouts’ in Japan where Genji would ditch me... I knew Reyes wasn’t telling me the whole story, then again, it wasn’t my job to know the whole story.” McCree sipped his drink. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t know what he was doing, though.”
“...killing heads of the clan,” Hanzo said quietly.
“Can’t exactly confirm or deny that but... yeah,” said McCree. A prickle of alarm seemed to go through him. “Look, I don’t want to kick off any more brother-killing fuckery--”
“You’re not, Jesse,” Hanzo’s voice was subdued, “I was the right hand of the clan... and the destruction wrought by Genji was, if anything, a product of my own actions.”
“Also his actions--He was fucking nightmare--I mean I liked him, but he was a fucking nightmare, sometimes. Lashed out--like... you didn’t really think of him as giving a shit about you with all that seething over the Shimada clan--- but then he’d know how to say something that hurts, and he knows exactly how it hurts, and you wouldn’t know if he learned how to hurt that bad from your family or just because he was hurtin’ that bad and---” McCree seemed to catch the alarmed look in Hanzo’s eyes, then took a steadying breath before sipping his drink again, “Look... this stuff... it’s all in the past. And he is a lot better now. And he is one of my best friends. Kind of wild how someone who hurt you that deeply can be a best friend like that, but... that’s kind of how life works. Kind of how this shit works when you don’t know if you’re coming back from that next mission. We’re all fucked up here. It’s about learning to take the fucked up parts of yourself and trying to make it into something that helps the people that mean something to you. ”
“The people that mean something to me...” Hanzo repeated quietly. He remembered McCree’s words from his second night on the watchpoint. ‘We’re all just background noise to you. You’re just here so you can stop kicking your own ass after Genji.’ Then he remembered Genji’s words. ‘Well... you’ve been traveling the world for a decade... has there... been anyone? Anyone special? Anyone you loved?’
“...I feel like I’ve let that part of me atrophy,” Hanzo said quietly. Answering Genji’s question, not McCree’s words.
“Atrophy?” McCree repeated.
“When you don’t use a muscle for a long time and... it ceases to be able to functi--”
“I know what ‘Atrophy’ means--” McCree wasn’t making eye contact, “You let... caring about other people... atrophy,” he parsed, trying to trace out Hanzo’s thought process.
“Mm,” Hanzo took a sip of his own drink, “So while I was wandering in grief, Genji was consumed by pain and rage.”
“Which... he’s told you,” said McCree.
“Well, yes, but he didn’t go into details,” said Hanzo, “I know, this might be difficult or painful to talk about, but I really do appreciate getting a more complete picture of what happened to him after my actions.”
McCree tilted his own glass back and forth on the bar counter, letting the whiskey rock around the interior.“I know, but...don’t heap all this on yourself. Reyes always said he wanted the cockroach motherfuckers, and he was more than happy to let Genji snap and swear and lash out and burn the house down because that suited Blackwatch’s agenda better than, I dunno, therapy? Only when we got benched after the Venice incident did he yank in Genji’s leash, because hey, it turned out having a PTSD cyborg tearin’ around the base cussin’ people out wasn’t a good look for Blackwatch.”
Hanzo huffed a little. There was an odd comfort in that. But then he paused, running over the course of McCree’s words in his mind. “...you keep bringing up Reyes,” Hanzo said, fixing his eyes on McCree.
“Sorry--I--I know this should be about Genji,” said McCree.
“No it... it gives some perspective,” said Hanzo, “You trusted Reyes, didn’t you?”
McCree’s mouth tightened for a few seconds before he drew in a short breath through his nostrils. “Yeah... yeah, I did. He just... I mean I’d keep telling myself I was my own person, that I did things with my own style, but so did he. So like... whether it’s ‘your own style’ from fuckin’ Santa Fe or Los Angeles... is there really that much of a difference? If you still picture yourself in their boots, give or take a decade or so?”
“Hm,” Hanzo was thoughtful at this, “I imagined myself in my father’s position so long that when everything came apart and I found myself wandering the world, dodging the clan’s assassins I felt... like a stranger.”
“Kind of liked being a stranger,” said McCree with slight shrug, “Stranger’s from nowhere. Got nothing to prove.... guess it probably hits different if you got a whole... magical crime lord prince destiny thing, huh?”
“The dragon is not magical,” said Hanzo flatly, but a smile was tugging at his lips.
“Debatable,” said McCree, “First of all: It’s a dragon.”
Hanzo snorted and a quiet pause passed between them. Not uncomfortable, but definitely tired, letting McCree’s words and all the pain and memory that came with them drift and dissipate into the warm air of the bar.
“...I could tell you more if you want,” said McCree, after a few beats. “I do have funnier stories... wasn’t all... ‘he was fucked up.’ And--Genji did seem to be getting better-ish towards the end there, once they put him on Tracer’s strike team... but by then Overwatch itself was coming apart.” He snorted. “I guess that’s kind of a running theme with this stuff.”
“I appreciate the offer,” said Hanzo with a slight chuckle. He paused. “Tracer’s strike team?”
“Well, she and Winston probably got more stories there than I do,” said McCree, “And maybe the doc, if it’s in good faith.” He sipped his drink. “You’re welcome to run off to try and ask them about it.”
“I think... this is enough for now,” said Hanzo. After a few beats he said, “You’re not... all background noise to me.”
“What?” said McCree.
“That... you said that on the second night,” said Hanzo, “It’s... it’s not that I don’t value life, or other people--I’m just... it’s been a very long time since I’ve worked with other people, since I’ve talked to other people on a regular basis like this, since I’ve stayed in one place this long, and...” he trailed off, then took a sip of his own drink with some resolve, “I’m afraid,” he said, letting those words sit in the air for a few seconds, “I’m afraid of lending my abilities to another organization that’s used people to hurt other people and then tossed them aside. When your only connection to other people for most of your life was this twisted blood loyalty...” Hanzo trailed off.
“I’m scared of makin’ the same mistakes too, for what it’s worth,” said McCree, “I don’t think fear like that ever goes away.”
“Redemption’s a bitch?” said Hanzo with a slight smile.
McCree broke into chuckles. “You should swear more often. I feel like that’ll help.”
“You’ve sworn plenty for the both of us, tonight,” said Hanzo crisply, sipping his own drink.
“Still, I’m gonna make it a mission to get a ‘fuck’ out of you,” said McCree and Hanzo choked and sputtered. “I didn’t mean it like that! You know what I mean!” McCree was laughing as Hanzo’s attention was split between choking and laughing and desperately looking around for a napkin after spitting his drink. The bartender swooped by with a napkin and the laughs boiled down into chuckles as Hanzo cleaned up a bit. There was another pause then, that same settling of understanding.
“Thank you,” Hanzo said after a few beats.
“You already thanked me--don’t know what’s worth thanking about saying ‘hey your brother was fucked up and so were we.’”
“Honesty. I appreciate honesty.”
McCree smiled and then shrugged.“Hey--y’know, for all the shit I give you,” McCree started and trailed off, “What I said that night about... all of us being background noise... I know that.. that wasn’t really fair. You really didn’t know any of us and, y’know, as far as the general public is concerned, we’re a whole bunch of mercenary weirdoes doing vigilante shit.”
“And Genji was the only person here I knew, and was really...” Hanzo sighed, “I suppose, I fixed him in my mind to be my last chance at humanity--and made myself out to be a monster to all of you in pursuing that.”
“Well... you’re doing better, I can tell you that much. And... y’know folks are warming up to you.”
“Except Angela,” said Hanzo, with a weary smile.
“She needs time on that... I wouldn’t try to force it,” said McCree, “Baby steps and all that.”
Hanzo huffed a little.
“Hey,” McCree lifted his glass, “To baby steps and runnin’ the hell away from all our old role models.”
“Indeed,” Hanzo clinked his glass against Genji’s. Both sipped their drinks and another pause passed over them. Hanzo felt McCree’s eyes on him and looked over at him.l
“Hey just so we’re clear,” McCree’s chin was in his hand, “I didn’t accidentally kick off some huge new bloody vengeance thing by telling you all this, right?”
“You did not,” said Hanzo with a wry smile.
“Oh thank god.”
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Thistles and Weeds
Pairing: McCree x Reader (She/Her)
Rating: Teen and up Audiences
Word Count: 3194
Summary: Soldier 76 pulls you off an upcoming mission and you stay in Gibraltar - just like the infamous Jesse McCree. Supposedly you can't stand the cowboy, but there's more to it than that.
Bored, you balanced the pen on your hand, barely listening as the commander explained the situation and assigned the roles for the upcoming mission. The briefing was more boring than usual and if Soldier:76 wasn't such a strict commander you would have put your boots on the table and leaned back. But woe betide the one who messed with the mysterious commander, then there was usually house arrest and so much punishment work that you were busy for the next three weeks.
"Am I boring you?" Everyone suddenly stared at you, and you looked up from your playfulness with the pencil, scrutinized the annoyed faces around you, and froze at the impatient, angry aura of Soldier:76.
"Not, Sir!" you replied and looked forward to the screen. The tactical advance for the mission was recorded there and you tried to make sense of it, but without much success. Which of those little arrows were you again?
"All right, you're out," growled Soldier:76 and made a sweeping hand movement. "I'll take Tracer instead."
"What?!" you shouted angrily and jumped up from your chair. "I have been looking forward to this action for weeks! I've been stuck in this stuffy base for ages-"
"Silence!!", thundered your Commander and you immediately fell silent, but gnashed your teeth furiously. "If you feel like the briefing is unworthy of you, then you will not come. Dismissed."
You stared at him for a moment, opened your mouth in protest - but denied yourself the biting answers. He was your superior, your commander, and an objection would be disrespectful and have serious consequences.
"Yes, Sir." you rumbled and turned around and disappeared from the conference room under the gaze of the other agents. Anger bubbled in your stomach as you stepped to the elevator. You banged your fist violently on the button and waited for the doors to open. You just did a fantastic job, there was an interesting mission and you were stuck here in Gibraltar! To make matters worse, the base was virtually deserted, as almost all of the other agents were in the field. Only Tracer, Mercy, Hanzo and McCree were still there and now Tracer would take part in this mission instead of you. It made your blood boil.
The elevator door opened and you stared into a familiar face, even if it wasn't necessarily your best friend.
"Hanzo, hello." you greeted the archer with a friendly nod, but he just raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms as you entered the elevator.
"You are angry." he remarked softly and you rolled your eyes next to him. Why were the Shimada brothers so good at reading people?
"76 took me off the mission." you murmured softly and Hanzo snorted an amused snort. He knew about your temperament and your disinterest in the conferences and briefings. It wasn't the first time you had messed up a mission before it even started.
"So you'll be alone with McCree all week." he said with a hint of gloating in his voice. "I hope that the base is still standing when I get back."
"Wait, what?", you dug in, suddenly wide awake at his words. "You're leaving too?!"
"Genji asked for some help with the operation in Brazil." he replied. "I have accepted."
"But- You can't leave me alone with this idiot cowboy!" you begged immediately, tugging at his sleeve. "Hanzo, please! This badly aiming poncho idiot is-"
"Is what, exactly?" The door to the elevator had opened and you saw the hat, the poncho and the crooked grin. Your voice must have been too loud, because Jesse McCree had overheard everything. He looked at you, seemed to want you to finish the sentence. You pulled the corners of your mouth down and moaned in annoyance, while Hanzo could hardly resist a quiet laugh. Your tiffs with McCree were all too familiar to everyone in the base, you were really like cat and mouse. He loved to tease and your huge ego collided with his almost daily. Several times it had ended in fisticuffs, and in the end, you always ended up sitting with Mercy in pairs, getting patched up and scolded by her loud and clear. At times it had become so bad that Soldier:76 could no longer assign you to a mission together. Sure, it was unprofessional - but Jesse McCree was the biggest pain on the planet!
"Oh, he's a really lousy shot, and even with a plastic pistol I'd have him on the mat in less than two minutes." you finally finished your sentence, and McCree snorted mockingly, one hand on his Peacekeeper.
"Try it." he replied, and Hanzo immediately slid between the two of you, one hand on your shoulder and one on McCree's chest.
"Enough." he said emphatically, giving the cowboy a challenging look. "Jesse, I thought we were going to train. But if you'd rather argue with her--"
"You'd better teach that cowboy something else," you hissed and looked at the dirty poncho disparagingly. "Or he'll hurt himself on his next ride!"
"Is that the best you can do?" he growled in return and tapped his hat. "Real weak - even for you, sweetheart."
You immediately wanted to reply to the 'sweetheart', but Hanzo already pushed Jesse to the shooting range and you had no choice but to give him the middle finger and go to your quarters with an angry growl stuck in your throat.
"A real tomboy, huh?", Jesse asked as he looked at you and Hanzo turned his eyes on his friend.
"If you like her so much, why do you wind her up like that all the time?" the archer asked, entering the code to the shooting range on the control panel of the door. Jesse, on the other hand, was still staring down the hall, almost as if he hoped you'd come back and throw more insults at his head. "You know very well she's very hot-headed."
"Yup, she really is," the cowboy agreed and followed Hanzo to the training area, which was located under the base and was used much more often by Hanzo than by Jesse McCree. "And a real beauty, too."
Hanzo gave him a quick glance out of the corner of his eye and put on his gloves, running his fingers over the string of his bow.
"You should be nicer to her," he said softly, tensing the bowstring a few times, pulling his arm back and staying in that position to warm up his muscles. "She has no idea that the badly aiming poncho idiot gets a watery mouth when he thinks of her."
"Hah, you got me there!" Jesse confessed and pulled his revolver out of the holster, took a quick look inside and nodded contentedly. "She's a real eye-catcher, that girl."
Hanzo didn't answer, but instead pulled an arrow out of his quiver and tensed the string, held his breath - and hit the mark. The easy-to-repair training robots were not real enemies, but they were enough to warm up. Hanzo took another arrow and hit the next head shot perfectly, as well as the third and fourth. Jesse watched the whole thing silently, took a puff from his cigar every now and then, and seemed to be a little lost in thought.
"The mission scheduled for the day after tomorrow," Hanzo suddenly said, looking at his friend with a mischievous smile. "Soldier:76 has grounded her."
"No way!" it fell from McCree's lips and he stared at the archer in amazement. So would you stay here at the base? While the otherwise eternally bouncing tracers and D.Va were also in the field?
"I guess she was messing with the commander again," Hanzo continued, watching as Jesse straightened his hat and threw the poncho over his shoulder, holding the revolver in place.
"The day just keeps getting better and better..." the cowboy murmured, and he took aim, held his breath for a split second - and fired. Two, three, four and five robots disintegrated into a pile of scrap metal, while Jesse gloated over the coming days. Oh, this would be such fun!
Two days later, you were sitting in the evening sun of Gibraltar in a bad mood, trying not to get too upset about the mosquitoes and the stuffy weather. The base was actually emptier than ever before and you tried with all means not to let your anger get the upper hand. Instead of sitting around here, you could be on your way to Italy right now - but no, you had to be stuck in that dusty sea of cliffs and caustic encounters with the cowboy. McCree was even more annoying than usual, now that Hanzo had left the base as well and apparently he was bored. The fitting of his new prosthetic arm kept him here with you, otherwise he would probably have flown to Italy instead of Tracer with Soldier:76, Winston, Reinhardt and some other agents.
"Hey, beautiful." Speak of the devil. You heard the deep, smoky voice and the metallic clang of spurs behind you, and yet you didn't even bother to look up.
"What do you want?" you asked coolly, but Jesse didn't let your dismissive manner get in the way, stopped beside you and took a deep puff of his cigar to blow the smoke into the evening sun.
"Hanzo is not here" he replied. "I could use a substitute partner for practice."
"Usually they have to drag you to the shooting range with force."
"Come on, sweetheart, don't leave me hanging." he tried again and your stomach lurched once more at the nicknames he gave you. "Sweetheart", "Beauty" and "Love". This cursed, tempting cowboy would drive you out of your mind again! You'd love to sink your fingers into that brown hair and have him above you while he whispered naughty things in your ear in a dark voice...
"Get lost," you growled instead and crossed your arms in front of your chest. You would never give in to temptation, especially not this man! He looked at every woman with growing enthusiasm, whistling appreciatively when she had a nice rack, and that pissed you off for a long time. If he was looking for a bed bunny after all, you were not to be had for that!
"Do I have to beg on my knees before you?" Finally you looked up to him and under the shadow of the brim of your hat you saw two brown eyes looking at you with a provocative look. As theatrically as possible you groaned and held out your hand to him, which he immediately took and pulled you up from the ground.
"Half an hour." you agreed. "Because I can't bear you any longer!"
"Welcome." Athena greeted both of you at the shooting range and on one of the monitors your statistics from last time appeared. "The usual setup, Agent?"
"No, Athena, thank you," you replied to the AI, looking at your training partner. "Standard, please."
"Of course." the pleasant voice of the program was heard over the training area. Life came into the little robots and they began to roam around, ignoring you.
"A special setup, huh?" McCree asked teasingly, and you waved aside, not wanting to tell him that you were planning on doing target practice at every opportunity.
"Let's see what you can do," you said, leaning against the wall behind you. You didn't mean to start, no. If the cowboy wanted to practice, then he should start!
"Hold this." To your great amazement you got the red poncho pressed into your arms and you looked at McCree, who in his tight black shirt pulled the gun out of the holster. On such hot days he didn't wear his bulletproof breastplate and the black shirt emphasized his muscular stature, letting you swallow briefly against your dry mouth. Damn sexy cowboy!
"You don't have to undress right away," you hissed angrily and although you wanted to sound as annoyed as possible, your voice was much higher than usual. A quick sideways glance from brown eyes silenced you and you watched his movements closely. He lifted his Peacekeeper up and you saw him narrow his eyes for a moment, finally emptying all six chambers in one seemingly single, flowing movement. Six robots collapsed, McCree tilted his head and made his neck crack slightly. You had seen his extraordinary ability Deadeye several times before and yet, it impressed you every time. You could call him a bad shooter as often as you wanted, Jesse McCree always hit his target. The drinking, smoking cowboy with the silly hat and spurs on his boots was an impressive man whether you liked it or not. But you certainly wouldn't rub that fact in his face!
"Your turn, beautiful." He threw his revolver at you and surprised you stumbled forward, the poncho in your arms and with noisiness you caught his gun. He nodded invitingly to the new group of robots that were just making their way in through one of the flaps to the workshop.
"It's way too heavy for me!" you growled and threw his poncho at McCree in return, and he put it aside, but shook his head at your statement.
"Nonsense." he replied, and just as you were putting new bullets into the chambers, he stepped behind you and looked over your shoulder. The smell of tobacco and the cowboy himself beguiled you for a fraction of a second and you took a step forward to escape from his immediate vicinity. "I'll show you."
Shocked, you flinched as you felt a cold hand on your left shoulder and his real, warm hand gripped your wrist to lift the revolver.
"You know I don't work with these bulky, heavy weapons," you muttered, concentrating all your efforts not to blush and keeping your pulse under control. He was much too close to you, you could feel his body heat and feel his breath on the sensitive skin of your neck.
"Doesn't mean you can't handle it, huh?" you heard the smoky voice in your ear and his upper body pressed against your back. He lifted your right arm a little, corrected the position of your shoulder a little, and finally leaned completely against you to secure your stance from the recoil. "Aim well over the rear sight, you have no sight here."
"I know...!", you hissed irritably and tried to concentrate on your target, but it was quite difficult to aim when hard muscles were pressing against your back.
"You're way too tense, why don't you relax your shoulders?"
"Shut up!" You pulled the trigger and wow! - this fucking heavy gun had a tremendous recoil! Your second shot even missed the target and a deep growl in your chest expressed your frustration about it. You rarely missed, but Peacekeeper was far too heavy for your untrained hands. Your weapons were all riffles like Soldier's:76, there was not such a powerful recoil as McCree's choice of weapon.
A third shot was fired and you were glad that his right hand stabilized your shoulder. Distracting or not, his upper body caught you and you didn't have to take an evasive step back.
"It's fun, isn't it?" you heard him ask and you almost looked up at him with an approving smile, but just in time you made the smile disappear and shrugged your shoulders. Stay cool.
"I have to admit, it's quite entertaining," you replied bored in a playful way, but he didn't buy it. McCree leaned down a little over your shoulder and the tips of his hair tickled your cheek. He was too close, it was way too close!
"Jesse!," you growled and turned from his grip instantly.
"Jesse?," he asked immediately, and the rough, dark laugh sent a pleasant goose bump down your neck. "You've never called me that before, dear."
"Yes, I- Ah...", you tried to find words and talk your way out, because the sexy cowboy was unfortunately right: You had never called him by his first name before, it just sounded too familiar and not hostile enough for your everyday dances. "Don't crowd me."
"What, you don't mind a little help with the shooting?" Again he came a step closer and you looked at him suspiciously, pressed the revolver into his hands and turned your head away, trying to rebuff him as hard as possible.
"Or was it for any other reason?" Jesse McCree was a charmer with a silver tongue, he always knew exactly what to say to either freak you out or leave you speechless. You were a seasoned Overwatch agent, a tough woman who could get her way - but when the cowboy got that close to you, your knees went soft like butter.
"Jesse McCree-!" you started a little rant. You took a step towards him and nudged his chest in anger, while he looked at you with just two amused sparkling eyes. "Are you suggesting that I'm really attracted to a complete idiot like you?"
He silenced you by leaning the last piece towards you, bending down and his right hand grabbing your neck. He kissed you, pulled you to him and after the first second of the shock you put your hands against his chest to push him away from you.
"Jesse-!," you shouted outraged, but he shook his head and nipped your protest in the bud with another kiss. That damned, tempting cowboy actually dared to kiss you just like that - and then he was so damn good at it, it was enough to drive you crazy! The stubble of his beard scratched slightly at your skin and you tasted the cold smoke of his cigars, but that hardly bothered you, because even if you deliberately denied it: you wanted Jesse McCree to kiss you. You wanted to feel his hand on your neck, how he pulled you a little closer to his upper body and that the kiss became more and more erratic and unstable with every second.
It wasn't until a faint gasp came over your lips that you realized what it all meant and you leaned back and escaped his lips.
"Sweet as honey..." he growled softly and in return he received a light slap on the shoulder from you. "What, it's true!"
"Idiot." you muttered and rolled your eyes. He snorted, pressed a kiss on the corner of your mouth and grabbed your waist with his left arm to pull you a little closer. You let it happen, and yet your thoughts turned over; What was there between you? What was the reason why he kept getting on your nerves so much?
"May I be your idiot then?" he asked, and he leaned down, kissed your neck, and his free hand played with a strand of your hair. Good question, did you agree inside. Was that it then? Was he your not so badly aiming, poncho-wearing idiot cowboy?
"Let's see how long I can stand you," you muttered with wildly pounding hearts and your stomach made a backward somersault at the thought that this show-off man seemed to like you very much.
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young genji pretty... so,, sort of angst?? genjis best friend , who has grew up with him since they were little kids, watches him go through all of these one-night stands. one night, genji and reader get into a little fight because reader is frustrated about him being a playboy, skip, skip, skip.. and then, in the middle of the fight, reader just says “fuck it. I love you.” and starts making out with him like it’s the end of the world. genji is surprised, but, kissie mwah mwah is returned 😳
Your arms crossed and despite the fact that your pistol was out in full view, nobody bothered to say anything.
They knew why you were there, who you worked for, who you were. But you weren’t focused on any of the people looking at you, some in disdain, some in fear, others in admiration (as you would never say out loud, but you were rather good-looking), your eyes were completely focused on the green-haired individual that had seemed to be losing a poker game.
He winks at the girl across from him, and she giggles before Genji puts his cards on the table, and everybody shouts out.
The woman’s face flushes, and you know fairly well what will happen next.
Genji had the woman bet he couldn’t get her in his bed, he bet her that if he won a game of poker then he would have her in his bed tonight.
The woman grins, and Genji pulls her from her seat. The two walk towards you, and you open the door for the two.
“Who’s this?” The woman asks, and you bite back a short-tempered reply because of her tone.
“A friend.” He replies, after a small hint of hesitation, you see his eyes flick onto you, looking you up and down.
The woman nods, and turns around, Genji then looks at you fully and makes a ‘v’ with his index, and middle finger, flicking his tongue between them.
You gag, mustering a laugh.
With that, Genji and the woman disappear down a nearby alleyway.
Your smile quickly turns to a frown, as your hands slowly drift back up to cross your arms.
However, it seems more like a self-hug than anything else.
You’re just a bodyguard, not by choice of course. It was more along the lines of this; Genji was your childhood friend, you managed to beat him at his favorite arcade game, and from there, he kept trying to beat you.
A friendly rivalry began, both of you not exactly knowing what that meant, as you were both twelve, and eventually, you two called a truce. From that point, Genji respected you, actually listened to you, you two were a power duo, it didn’t help that because of who he was, his brother had personally asked you to protect him.
Which explained the gun in your belt, embroidered with the twin dragons of the Shimada clan.
You shake your head, turning your head away. At this point, you couldn’t bear listening to the same thing over and over again.
Somebody else saying his damn name. Somebody else taking his clothes off, screw Sojiro, hell he could kill you publically, you didn’t care.
The gun is tossed onto the ground near the alleyway. Your hand's clench, and are hastily shoved into your pockets, as you march down the street, the voices slowly becoming nothing but car horns and other distance conversations.
A yawn escapes your mouth as the show on the tv in front of you skips to a commercial break. The blanket you wrapped in is warm, soothing almost, the snacks and drinks littered around you are mostly empty, minus a few candy wrappers and one-half drinken can of soda.
Your hand reaches for a candy bar, and you bite into it. Chocolate and peanut butter.
You know he won’t bother to look for you, he just expects you to be there the next night, and the next, and the night after that, but you’re done with that.
Time to be an actual teenager for once and not the bodyguard of some yakuza prince who can’t keep his dick in his pants.
Your eyes squint, and your jaw clenches as you grab the remote next to you and turn the tv off.
The room goes dark, for the most part. Your phone rings in your pocket, and you pick it up, squinting at the bright light.
You quickly decline the call.
It's 3 o’clock in the morning when you wake up again. You’re still wrapped in the heavy blanket, and the snacks and such are still littered around you, but you wonder why you woke up.
The house is quiet-
There’s a nudge at your foot.
You slowly get up, rubbing your eyes, and feeling a soft wind blowing on your face.
There’s a groan next to you, and quickly you burst upright, turning the light on.
You see the bright green light at the end of the bed, before you see the blood leading from your window and into the corner of the room.
Genji is crouched on the floor, grinning.
“Hey.” He says, before clenching his fists around the bloody wound on his side.
You get up from the bed. “The hell-”
“You know how to patch up a bullet wound, correct?”
“I’m friends with you, of course, I do.” You reply, shoving the wrappers and cans on your bed onto the ground before picking up Genji and placing him into the center of the bed.
“Don’t move.” You say, rushing down the hall.
You quickly go to the bathroom and grab the medical kit, as well as an ice pack.
You come to the room, placing these items next to you. You grab his wrist, pause for a moment, as he looks at you.
You loosen his belt.
“Oh wow~” He purrs.
“It’s connected to your shirt, you're just horny.” You ask, pulling the shirt open, and pushing it aside. “There’s a bullet in there?”
“No, just grazed me.”
“You said a bullet wound.”
“Wanted to see your face,” Genji says, his face falling onto the pillows. “It hurts.”
You frown, as you grab the disinfectant, quickly going to work on the wound.
“What happened?” You say as you toss the wipes and supplies into the trash can under your desk.
“The girl was apparently a police officer, she tried to shoot me, crazy bitch.” He says.
You roll your eyes.
He turns to you.
“Why did you leave?”
You press your lips together, lowering your eyebrows. “Something came up.”
“Like what?” He asks.
“Like what?” He asks again, more bite in his question.
Your back straightens.
“Don’t give me that fucking attitude, I just patched up your wound.” You snap, stabbing a finger towards him.
The medical kit slams shut.
“I wouldn’t have died.” He retorts.
“Then why didn’t you do it yourself?” You scolded.
“Hanzo would’ve yelled at me,” Genji mutters.
“Since when have you been afraid of your brother?”
“Since he became the official head of the clan.”
You pause, in all honesty, his fear is valid. As much as Sojiro ruled with an iron fist, Sojiro was kind, cared for others, Hanzo didn’t. Hanzo allowed his mind to be swayed by the clan elders far too often, something that the clan elders were taking advantage of, since Sojiro’s death nearly months ago.
You sigh, and walk down the hall, returning the kit to the bathroom.
You return to your bedroom.
“Alright, you can walk, go home.” You say.
Genji tilts his head. “Why?”
“What do you mean why?”
Genji looks you up and down. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”
Genji rolls his eyes. “Not sure, you tell me.”
You cross your arms, eyes narrowed.
“It's because you spend your time fucking the daylights out of people, and eating bad food instead of doing something fun?”
Genji glares. “This is fun.”
“It's not fun, watching you drag them off to bathroom stalls or alleyways to have semi-public sex with someone.” You snap. “Hell, have the time you do that, its supposed to be just you and me-!”
“So what? You’re jealous that you’re not getting enough attention?” He growls. “Need to treat you like those people I supposedly ‘drag off’?” He puts air-quotes around the ‘drag off’.
You clench your fists.
“I’m not jealous, it's stupid Genji! There’s better ways to cope than fuck every good looking person you see!”
“I don’t fuck every good-looking person I see, there’s still you.” He says.
Your face feels hot.
“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, you know that.”
Genji groans, and rolls his eyes, slowly getting off the bed.
“Whatever, I’m going home, thanks for fixing me up I guess.”
You blink harshly at him.
“The fuck do you mean you’re going home? We’re not finished here-”
“God you sound like my brother, I don’t listen to him, I’m not going to listen to you either.” He spat.
“So that’s it? You’re just going to go back out there and move onto somebody else?” You hiss. “You said it yourself, that girl was a damn police officer! That bullet barely grazed you, what will happen if you get shot?”
“You’ll be there to help me, obviously.”
“No, I won’t.”
He stares at you, face contorting.
“What?” He turns back to you. “Why not?”
“I’m sick of watching you go off and...and have these one-night stands! Just over and over and over again!” You cry. “It's not healthy, Genji!”
“You don’t get to decide what I do and don’t do!” He accuses.
You know you’ve hit a nerve based on the response.
“I never said that, I’m trying to help you damn it! It’s so frustrating, watching you do this shit! What the hell happened to you?”
Genji is silent for a moment, even he seems to be contemplating this.
His fists clench.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe its because my father died,” he says, turning away from you. “He was the only damn person who cared about me. My brother thinks I’m a disappointment to the family, tells me that every day too! You should see him!”
His hand runs through his hair.
“What the hell Genji, I care about you.” You scold.
“No you don’t. You said you didn’t when you left me in that alleyway.”
“I wasn’t going to listen to you having sex with a stranger again, Genji,” You fumed. “I may have been told by your father to protect you, but I’m done with this shit.”
You step towards him.
“I do care about you. Hell, I love you Genji, but I can’t do this anymore, I can’t watch you run off with these lovers that will only last an hour, knowing fairly well that I wished it was me,” A pause. “Every. Damn. Time.”
Genji is silent during this moment.
“You’re lying to me.”
“Yes, you fucking are.” He growls, turning around towards your window.
You narrow your gaze.
You grab the back of his shirt, and he falls into your chest.
He barely finishes his sentence before your arm wraps around his elbows and chest.
He looks up at you, and your lips slam onto his own, you ignore the pain from your neck.
Your eyes are clamped shut, but you feel his fingers linger over your arm.
You pull away first, and he escapes your grasp, turning to face you.
His face is flushed red, and you laugh at him. “What? Cat got your tongue?”
Genji scrunches his face up.
“Kiss me properly damn it.” He replies before you jump at you again for more.
“You’re not gonna cheat on me with somebody you find at the bar when I get boring?” You ask, teasingly kissing the corner of his mouth.
“If I do that, you have my permission to kill me.” He giggles.
The Arcana Masterlist (WIP)
Ask Box (Requests are open!)
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I think Zack would be genji or Hanzo like you said, genji because he's the naruto character of the game and he can't annoy everyone else by saying "mada mada" and "I need healing". I agree with the Billy ideas, I feel like he'd originally wanna be Reaper so him and Jason could match but he wasn't comfy with the whole idea of reaper and his past so he goes as Lućio or Orisa OR EFI OMG. If tommy was included and I love the idea of he/she being Native American then they'd be Pharah
omg you’re right, Zack would TOTALLY be genji. I picture him in the young Genji skin running around yelling “I need healing!” It almost makes me want to rethink to have Kimberly be a battle mercy just so she can tell him to shut up. And yeah, Billy would be Efi just for the inventor/techy portion, but I still like the idea of him being maybe a bastion or something because of the peaceful nature.
You know, I still don’t know what I would headcanon Tommy as. Part of me wants Tommy to be a girl, but like, the child in me still pictures the original Tommy with the ponytail and cheesy necklaces and I still think of a tall dude? I kind of head canon Tommy to be from Spain with hazel/green eyes to complement the fact that they’re the green ranger, but Native American Tommy is chill too!
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a halloween gency fic
rated: Teen and up
tags: gency, halloween au, witch mercy, swordsman genji, violence, blood, established relationship, romance, fluff, angst, death, flashbacks
a/n: A will-o-wisp, a witch, a gunslinger and an archer walk into a castle...
next | table of contents
A distant keening echoes through the cold castle corridors, or is it just Mercy’s internal voice leaping outside of her lips? She doesn’t take time to decipher the answer. Her mind is faster than her legs, already taking Genji’s body into her arms where she finally breathes out the incantation that heals the decay and restores his life.
She passes by a large room, perhaps fit for balls or where the lord sits on his throne and judges things he doesn’t truly understand. Thin glass windows between stone outlines give peeks outside of the battle between the wanders and her servants, and the stormy night with a peek of the moon. Mercy’s footsteps echo sharply on the hard floor. She runs, her skirt flowing along her legs and her hat barely containing her messy hair.
Broom staff in hand, Mercy opens doors, searching inside. Where would the lord keep bodies? There must be some infirmary to serve those within the castle and also handle their dead.
The lower levels are cold and dark. The deepest dungeons would keep rot at bay for a time. Genji’s body must be there.
Mercy has a small tentative hope. She flits down a small flight of stairs like a bird desperately flapping her wings to escape the confining walls of this castle.
Lena zips through the uppermost parts of the castle, phasing through doors and ransacking private quarters that don’t really look like they’d hold a corpse of her friend, but she won’t miss anything. Nope. Nothing up here. She blinks forward, passing through stone walls and wooden entrances as if they were as non-existent as herself.
Back down a large staircase, Lena drops into the same scene as before. The great hall. The stoney structure of walls and columns. The splintered and destroyed oak doors that once stood taller than possibility. She hopes the others are holding their own against the wanderers.
Lena runs, peeking back out onto the bridge and what remains of the castle doors. The old woman, the alchemist, must be the same one she knows, but she can’t stop and speak with her at the moment. A soldier looks familiar, and the gunslinger and archer are mysteries. Wait, where’s Mercy?
The pumpkin-headed shadow battles the soldier. Dr. Junkenstein, the Summoner, and his minions are swarming the alchemist, but Lena watches the gunslinger and archer creep through a small stone pathway inside of the castle. Arching her eyebrow, she zips once more. If Mercy is inside, she has to watch her back while she keeps looking for Genji’s body.
Silent as a road at midnight, Lena follows the pair as they enter the castle and make their way to a small door hiding a staircase going into the bowels of the structure. Could they already know where Mercy is or are they seeking something else entirely?
She watches them reach the bottom floor, a cold and musty smelling room that makes Lena wrinkle her nose. The archer goes forward through another pair of heavy doors that seem better suited for a dungeon—wait, it is the entrance to the dungeon!
The gunslinger stays before the heavy iron gates, casually leaning against the wall with one foot pressed back against it. He retrieves a cigar from underneath his dark cloak. He sets it on his lips then lights it. She can sense that he’s seen things and isn’t quite entirely in the present. Lena can feel a heaviness to his body, a ghost from a time long ago that won’t go to sleep and leave the man alone. Lena watches from the in-between, a place she doesn’t quite live in but isn’t quite dead in either. She plots how to get around this one when he puffs a heavy cloud of white and looks up from underneath the brim of his hat to pierce right through her incorporeal body.
He knows she’s here. So much for sneaking past. Lena steps into the room, bypassing the stairs entirely, but her ghostly effect is of very little concern to the gunslinger.
“You seem a man haunted by the past,” she chirps, still striding forward.
“How could you tell?” he asks, drawing it out in a funny accent.
“Haunting is something of a specialty of mine!” she beams proudly. She stops. Although their exchange so far has been friendly, the dread of a swift ending surrounds Lena as she eyes the gunslinger and his strange prosthetic arm. What happened?
“Pardon me, but I can’t let you take a step further.” The gunslinger stands. His hand falls to his weapon, confident of its effect even on a spirit. Lena shakes her head pleadingly.
“You don’t understand,” she tries, slowly approaching the doors still. “You think the Witch of the Wilds is here to cause harm, but she only wants the body of her love back.”
“The dead need to be left to rest,” he says calmly.
Lena resists huffing in irritation, but she doesn’t know if Mercy is down here or how long she has to find Genji’s body. She has to see her friend breathe again. He doesn’t deserve a death like this, alone and locked away in a cold stone dungeon.
“Some can’t,” Lean says softly, placing a hand against the ghoulish pumpkin harness keeping her steady—for the moment. “Some still have things left to do, and that’s the witch’s love. Move out of the way, please.”
The gunslinger looks down as if once again doing things he doesn’t want to do, but must.
“I don’t like shooting a lady, but I’ve got a job to do, so if you’d kindly—”
Lena zips past him in a green blur, but just as she is about to phase through the dungeon doors, a flashbang blinds her, stunning even her ghostly presence. She groans and feels a sharp kick underneath her legs, tumbling to the floor.
She can hear the echo of voices, far away, but alive within. There was the archer… who did he find?
She has no time to find the answer. She barely misses a shot from the gunslinger and pulls out her own weapons, two pistols firing away at the gunslinger as he ducks and rolls.
Lena really hopes Mercy isn’t in the castle yet.
In the belly of the castle, Mercy wanders through musty odors and cold stone walls which digs into her bone and creeps into her muscles. The iron cages are dark and foreboding, pressing terrible images into her mind of Genji curled on the ground, attempting to keep warm. How long was he held here? Does he lie here now as a stiff body with coagulated blood?
Mercy hurries through the countless corridors, breathlessly peeking through every barred cell and dim passageway. Even this place is abandoned and that hopelessness claws at her chest, raking for the last of her burning flame. She clings tightly to it. The last bridge to connect her and Genji.
Footsteps quietly vertebrate off the walls as she nears a corner in the long hallway. Mercy lifts her broom staff defensively, stopping dead at another’s approach. A man leaps into the hallway drawing an arrow back with a taut bowstring, his gaze piercing her before the arrowhead can. His attire is blue, draping over one shoulder and revealing an intricate tattoo of dragons snaking down his left arm which drags her by the heart, beating her with an impossible question.
“My duty to the lord comes to its culmination, and will be done after you take your last breath, witch.” His eyes narrow. His fingers are poised and begin to loosen, but his voice, even his accent, echoes with fragments of Genji.
“You believe your brother is dead, archer…” Mercy whispers, lowering her staff with the memory of his breath against her ear as they slept, “but he lived.”
“Don’t speak of him!” the archer thunders. His rage spills down his features, coating his tongue and teeth in fury. “Your dark magic will twist everything, but I won’t let you.”
He again moves to free the arrow, but Mercy stands tall but weak. She stares at his face, the shape of his eyebrows and dark hair tied back in a ponytail. How could this not be the same man Genji told her of? The one who deemed him dishonorable. The one who nearly killed him—who so nearly succeeded.
“You don’t know what body you guard for the lord,” Mercy says, fingers gripping her broom staff tightly.
“That’s not needed for me to complete my task.” The archer remains still. He eyes her sharply as if cutting away her skin to find what really lies beneath. Somehow, some part of him knows she is speaking of greater things.
“That man,” Mercy has to stop for a moment to keep her voice from cracking, “is the person I love. He is also your brother, Hanzo.”
His eyes widen. The rich brown color of his irises becomes sharper as he snarls.
“Your tricks are nothing to me, witch!”
She steps forward, determined and burning, burning with anger and grief and guilt. A hidden sense tells her she’s drawing near. No one will stand in her way, especially Genji’s would-be-murderer brother.
“He loves the ocean, it reminds him of home,” Mercy says.
Hanzo retightens his grip but doesn’t pull back and let go of the arrow. Uncertainty takes a hold of him. As Mercy takes one more step closer, it digs its claws into his soul.
“There are cherry blossoms in the spring.”
“No…” he breathes almost silently, his eyes flickering between disbelief and boiling self-loathing and deep anguish.
“He misspent his youth, but he didn’t deserve to be reprimanded with a sword,” Mercy lifts her voice with contempt. There is more before her than a ghost from her lover’s past. He has the face of everyone who threw rocks at her and Genji, who claimed their ways are undeniably wicked, that their love was a seduction of magic and servitude, not choice and adoration. He is the lord of the castle. He has every expression of the wanderers that stood outside the doors and kept her and her allies from entering.
She stands before him with her chest open for his cruel weapon, but the archer stares back at her, frozen. Her stare burrows into him, daring him to release the fletching.
“Stop me now,” she says, “because I won’t wait for a second more to reach him and bring him back.”
A long quiet grows. Her heart is a frightened bird fluttering but she looks into the eyes of the one who cut Genji the deepest. If there is a fire that he sees within or the darker magic that they all believe, Mercy can’t say, but the archer doesn't fire. He remains a statue which preserves his greatest regret.
“You believe your brother is dead… but he will live again,” Mercy vows quietly.
He lowers his arms, shaken and stunned. She walks past his bow and arrow and around the corridor, deeper still into the dungeon. Genji’s near. She can sense him like a flower detecting spring after a hard winter. She forgets the encounter of his brother and races down the cold stones, her footsteps echoing sharply.
Genji breathes in, foggy in half-awareness, but he feels impressions of Angela’s warm body snuggled against his chest. Her legs hooked around his as if securing him to this place in the bed he’s grown to call theirs.
Peeking between his eyelashes, he sees her. Her hair is tousled, tuffs of white-blonde strands fall across her eyes as her cheek sinks into the pillow. Genji smiles. Lifting his hand from her waist, he brushes back her hair. She stirs, inhaling softly as Genji watches her brow crinkle and smooth out.
Her hands hold him. Her steady palms lay over his heart, cupping his pulse and containing his flighty thoughts. He remembers her kisses, her slow insistence to reveal his scarred body, and still lay with him under the sheets. He has been with women, but he has never loved someone, nor been loved, as she loved him last night.
There is a place inside of him that has been wounded. Perhaps it always bleeds a little, but his brother’s sword tore it open, banishing him to a place of marred appearances and relentless anger. His master, Zenyatta, placed stitches on the worst of it, but that only kept him together.
Angela. His Angela. She heals what she can’t see. Her hands recover what was almost too far gone.
Genji wants, no, needs to be with her. He is with her right now, and somehow, he wants her more and more, every morning and every night. He is hers, entirely, forcefully, and utterly. He’ll burst with the declaration.
“Stay here with me,” he whispers, begs.
In her not quite alert state, Angela sighs softly before opening her eyes. She gives a small smile as she arches a delicate eyebrow.
“I am, and I will,” she says quietly.
She kisses his mouth and silences all of his darker parts. He breathes in her scent of herbal medicines and honeysuckle. His Angela.
He holds onto her, and in the deepest values of his heart, he prays she never lets go of him.
Even lower steps take Mercy down to a long, narrow passageway. Dirt packs in the ground here, smelling of earth and the surrounding stone. A fear of descending to the darkest pits of hell enters her mind. Her heart races with her to the end, which opens into a frozen but sizable room. In one corner of the low ceiling, a hatch is sealed. The room sits empty and plain except for a low set wooden table, holding a cold corpse in the very center. Underneath the table, wood and chips wait to be ignited for a funeral pyre.
On light footsteps, she flies to his body. The scent of decay is beginning to fester and the dimness is haunting, but Mercy only sees his black hair through the blurriness of tears in her ears. She misses a tall figure standing in the corner near the entrance like a stone shadow, hands steepled.
He lies, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes are closed. Dirty and tears cover his clothes. What did they do to him? How much cruelty did they treat him with? She suppresses a sob as she looks into his ghostly pale face. Dark bruises stain his neck. She can’t think of the hangman’s rope which snapped the life from his body. She tentatively lays her hand on his cheek. The coldness shocks her but she holds fast.
She inhales sharply, combatting the thickness in her throat as she draws from the hook on her belt, hidden by the cloth of her skirt. Genji’s scarf. Her fingers briefly touch the center of her corset, hyper-aware of the sparrowhawk feather resting against her heart. Softly, she lays the worn cloth around his throat as if to keep his cold body warm, but she only returns it. It does well to cover the marks of death on the cords of his neck.
“Genji,” she murmurs. A rebellious teardrop splatters on the dark oak of the table, but Mercy is already lifting her broom staff. The amount of magic and energy this healing and then reviving will take will be the most she’s ever paid, but she gladly readies to.
She stills for a moment as yellow particles stir at the end of her broom staff. The nested fears of Genji being too far gone or worse, refusing to answer her call to come back to his body, hatch and live within her as personal devils.
Is she too late?
Mercy lifts her head and steadies her hands. From her lips, she breathes out an incantation of healing and renewal. The space within her heart that has stretched and torn with grief and guilt over the last few days now empties and slowly fills with the hope of seeing the sepia color of his eyes—
A sharp pain seeps into her backside, sapping her strength. Mercy gasps as she whirls around to face the attacker. A force, purple and vile, latches onto Mercy and drags her down to her knees. Each breath is a struggle while she feels blackness crowd the edges of her vision.
“What… Who?” Mercy gasps.
From the shadowy corner of the dim room, a tall figure of purple ghoulish skin and strange white markings appears. A banshee. Her right hand is held out in a claw-tipped grip. A violet tendril snakes out from her palm and forces Mercy’s to struggle further against the weakening spell. Her failure to rise makes her cry out. The banshee’s expression is of pure fascination and satisfaction.
“I was curious if you’d breach the castle doors,” she speaks in a cool, analytical tone, “but you didn't keep me waiting for long.”
“Moira...” Mercy drops her broom staff to hold herself up off of the stone ground, but her limbs grow weaker. Grunting in pain as the terrible magic of the banshee continues dragging her life out of her, she can’t do anything, much less look up at the one responsible for this all. Everything comes together as a cold terror within Mercy’s bones. She ran off the banshee from the village a long time ago, and she believed she stayed away all this time.
“The villagers... They said they heard kneeling and people dying soon after. They blamed me. They took Genji… but it was you.” Mercy finally turns her face up to the smug and thin smile on Moira.
“Yes, but those guinea pigs are none the wiser.” She clenches her fist tighter. Mercy cries out as the suction increases. “The lord of the castle’s raven carried a peculiar message. I was curious about what efforts you would go to for him.”
Moira jerks her chin towards Genji’s body.
“Stop… Please,” Mercy writhes on the ground, forced on her hands and knees. Trembling in pain, she looks up to the edge of the table, and the shape of her love. “I can revive him.”
“I know,” the banshee flickers her gaze to the corpse, uninterested. “You have the power to do many things, including destroying everyone that stands in your way, but you squander your magic and bid these lowly creatures pardons. How droll.”
She cackles. The banshee’s magic drags Mercy further down. Her vision begins to blacken. She tries to reach for her broom but it’s fallen out of reach. Crumpling inwardly, Mercy collapses. Her cheek slaps down on the cold dirt floor. She remembers falling asleep among the ashes of their home, crying, blackening with anguish because Genji wasn’t anywhere to be found.
Here he is. His body is waiting for her magic touch. She can’t give it. She tries to rise, to reach out, and touch his hand, but the darkness swarms her eyesight and the last of her strength is dragged out by the banshee. The Witch of the Wilds falls inches away from Genji’s body and her consciousness disappears into pure blackness.
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This was supposed to be a simple mission. Come onto an abandoned space station and commandeer it. It was a spooky place that had definitely seen better days. For the past few days, you and the rest of the Overwatch crew who were able to come ran around fixing odds and ends on the station to get it to a habitable level.
But strange things had begun to happen. Lights going out at odd times. Sudden oxygen depletion. It had gotten to the point that you all had no choice but to wear your suits at all times, unsure when you’d all be thrown into a life-threatening situation or sucked into the cold vacuum of space.
Then the first body appeared: Zenyatta.
Winston was on cameras when it happened. A humanoid shadow off screen sliced Zenyatta in half, destroying his processor. It was precise and quick. By the time Winston had called an emergency meeting, the perpetrator was nowhere to be found.
It made everyone uneasy. Genji was understandably upset, threatening to unmask everyone in vengeance. It was Hanzo, surprisingly, who talked him down from it. It didn’t keep Genji from retaining his promise: anyone suspected of being the killer will be felled by his sword.
But it set the stage for your daily meetings now.
Everyone had to account for themselves and others. No one could trust the other. Winston’s vague description of ‘someone in a suit’ could have been any of them. As much as no one wanted to believe it, they could only suspect themselves--there was no one else with them, was there?
There was too much to do to travel in large groups. In the end, everyone was assigned pairs. If anyone got hurt, the other could signal or provide assistance. There is safety in numbers.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“I hope so.”
You checked your holotablet for tasks. They didn’t look very different from the previous day’s.
“I’ll be right outside.”
He nodded at you before pulling the curtain.
The isolation, though thin, made your skin prickle. If something happened to Genji, you don’t know how you’d face Hanzo. He was a scary guy on a normal day, but you didn’t want to see him mad.
As quick as you could, you stripped off the suit and stepped onto the scanner.
Once a week, everyone had to do a scan in the medbay to send data back to Earth. Athena and Angela monitored everyone’s health from one of the Watchpoints back home and sent back recommendations. Zenyatta was supposed to receive them, but now…
You pressed a button and the scanner came to life. The worst part about doing this was the waiting. The quiet hum only made the silence stretch into anxiousness. It’s only when the beep came that you could feel relief.
You yanked on your suit, nearly tearing it in your haste. It’s dangerous to leave yourself exposed for so long. If it weren’t protecting you from the elements and potential catastrophic reactor meltdowns, you’d keep it off--it just weights down your limbs and feels too constricting, more so than necessary.
“All done?” came Genji’s voice from the other side.
You pulled back the curtains, managing a relieved smile at the sight of Genji and his bright green suit. “Yeah. Your turn.”
“I did mine two days ago,” he said, waving you off. “Where to next?”
“I, uh.” You pulled out your holotablet, but in that instant, the lights went out. You took a step back and bumped into something not hard enough to be a wall. Fear nested in your throat. “Ge-Genji?”
“I’m here.” Even through the suits, you could feel the rumble of his voice. “Don’t worry. I’m here.”
Unconsciously, you smiled. That’s right. Genji, for all the jokes and his whimsical nature, was a reliable person. He would definitely protect you.
“Should we go check the breakers and fix the lights?” you suggested, putting the holotablet away.
“The others are likely closer. It is safer here.”
You felt him shift behind you and then the sound of a sword unsheathing. The sound made your stomach clench unpleasantly. Fear began to filter into your veins. What if Genji was the person--what if Genji killed Zenyatta--what if he did it and acted angry so no one would suspect him?
The speculation made you dizzy.
“Be still,” he said. He held his katana in front of you, the faint green glow of his katana granted you both some extra visibility. It only made the visuals through your mask more frightening. Everything was cast in an eerie light. “I will protect you.”
Just those words were enough to calm the nervous beating of your heart. Right. Genji couldn’t possibly be the killer or whatever was in this place. You could trust him, you assured yourself. You kept that line of thinking up even after the lights returned.
As soon as they do, the signal for an emergency meeting goes off.
At this rate, you’ll never get your tasks done.
Exchanging a sheepish look, you and Genji made your way into the meeting room.
Two by two, everyone came filing in, the colored spacesuits adding life to the dreary room. Cyan and Blue--Mei and Hanzo. Red and Gray--McCree and Fareeha. Yourself and Genji. Black, Orange, and White--Winston, Torbjorn, and Soldier: 76 are already in the room.
You breathed a sigh of relief seeing everyone accounted for. Every time the call for an emergency meeting went off, you feared the worst. Everyone else must have been thinking the same. Mei held a hand to her chest, visibly breathing out a sigh of relief upon counting all the members.
“So, what’re we in for?” McCree asked.
“Head count,” Torbjorn offered gruffly. “Makin’ sure you all still got ‘em.”
Soldier waved him off and pressed his hands against the table. “Where was everyone when the lights went off?” He pointed at McCree and Fareeha. “Report.”
“We were both takin’ care of the trash.”
And though Fareeha may not have said it loud enough to hear, her voice still came through the mic sets, “And there was a shit-ton of it.”
Ignoring that, Soldier then pointed at you and Genji.
"I was doing the medbay scan," you said. “Lights went out as soon as I finished.”
Genji nodded. "I can confirm, I was there."
With your alibi established, they moved onto the next person until all alibis were heard. Everyone's worried expressions visible through the small window of their suits. You were, too.
Winston raised his hand as though to adjust his glasses, but bumped into his helmet instead. He gave a little laugh before he cleared his throat. “Right. With that out of the way, we have some new information. It appears to be some sort of lifeform that is able to, ah, control people.”
Blue’s head--Hanzo--snapped up. “Control people? How?”
“We don’t know. There is simply not enough information to determine whether this life form kills and takes over the body, in essence, replacing them, or if it is simply controlling our bodies and leaving the victim alive.”
Mei put both hands over her helmet where her mouth would be. “Does that mean the person might not even know they’re the killer?”
“It’s quite possible. But again,” Winston rushed to say before the clamor in the room could reach unrestrainable levels, “we simply do not have enough information to work off of. We are still not dismissing the possibility of an outsider. And absurd as it may sound, maybe even a shapeshifter.”
The last part fizzled out as though the communicator didn’t want to relay such a nonsensical theory. But it would be entirely possible. In that case, no one would know who to trust.
“We again recommend keeping your partner in your sights at all times, if possible. Notify the rest if you suspect anything suspicious. You are all dismissed. Please continue with your tasks.”
There was some hesitation before the groups dispersed, everyone whispering to each other. You and Genji were no different.
As you did your tasks, you both pondered the nature of whatever it was you were facing. A shapeshifter? A doppleganger? A parasitic creature? Whatever it was, Genji swore to put it at the end of his blade.
By the time you were done with your tasks, it was ‘night’. Even with Genji helping, there were just too many things to be done in the station. It’s a given considering just how long it has been abandoned, but you really didn’t expect this much work out of it.
Even Genji requested for a short break.
“I’ll get us some tea,” you offered. The cafeteria was just a short ways away from your rooms anyway. You’re sure nothing will happen in the meantime.
“Thank you.” The fact that Genji didn’t even try to offer to come with you only gave away just how exhausted he must be. With the death of his master and now being suspicious of everyone on the space station, you couldn’t even imagine.
The cafeteria was huge and so very empty. Dying here would probably be the worst way to go. If you couldn’t find the perpetrator, were you all going to die in space where no one could hear you scream or mourn your death? Where you’d have to be thrown out into the empty embrace of space without ever returning home?
You shook yourself free of the oncoming existential crisis, grabbing two mugs and some stale teabags from the cabinets. You had to focus on the tasks at hand. Tasks make the day go by faster. And the faster the days went by, the faster you could all get the hell off this space station and go home where you didn’t have to suspect your fellow teammates of being shapeshifting, human-eating aliens—
You shouted, nearly jumping out of your skin. You spun around and there was Gray--Fareeha. Your eyes darted back and forth. When did she sneak up on you?
“Fareeha! Um. What brings you here?”
“Where’s your partner?” she asked suspiciously, crossing her arms. Her tone immediately sent goosebumps up and down your skin.
“He wasn’t feeling all himself, so he’s resting. I’m making him tea,” you said quickly.
“You’re not supposed to move without each other.”
“I know, I just thought--you know, we’re just across the hall.”
She sighed in exasperation. “I can’t believe you. I’m coming with you until you have your partner back. Safety in numbers, right?”
You smile weakly. “Right.”
She waited patiently for you to finish making the tea and then nodded at the doorway even though no one was there. “Jesse. Let’s go.”
From behind the wall, McCree came out and gave you the tip of a phantom hat. “Escort mission, eh?”
“Howdy. Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” He bowed dramatically at you, sweeping his hands at the door. “After you.”
Even in such tense situations, he hasn’t lost his flair. You couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks.”
No sooner did the three of you step outside the room did the lights go out.
Fareeha growled. “Again!?”
“Guess we gotta go fix the lights.”
Someone--probably Fareeha--grabbed your wrist. “Wha—?”
“Gotta go fix the lights first. Then we bring you back to your partner.”
You could only follow whoever was pulling at your hand, unable to see more than just a few inches beyond your helmet. You don’t even know where you’re going or how they’d know where they were going for that matter.
But eventually, the grip on your hand disappeared. The sounds of footsteps faded away. In fact, everything faded away. No lights, no sound. Nothing. It was as though the vacuum of space was condensed onto your being, reality slipping away from you in inches.
The sound of a buzzer snapped you back into reality like a bubble popping. The lights were back on. You were standing in front of Genji’s room, on the other side of the cafeteria where you exited with your cups of tea. You looked around. How did you get here? Odd. You felt odd. You felt...full. Satisfied?
A voice--Soldier’s voice--crackled in your suit’s headset, choked up and reluctant.
“Dead body found. It’s...Fareeha.”
In case it’s not incredibly clear, which it isn’t, you’re the imposter and Genji isn’t. I’ve also only played the game a handful of times and watched a dozen youtube videos on it.
Originally it was supposed to be revealed that it’s Reaper who is controlling you ala symbiote-style. If I included it, I thought it would end up being a multi-chaptered thing and I wasn’t ready for that. But to tie up loose ends, Reaper was turning off the lights via your tablet without you noticing. Genji is sus of you. Everyone is sus of Genji. You were able to do the medbay scan because Reaper was in your suit which you took off.
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brought to you by my hyper fixations
So the other day I was talking to a friend about Widofjord (a ship from critical role between a half-orc fjord and a human Caleb) and while talking I happened across some Mchanzo (a ship from overwatch between Hanzo and McCree) fanart and got deja vu. After thinking on it for a little bit I realized that the same appeal I saw in Mchanzo was in Widofjord not all of it but enough for me to write out a chart.
Before I begin SPOILER WARNING! I’m gonna be talking about critical role and the backstories of some of the characters from campaign 2 if you haven’t seen it I highly recommend its a great show I love it, I’m also talking about Overwatch lore (a lot less) so if you don’t know hanzo’s past you should watch the dragon short for context.
Note- neither one of these ships is canon and in the case of Mchanzo there are very few interactions between them.
Lets start with the similarities
1. Hanzo and Caleb both hate themselves, both of them have done horrible things in their past that causes them to have very low (nonexistent) opinion of themselves.
2. Caleb and Hanzo were both trained to be assassins (Hanzo by his family clan and Caleb by Trent Ikkithon)
3. Both ships have friendly banter on their interactions. In the case of Mchanzo they have only a few voice line conversations but none of them are angry ex- McCree: You know, that sake's not half bad but... I prefer a little bite to my liquor. Hanzo: How predictable! Such an unsophisticated taste. Now with Fjord and Caleb they have had multiple moments of light affectionate banter (seriously watch critical role these two are adorable)
4. Fjord and McCree both having a father figure in a commanding officer, for McCree this is a little more blurry because Overwatch lore is nonexistent and we don’t fully know if the relationship between him and Reyes (reaper) was like father and son. Fjord on the other hand has made it clear that his old captain Vandran was like a father to him.
5. Hanzo attempted to murder his younger brother Genji (it failed but he did live ten years afterwards thinking he had succeeded) because of the manipulations of his clan, Caleb did kill both of his parents after being manipulated by his academy teacher into thinking they were traitors to their country.
6. Fjord has a pirate atheistic(and a Cowboy one at the beginning at the campaign), McCree has a cowboy atheistic they might not be the exact same but it does show how extra both of them are.
7. Though their pasts are a bit different (more on that later) McCree and Fjord are both trying to move forward from a couple wrongdoings. McCree was part of a black ops group that made some shady choices while Fjord almost released a spoiled demi god that would have fucked over the world so they both have some shit to work through.
8. this one kinda annoys me but people have a habit of assuming McCree and Fjord are idiots (in their respective universes) when neither one is.
9.Both Hanzo and Caleb are great long range attackers (Hanzo with his bow and Caleb with his spells) but are very fragile and squishy short range.
10. Hanzo has two spirits that are summoned when he uses his special attack, Caleb has a fey cat he summons for comfort and recon missions.
Both ships have a lot in common and I’m sure there are a couple more things I could have mentioned but I think this includes all the big things. Now onto their differences.
1. lets get the biggest ones out of the way the medium these two ships exist are very different, one is a mmo shooter game with only voice lines and the odd short to tell a story through so the only Mchanzo interacts happen with their voices. Looking through all the Overwatch events there’s a good amount of them talking but nothing else to draw from. Meanwhile Critical Role is a group of nerdy ass voice actors playing dnd and telling a story with their characters, interactions between Fjord and Caleb are plentiful and awesome to see along with all the other characters but that means we have way more info about them to compare.
2. McCree had a criminal past of being in the deadlock gang before joining Blackwatch that does affect him as a character, but Fjord’s past was the opposite completely boring (not a bad thing with how he is it would have been weird and not made sense if he had a complicated backstory) working on a ship.
3. Early in the Mighty Nein Campaign Fjord threatened Caleb with a sword to the neck if Caleb didn’t put back a scroll he wanted to take while escaping from a house they broke into, this has affected their friendship and been brought up a couple times months later. With what lore we do have for Overwatch McCree has not threatened Hanzo.
4. this one might seem a bit strange to include but it’s a major difference to me. In Blackwatch McCree actually worked alongside a recently almost killed Genji, I don’t know how friendly their relationship might have been but there’s a good chance McCree heard some version of how Hanzo tried to kill Genji. Fjord Has had to learn Caleb’s backstory from Caleb himself and he still doesn’t know the full story (not even after 103 episodes lol)
5.Redemption and the possibility of it is a big thing in both Hanzo and Caleb’s backstories and current actions but is different for each one. Hanzo did something horrible but he has a chance for complete (or almost complete) redemption for his actions as long as he works with and towards making it up to genji, except he doesn’t take it in his interactions with Genji in game he’s hostile, angry, and in denial (in the dragons short hes pretty much the same). Caleb on the other hand has a chance for partial redemption (there’s no way for him to bring his parents back without fucking up everything else but he can work towards stopping other kids from being hurt) and he is working towards it. Its worth mentioning that before learning that Genji is still alive Hanzo had his own way of earning redemption (and I think he did believe he could earn it) but Caleb has said multiple times he doesn’t deserve it and it’s impossible for him until recent arcs. I also don’t think one is better than the other they’re just different ways they’re reacting to possible redemption.
at the end of the day I love both of these ships and all the characters involved, they both have potential for angst and fluffy romantic shit. I’m happy to get this out of my system it was fun thinking about it but I have way too many thoughts to look at to keep thinking about this. check out critical role campaign 2 if you have free time or need something to play in the background while ya work and I’m gonna hope for more McCree/Hanzo interactions in Overwatch 2 goodnight!
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Day Twenty-Seven: Alt Prompt, Found Family
Day Twenty-Seven: Alt Prompt, Found Family
Hanzo has been alone for a long time, but that’s no longer the case
This is set in between Presumed Dead and Lost :)
Grief was not an emotion Hanzo dealt well with.
When he was living with his clan, grief was not an emotion that was allowed to be shown.
When he had killed Genji, he was expected to be stoic, cold and reserved about his accomplishment, as the clan had called it.
It had been a day after Genji died that Hanzo had allowed himself to break down, his grief consuming him.
There had been no one to console him, but that was a blessing in disguise. If anyone had of found him in that state, there would have been hell to pay.
So he wallowed in his sorrow alone.
Wishing that he could take back his heinous actions.
Wishing it was his life instead of his brother's.
It was the same this time around.
Hanzo felt like he was drowning.
The crushing weight on his chest caused by the knowledge that Jesse was never coming home.
If he had of known the mission Jesse had gone would have been his last, Hanzo would have done anything to stop the cowboy from leaving.
But it was too late.
Jesse was gone.
Hanzo was alone.
Maybe he deserved to be this way.
Either way, Jesse didn't deserve to die.
He was a good man, he did good things.
Despite his past, he tried his very best to make up for the things he had done.
Hanzo couldn't compare to his shining example.
He was lucky to have him for what little time he had.
Their room was so quiet without him, Hanzo was still refusing to sleep in it despite the "accident" being over a month ago.
The bed was too cold, it was not the same.
It didn't feel right.
So Hanzo took up residence in his old bedroom which had been turned into a spare for temporary agents on the base.
He spent most of his time there, only leaving late at night to get some food every few days
Seeing his teammates was out of the question, he didn't want to burden them with his misery.
That and he was afraid of their reactions to his grief.
If they were anything like the elders of the clan, he'd much rather stay isolated.
That was until he didn't have a choice.
Hearing a knock at the door wasn't uncommon, Genji was a frequent visitor as he didn't want his brother wasting away in the darkness of his room. He was also the only one who wouldn't listen to Hanzo when his brother told him to leave.
Hanzo didn't respond like normal as Genji would let himself in.
Genji walked in and silently sat down next to his brother just as he always did.
He didn't expect Hanzo to talk, he rarely did these days, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try.
"Angela is worried about you, she hasn't seen you in a while and would like to do a checkup," Genji said gently.
Of course, she was worried, Angela never stopped worrying about him and his health.
"I am fine" Hanzo's voice was gravelly from lack of use, maybe also a lack of water
"You know that isn't true, Hanzo. I don't expect you to get over McCree, he was a big part of your life, but I know he would not want you living this way" Hanzo's face scrunched up at the mention of Jesse's wishes.
"What does it matter, he isn't... he isn't here anymore" It hurt to say so, but it was the truth.
Genji sighed as he placed a hand on Hanzo's shoulder.
"Please brother, just this one thing and I promise I won't push you anymore" Genji pleaded. Hanzo was suffering physically and it was clear to see, dark circles under his eyes, his skin seemed tighter around his face and his hair and facial hair was a mess.
Hanzo seemed to think about it for a few moments before giving in with a nod, making a smile appear on Genji's face.
"Good. Come on, she's waiting for you" The two got up off the floor and began heading to the med bay.
Angela was waiting for them, the moment they walked through the door she was by Hanzo's side.
"Meine Güte, he's worse then I expected" Angela mumbled as she began to look Hanzo over.
"Angela I am fi-" The doctor's glare made the words die in his throat
"You are far from it" A sigh left her before she steeled herself "Now, what you are going to do for me is go take a shower, I will get you something to eat and you will let me look you over, alright?" There was no point in arguing with her, so Hanzo nodded and headed off to the shower that was connected to the med bay, leaving his brother and Angela behind.
Once Hanzo was out of earshot, Genji all but deflated into one of the chairs with Mercy following suite.
"He's struggling Genji, we all know this" Angela said gently as she took hold of one of Genji's hands
"I know... I just wish I could make it better for him, I've never seen him like this" Angela frowned and gave Genji a sad smile, placing her head against his shoulder.
"I know Liebe, grief is different for everyone, we can only be there for him when he needs it" Genji nodded and placed his head atop of Angela's.
Only time would tell if Hanzo was okay.
Hanzo had to admit, he did feel a little better after showering and eating something other than a few crackers and the odd apple.
Now was the part where Angela told him all the things that were wrong with him.
He was sat on one of the benches as Angela ran a few tests over him. Listening to his heartbeat, testing his reflexes and such.
"Now, how much sleep are you getting?" Hanzo frowned as he pondered, when was the last time he got a full nights rest?
"I am not sure, a few hours per night if I am lucky" Angela nodded and wrote down his answer on her tablet.
"What about water, you seem rather dehydrated" She continued
"No, no I am not drinking much" To say he felt embarrassed was an understatement at this point.
Angela nodded and wrote down a few more things before turning back to him, a gentle hand on his knee.
"Hanzo, I care about you. You are my family, whether you like it or not and I hate seeing you like this. If I may, I'd like to keep you in here for a little while. Put you on an IV for some fluids and let you rest, but if you do not wish to I will not force you" She explained, hoping for a positive answer.
That was a foreign word to Hanzo.
His last "family" groomed him from birth and forced him to murder his younger sibling.
The word normally left a bad taste in his mouth.
But this time it felt different.
It felt safe and comforting.
Like he could be vulnerable and not be taken advantage of.
The thought of that brought some emotion up, but he quickly covered it up with a cough.
"I would like that" This brought a smile to the doctor's face.
"Wonderful. Come, let's get you to bed"
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Pairing: Zenyatta/Genji (Reverse AU)
Warnings: costume play, spanking, dirty talk, light angst
Notes: I’ve been sitting on this for almost a year, and I’m not sure if there’s anyone who’s still into the Reverse AU, but finally here’s my contribution.
Genji hasn’t felt like this in years.
He works late to stave it off, schedules more meetings, performs tasks he could easily delegate, anything to keep his mind racing. A decade ago, it was to stop the twitch, the chill of a dead man’s eyes on his nape. (Genji still has the ribbon, carefully folded in his nightstand, immaculate if not for the flecks of crimson. He doesn’t know if the blood is his or Hanzo’s.)
But the situation is better than it was then. The dead man isn’t so dead (even if he is confined to a shell of carbon fiber), and Genji has outlets. Ryū ichimonji bright with enemy blood. Warm, smooth hands bruising each hip, claws raising angry lines along his skin. A soft, demanding voice reducing him to a mindless, swearing mess. Genji scales his balcony at night, sometimes greeted by dark windows and a locked door, other times by an angry, loathsome omnic that would rather use him than kiss him, and hell, if that wasn’t what Genji wanted more often than not.
But Zenyatta can’t be his biggest distraction. He’s not always there: meetings, press conferences, deals on the other side of the globe. Family too, perhaps. His brother. Zenyatta talks of him little, but each mention reverberates like a bell.
Mondatta. The omnics. Zenyatta’s ambitions, threats, promises.
A worried sort of uneasiness settles as the days pass, leaving Genji sleepless. Strange habits rear their heads. Ones he never meant to outgrow, but just hadn’t needed anymore.
Pastimes that keep calls to a certain omnic from going to voicemail more than once.
Zenyatta wouldn't be gone forever. Genji tries not to count the hours.
The club is Shimada-owned. Tasteful, compared to the establishments Genji used to frequent as a younger man. The hosts are...flamboyantly dressed, but not all. He chooses an old favorite: Fumi-chan, with long, dark curls and darker eyes. That'd always been his favorite feature of hers; a sharp gaze that said you couldn't hide anything. Not from her. The years had done little to wear out that spark.
"I hope they've given you a raise, Fumi-chan. You're too good for this place."
"This is an establishment you own, isn't it, Genji-san?" She gently intones as they enter the VIP section, quiet and intimately lit. He feels a twinge of nostalgia despite himself. He is not one to dwell on the past. "Don’t worry. I make more than I know what to do with."
"I sincerely doubt that. I remember your tastes."
She smiles then, one part demure and three parts wicked.
"Your patronage is very much appreciated."
Fumi-chan leads him into a room, spacious and secluded and just for them. He had loved this, once upon a time. It had been hard to trust anyone, even the ones he paid, but Fumi-chan's loyalty had never wavered. She lets her hands slip from his, gently urging him onto one of the leather couches at the room’s center. The soft, fuschia lights overlay everything, another plane of existence. A pretty, neon spectacle. He turns his eyes back to her.
"Would you care for a drink?" she asks.
Fumi-chan’s eyes, long-lashed and devious, narrow as she asks him. They’d already polished off a bottle of gold label shochu, the smooth sweetness lingering on his tongue, soothing the bounce in his leg and the tapping of his fingers against the table.
They spend another half a bottle wiggling him into their largest uniform, still too small, though it does grant the illusion of a nice rack. It's mimicry of Fumi-chan’s outfit: bunny ears with one drooping, a black bodice with a sweetheart neckline, fabric cut high where hips meet stomach. The stockings itch, but Genji doesn’t want to half-ass it once he’s wearing the rest of the uniform. It’s fun in the way that alcohol can make most things, and Fumi-chan has a knack for conversation that requires little participation.
Nothing like drinking with a beautiful girl that pours heavy and speaks pleasant ambience.
“So this is what an oyabun does in his spare time.”
A startlingly familiar voice rings over the quiet rumble of distant, rhythmic bass.
Genji fights the urge to lick his lips; it would be a shame to smear the pink gloss that Fumi-chan had so meticulously applied. He leans a bit too heavily into the plush sofa as Fumi-chan, nestled at his side, stares at the intruder with pursed lips.
“Zenyatta,” Genji says, grinning, a traitorous blush creeping along the bridge of his nose. “So you are following me.”
Genji doesn’t spare a thought to how the omnic got past security detail. (Golden tongue or golden claws.) Instead, he takes him in like a painting.
Zenyatta cleans up well. Not that he ever looked anything less than perfect, not unless it’s well into the night, robes askew and chassis steaming as he puts Genji in his place. His suit is sharp, jet black, with a thin, gold tie that matches his chrome.
“You missed our meeting,” Zenyatta replies, array carefully posed on Genji’s face. “Perhaps you were too preoccupied to notice.”
The omnic’s stiller than usual, and Genji sits up a little straighter, freezing when his array tilts towards Fumi-chan.
“Miss,” Zenyatta’s voice is even and soft. Genji shivers. “Would you please excuse us?”
Genji knows better than to argue. Fumi-chan leaves with a single glance over her shoulder. Way too clever, that one.
The door closes without a sound.
“A meeting, huh?” Genji murmurs, plucking the half-drunk sake bottle from the table in front of him, taking a quick sip. “I don’t remember—”
Zenyatta’s array flickers, a timeless instant that turns Genji’s nervousness into a smug twist of his lips.
“Oh, Zen.” His grin widens. “Jealousy does not become you.”
“Jealousy?” Zenyatta says the word like a novelty. “What would become of my reputation if I could not keep my sparrow caged?” The omnic tilts his head, array flaring. “You would do well to mind your tongue.”
The ice of Zenyatta’s retort tears into his body with unexpected bite. How many times had that same tone dropped Genji to his knees? They stare at each other, one unreadable, or so he thinks, and one open like a book, a secret lingering between its pages.
Then, Zenyatta sinks onto the couch opposite him in a single, fluid motion.
“If you wished to play hostess, you need only ask, Genji-chan.”
Jarring, as if the room suddenly tilted a few degrees, Genji’s heartbeat picks up, the grin loose and stupid on his face.
He smooths his hair into place, brushed silken by Fumi-chan an hour earlier. Barefoot (there hadn’t been shoes that would fit) he kneels to survey the low shelf of alcohol beneath the table.
“So, Tekhartha-sama.” The honorific rolls easily off his tongue. They had played like this before, and the memory heats Genji deliciously. “Would you care for a drink?”
“The Junmai Daiginjo.”
“Excellent choice.” He withdraws a navy bottle with a gold neck and a delicate mizuhiki knot.
Zenyatta leans his faceplate into his palm as Genji pours, his array bright teal in the blacks and purples of the room. Genji feels each pinpoint on his body as he sets a glass in front of Zenyatta and takes his place next to him. Rather than comforting coolness, the space between radiates like stoked coals.
“Describe its taste.”
Genji huffs, leaning to retrieve the glass, his uniform taut and clinging. He makes a show of it, and why not? Zenyatta’s buttons are difficult to press, but Genji knows the sequence. Rather than demurely slip, he tips his head back, neck long and exposed, bisected by a lace black choker that bobs as he swallows.
“Sweet, faintly rich. A wave of sakura on the wind. Honied like melted sugar.” Genji feels the ghosts of Zenyatta’s hands on his body, bruising, possessive fingers.
Zenyatta tsks. “I have no taste for sweetness.”
The way Zenyatta says it thrills him.
“Liar,” Genji singsongs, finishing off the eight thousand yen glass in a single go.
It’s the drink; it’s Zenyatta hot against his side.
He moves with the ease of honed reflexes, but Zenyatta does not startle, does not move an inch. His metal is warm, the hidden slit of his mouth widening ever so slightly at the press of glossed lips.
“Well?” Genji whispers against his chrome.
“All I detect is that cheap wax on your lips.” The words rumble from Zenyatta’s synth.
Genji smiles, leans back just enough to see the pink shine smeared over the omnic’s mouth.
“At least tell me I’m pretty.”
Genji drapes his arms around Zenyatta’s shoulders, slipping into his lap like he belonged there. Hostesses didn’t do this. They didn’t kiss their customers or want them so badly they could hardly keep still.
Oh. The thought slams through Genji’s mind, debilitating, dizzying. I have it bad.
“You are beautiful.”
A hand settles low on Genji’s back, warm enough to startle. Then it slides up his spine, sinks into his hair, tugging just enough to set Genji’s teeth on edge, a groan shaken from his chest.
“Especially in your suffering.” He pulls harder, until Genji’s back is a bow arched at his mercy. “How soon you forget your place. Infuriating, how much you enjoy being put back in it.”
“Y-you love it,” Genji wheezes, chest heaving, cock desperately trying to tent the impossibly tight fabric clinging to it.
Zenyatta doesn’t say a word, but the gentle hiss of steam kisses Genji’s throat, his skin shivering into gooseflesh.
“What did you expect, coming here? Did you think I would be balls deep in pussy?”
The omnic tightens his grip, yanks his hair, throws him to the floor. Ice and charm demanding penance, his life balanced beneath the slender curve of Zenyatta’s sole.
At least, that’s what Genji expected.
Zenyatta stills, lifeless as a mannequin. As if he had powered down without warning. Only his array burns and his systems thrum, companions to Genji’s confusion. In every past conversation, flirtatious and cruel, locked against one another, standing adjacent at a cocktail party, bathed in pre-dawn glow, as fragile as the single star in the light polluted sky, this is where Genji had misstepped, in this strange, offhand joke. Seconds from stumbling through an apology, a swear flies from Genji’s lips instead.
Thin arms twist around his back, tug him against the hot metal of Zenyatta’s chest, cheek pressed into the pistons at his throat. He doesn’t breathe. The omnic doesn’t move.
But he doesn’t let go.
Slowly, he weaves his arms behind Zenyatta, settling his hands as gently as a question along the plates of his shoulders, intricate, familiar. How many times had Genji grasped them, held on like he would be lost? He relaxes into the embrace, seconds spinning into minutes. Maybe longer. (Who could say?)
“Zen.” The warmth of his words fogs the metal of Zenyatta’s pistons. “Don’t worry.” He grins. “Your pussy’s the best.”
The room shifts, pain blossoming, properly this time, along his scalp.
“I think,” the crisp snap of a frozen branch rendered perfectly in synth. “That is quite enough of that.”
A claw scrapes beneath his choker and yanks, toppling Genji over his lap, a scramble until Zenyatta has him just where he wants him, Genji’s face smashed into the cushions and his hips squarely over metal thighs.
“Okyaku-sama, not here. Mama-san will be angry with me,” Genji wheezes in a half-baked falsetto.
The first swing forces an embarrassing squeak from his lungs, his cock throbbing, dampening his uniform. The thin fabric does not protect him from the singing metal of Zenyatta’s hand; half his ass hangs out of the damned outfit anyway.
Zenyatta always leaves such pretty marks, each a sense memory burned into his flesh, like a tattoo, like scars, dangerously earned, a trophy for just the two of them. If only he could mark Zenyatta in the same way, scratch his chassis, dent that elegant face for his next televised speech—
The flurry of blows steals his breath, his thoughts a chaotic blur beneath Zenyatta’s hand. He writhes, the friction burning and stinging, but he needs it, some release, to be freed, to fall beneath the unwavering glare of an omnic array. His array.
“You are cruel,” Zenyatta bites.
Genji laughs, breathless and wild, before a deluge of whimpers and swears and painful, moaned pleas replaces it. His hands fist uselessly in the cushions next to to his face, itching to tug his arms behind his back, hold position like Zenyatta had commanded time and time before.
Cruel? Genji supposes he is, even when he’s the one helpless, trying to rub one off against segmented thighs as he’s spanked raw and stupid.
The pain abates, the slaps ceasing for a harried shifting. He feels Zenyatta unbutton his pants, shove his hand down, withdraw. The omnic tugs Genji’s uniform aside, the bunched fabric squeezing tender, inflamed flesh. His vision blurs, pain and pleasure popping and bursting, overshadowing and fading into each other. A frictionless slide, Zenyatta’s fingers, coated with his own blood-warm slick, smear between his Genji’s cheeks. The omnic spends no time teasing, a mean finger tracing around Genji’s opening once before pressing deep to the second knuckle.
“Don’t. Speak,” Zenyatta hisses.
Genji buries his face into the cushions, angling his hips up, back, begging for the brutal touch, and a second finger presses inside much too soon, painful.
“Please, need it. Need you, Zen—”
The fingers curl, slowly, barely catching against that addicting spot that weakens his vision. Genji’s worst distraction, the touch, and the man touching him, laid bare, the only one who knows—
“You listen when it pleases you and disobey at whim. Perhaps I need to adjust your punishments.”
Genji scrambles when Zenyatta withdraws his fingers, does everything in his power to follow the motions of his hands. He reaches for Zenyatta’s cock, delighting in the harsh jut of it through his slacks.
“Put your hands on my shoulders,” Zenyatta orders, and Genji complies.
So close, Zenyatta’s array momentarily blinds him as he plants his knees and arches, pressing them chest to chest. His cock throbs, nipples tight and sensitive against the stiff bodice, wanting more than anything to rub against Zenyatta, find his pleasure while his array burns a permanent afterimage in his mind. Seeing each of his imperfections, the secret knicks next to his lip and along the secret port just above, every time he closes his eyes—
Zenyatta cups his ass, spreading him open, and Genji groans, the smarting marks flattened and bright hot in his grip. The blunt press of cock brushes where Genji’s worked open and aching, and he tries to bare down, but Zenyatta holds him steady.
“You want me to fuck you hard. Hurt you?” He tilts his array. “I will not.”
There isn’t time for confusion as Zenyatta lowers Genji onto his cock. He bites his lips, spreads his thighs, waiting for the breath-stealing thrust that never comes. Instead, he sinks like quicksand, inch by inch, slow, way too slow, slower than Zenyatta’s ever taken him. Even when he edged Genji to tears, there was always a cruel speed to it, no nonsense like a one-two punch that kept him unbalanced and helpless, willing to give Zenyatta everything.
Zenyatta’s cock doesn’t feel like a human’s. The shape is right, but it has a strange give, the pre teal and copious, slicking up his insides. Even with what little preprepation Zenyatta granted, the first press turns liquid smooth in moments, a soothing, agonizing salve. Genji wants to feel it for days, even when Zenyatta isn’t there, to remember it when he sits, when he’s schmoozing elites, the omnic’s claim aching inside his body. He twists and strains, swearing under his breath.
“Zen, c’mon—fuck me, please.” The words are shameless, his balls drawn tight against his body.
Zenyatta tips his chin up a degree or two, never looking away from Genji’s face, his hands vice-like and unforgiving as they lower him. Another moment of agony and the backs of his thighs meet Zenyatta’s. A rumbling groan, eyelashes fluttering, head tossed back.
“That’s it, yeah…” Genji pants, licking his lips, clenching around Zenyatta, falling forward to bite along his pistons, drag his tongue over the soft black column of his throat.
Zenyatta laughs, two gentle huffs. Then he lifts Genji as slowly as he lowered him, precise, calculated motions. It’s not nearly enough, like they’re young lovers, though they never had such a gentle beginning. Men like them never did.
No dirty words. No orders. Zenyatta breathes and steams, groaning quietly every time he fills him completely.
Genji’s heart hammers in his throat. He keeps his face tucked where Zenyatta cannot see, painfully aware of each slow, even thrust, the sound of Zenyatta’s body, the waxing pain leaving only this soft, swelling pleasure. Genji’s leaking inside the uniform, afraid to even look at how badly he’s ruined it. Zenyatta starts to roll his hips, fluid pumps that meet Genji’s descent, harsh gasping replacing any silly, teasing jabs Genji can’t even formulate. Zenyatta, delicate-looking and light, easily overpowers him, had on so many occasions, but in his arms now, holding him upright, rocking Genji onto his cock with perfectly timed thrusts, Genji trembles. Trembles in the wake of each quiet, wet smack only for the cycle to repeat, waves reverberating, hypnotic. Flushed as if his whole body had been lashed, sweat beading, gleaming along scars and skin.
He bites Zenyatta’ pistons, whines into the damp, shining metal, lower body liquid and bright hot. His gasps are quiet, hesitant things, weak but unstoppable.
“Are you close?” The words are strangely devoid of normal sharpness, shockingly breathless.
“Y-yeah. I…” Genji stumbles. His fingers shake as they come to rest on Zenyatta’s back.
There’s a tremble in Zenyatta’s frame, small at first, barely noticeable, lost as Genji is on the teetering, dangerous point of pleasure, motions singing in his blood but not enough to push him over. A single hand on his cock, a snap of Zenyatta’s hips. Something...anything...
“Please,” he whispers into the side of Zenyatta’s jaw.
A hitch. A quiet, synthetic gasp. He hikes Genji’s hips higher, takes all his weight, pumps into him with just a little force. Genji swears, deep and low; he doesn’t even know what he’s saying, only that it quickens Zenyatta moreso, a searing brightness ricocheting through his body, whiting out his vision. Endless, he writhes under its thrall.
Softness at his back. Wet, sticky warmth at his front. His mind cobbling together the pieces. The teal of an array, lights flickering, closing the distance. He kisses Zenyatta, tasting pink, waxy gloss, warmed by the metal.
Another broken gasp, Zenyatta moving, still buried between his thighs.
“The costume really does it for you, huh.”
After a moment, they both laugh, Zenyatta resting his array to Genji’s sweaty forehead.
“I will not be done until I steal that wit from you.”
“Better get to it, then,” Genji murmurs, wrapping his calves around Zenyatta’s lower back, urging him forward, deeper.
Genji’s naked by the time they are finished, marked, aching and exhausted, splayed shamelessly on the ruined couch.
Zenyatta, only slightly less worse for wear, sits on the floor in front of him, the back of his head resting on the cushions.
Sated, it's easier to ignore the being that occupies most of his waking thoughts.
The omnic rolls his shoulders incrementally, his array glowing and softening to an unheard melody.
“Take me with you, next time you leave.” Genji stares at the ceiling. "I think I need a vacation."
The omnic's quiet for a moment. Genji hangs onto every second.
"I believe you are correct." Zenyatta tilts his head enough to see Genji's face. "Where should we go?"
"Numbani. Rialto. Anywhere."
"A tempting thought. I have wanted to show you off. However," he hums. "You have business here."
“I can just leave Hanzo in charge while I'm gone." Genji’s voice is light, teasing.
“Maybe you should.”
Genji sits up, wincing from settling aches and pains. He wouldn't mind a smoke. Maybe he could steal one off McCree when that idiot isn't looking.
“And why would I do that?”
“He is loyal, keen on not bringing shame upon the family a second time." Zenyatta turns fully towards him. "I could have you at my beck and call always. My human pet.” He smiles without a face to show for it. "Give it some thought. I would certainly make it your while."
An answer to his restlessness, packaged with a bow. Genji remembers Hanzo's stilted words, modulated from his respirator, tight and formal and annoying as he'd ever been. Pathetic. Genuine.
"You'd say anything to keep me under your heel," he scoffs finally, more seriously than he means.
"You are blind not to take the olive branch he offers."
Genji works his jaw in the lingering silence. He watches Zenyatta in the gloom, suit mussed, array dim, and sighs.
“Take me home?”
He dozes on the way back, tucked into Zenyatta’s side, lulled by the omnic’s promise.
Zenyatta standing along a sandy shore, backlit by the setting sun. Zenyatta sitting across from him at a private, three-star restaurant, describing each bite of food. Scaling a mountain to see endless3.
022 snowy peaks that remind Zenyatta of home. They could rent an entire hotel, watch five hundred movies, drink all the booze and ruin every bed.
Genji buries his cheek into his warm, firm shoulder, listening to the hum of Zenyatta’s body.
It’s the most rested he’s felt in weeks.
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Various OW with Cheating S/O
“Can you do a cheating s/o? I don't know why, but it seems interesting to me. With Genji, Mccree, Hanzo, and Zenyatta? Sorry, if this is a weird request!” - @daddymikasa
This wasn’t a weird request and i’m sorry it took like two weeks to do, I got stuck in a bit of a sad phase but i'm getting better now. Anyways for this i took a nice look at eight common reasons for people to cheat then just picked random ones. Enjoy!
How could he blame me for this? It was a choice on my behalf but I shouldn’t be the only one who has to take responsibility, he knows he isn’t blameless…
Genji, Falling in love with someone new
“I know his past and accepted his ways, accepted his changes. To date a cyborg ninja, how can i openly admit that to anyone, walk in the streets knowing im with a man who in the past would have bedded any other person who passed him a glance. Or he'll tell someone I’m dating a man who killed his entire clan then took on mercenary work. None of this was ever easy on me. I’m no solely to blame.
He did change, he’s calm and caring but I know something is going on between him and Doctor Ziegler. I cannot ignore that anymore, I don't want to have to hide my heartbreak every single time he gazed at her. I know the difference between the ways he looks at her and me. He cares about her deeply , the glance she receives is one of adoration, i get the look of lust and sadness.
To confess, he’s just this guy I used to work with but we always had one of those relationships. The playful flirting kind. It never meant anything but well… He showed up, I was depressed and one thing lead to another.
Tell him if you want, doesn’t faze me anymore.”
“She doesn’t need to tell me, I heard everything.”
That feeling, it hung heavy in the air, remorse, sorrow, it was pitiful. He had already known what had happened, he went to go talk to her like he usually did after harsh missions but she wasn't there, she was in a bar with another man.
“I think it’s best if we don’t see each other again.”
McCree, You seek revenge
“Call it revenge, that's what it was.” Spitting out those words hurt but it was what had to be said. How am I supposed to respond politely after catching my partner sleeping with some random girl he met god knows where.
“Doll, I was told I was drunk and that i regret it. I can’t say no more than that” That thick southern drawl, everything about him is attractive, im not surprised this happened. I was waiting for this, the day he found some other girl prettier or whatever. Just because I knew it would happen didn’t stop it from hurting.
“What sort of an excuse is that?” It was bitter. The alcohol i mean. I drank that night , then the next, i hit a low. On those nights I found love again, in three different guys. Fast nights of action that left me dissatisfied and disgusted. It was worth it.
“Well, what's your reason if its so good, huh?” He’s looking at me with this really pissed off look. Good it’s kinda hot.
“Already told you, revenge. Clearly you didn't like it so guess how I felt?!”
“Just get the fuck out”
Hanzo, I literally have no idea
Oh this is gonna have consequences. I didn’t know that that was going to happen. I love Hanzo, i can’t deny that. Will he hate me? It wasn’t that bad, surely he’ll understand. He knows how easy it is to talk me into things. Please don’t let him be angry.
“I have been told about what has occurred. Why did you not tell me yourself?” His voice seems the same as usual, cold, calm… doesn’t seem angry.
“I was scared you’d be angry.” Why is my voice so weak right now. The past is the past, can't change that, so i have to say this with confidence right? “Are...are you, you know, are you mad at me?” Well screw the confidence plan then.
“I want you to explain the situation to me in detail, until then, I am undecided.”
Zenyatta, Lack of emotional satisfaction in your primary relationship
It was great… at the beginning. I mean it's not the most thrilling thing in the world, dating a robotic monk. I mean it sounds cool and he himself is great. He’s always cared about me and he is an extremely sweet guy but well, i always knew something was missing. I’m going to refer to it as personality variation. That’s the thing about Zenyatta always calm, collected, content. Turning each small thing into a grand life lesson. I just didn’t like it. I want to be with someone who feels and shows it. Happy, sad, angry, all of it. It doesn’t seem like an extreme request.
Now how do you tell someone you cheated because you think they’re emotionless, the answer is you don't. You work around it, package it nicely as something else. Lie. So i may or may not have told a little lie and said that, well, I am moving to a new country to start a new life due to identity crisis. It was the best I could think of short notice, don’t judge me!
Oh yeah, I may have also not said it to him directly and left it in a note. I don't want to have to say it to him in person. Then I'd have to lie to his face and then I'd tell more lies and I'd lose track and my story wouldn't make sense and I'd dig myself a hole and-- this really has got me worked up.
So let’s just say for now i'm on holiday, yeah i can get away with saying that.
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How was Genji's first blackwatch mission? Or.. First time meeting Mccree and Reyes?
Paolo the probation officer kept a leisurely pace behind Genji as he wheeled through Zurich headquarters. Paolo was medium height, dressed in the all-black of Blackwatch with multiple tattoos up his arms. He had a mild south Italian accent and had even politely offered to push Genji’s wheelchair, but Genji could already feel the muscles of his remaining organic arm softening and refused. He felt a little exposed compared to the blackwatch agent, just wearing a gray tee and sweatpants whose empty dangling pant legs had been tied off in knots and folded under his leg stumps. They were only just starting to put him in prosthetics, and he was far from balanced when he wore them.
“So...” Genji gave a glance over his shoulder to Paolo as he wheeled, “You’re in Blackwatch?”
“Eh, just a grunt,” Paolo gave a dismissive hand wave, “I was a security guard at the Blackwatch headquarters in Roma.” He chuckled a little, “Much warmer there.”
“Mm,” Genji fixed his eyes back forward and kept up his roll. He would ask more but a part of him knew he wouldn’t get the answers he was looking for out of Paolo. All those answers lay ahead of him. He was more used to the rhythm of the wheelchair than he would like to admit at this point. They got into an elevator and Paolo leaned in a corner, humming as the elevator descended.
Doesn’t seem very disciplined for a black ops division, Genji thought to himself before the elevator dinged and the doors opened to a narrow hallway with two guards standing next to steel doors in all-black tactical gear. They gave a glance to Paolo, who flashed them an ID card, one of them scanned the card with their comm, returning an affirmative beep, and both gave Paolo a nod before pressing a button on the intercom next to the door.
“Agent Montemurro and Candidate Shimada entering,” said the guard before the steel doors whooshed open.
Candidate Shimada, Genji turned the word ‘candidate’ over in his head as he wheeled into a massive underground office space with multiple monitors all over the walls and orange-ish industrial lights illuminating everything. Here seemed to be a mix of agents and office workers, some in varying layers of tactical gear, some in full armor while others just in black shirts and fatigues, some in business casual, all more or less caught up in their own affairs as Genji and Paolo crossed the space. Genji felt a few eyes on him as he wheeled through, and glanced down at the stumps of his legs self-consciously.
“This way,” said Paolo, walking ahead of him, and Genji could only sullenly wheel after him. He scanned the room, too many bodies for him to remember one face, and so many of them glancing at him, glancing down at him as he wheeled across the floor, but he caught a familiar voice, though he wasn’t sure how it was familiar.
“Nah, the intel from the Sharoy mission says that’s all bullshit. Look, get in touch with Agent Mazur and you should--Oh--hey!”
A tall, swaggering figure in Blackwatch fatigues, a cowboy hat and some kind of black poncho suddenly swung in next to Genji’s wheelchair. He had an agreeable squarish face framed by umber brown sideburns. Genji didn’t recognize his face, but he caught sight of a skull tattoo on his forearm that sparked some blurry memories from the night Hanzo attacked him. He remembered being jostled on a stretcher with that tattoo steadying it before falling into unconsciousness again.
“It’s you!” the cowboy said, chewing on an unlit cigar, “Didn’t think you’d be up and at ‘em this early! Look at you, all wheelin’ around..!”
His voice trailed off in an odd way, as if expecting Genji to pick up the conversation. Genji glanced up at him and slowed in the rolling of his wheelchair.
“I’m sorry,” said Genji, “Do I know you?”
“Heh,” he walked alongside Genji’s wheelchair and tilted back the brim of his hat with his thumb, “Oh I’m nobody. But I was spottin’ the doc that night we took you in. Nearly killed you. Full disclosure.”
Genji’s face scrunched up in some combination of confusion and fury. ‘Spotting the doc?’ What?
“Weird night. Think it worked out, though,” said the cowboy, before giving a glance down to Genji. He held out a hand, “Jesse McCree. Kinda got the same deal you’re gettin’.”
Genji glanced at his hand before looking back up at his eyes.He lifted a hand from his wheels to shake McCree’s hand before returning back to his wheels. “Shimada Genji,” he said in turn.
“Oh I know,” said McCree, chuckling and looking forward.
McCree strolled alongside them until Genji found himself rolling up a ramp leading into a glass-walled office where two men were talking. One was as familiar as McCree was, with medium clay-brown skin with scars that danced as he moved and spoke, and large, penetrating brown eyes that offset the soldierly squareness of his jaw. He was talking to a posh-looking man with an ivory complexion and jet black hair and mustache. Both of their eyes flicked to Genji as Genji, McCree, and Paolo walked up to the door of the office.
The scarred man was the first to notice them and leaned, catlike, across his desk to press a button. The doors slid open and Genji and McCree walked in. Genji gave a confused glance to Paolo, who simply gave him a polite wave as the doors closed on him.
“Genji Shimada? Gérard LaCroix. Blackwatch’s attaché to the UN,” a crisp, bright voice, only slightly softened by a Parisian accent, spoke and Genji’s head swung up to look at the voice’s source. The mustached man was standing in front of him, politely holding out his hand. Genji awkwardly brought his hand off the wheelchair’s armrest and shook Gérard’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” Gérard went on.
The phrase, ‘good things, I hope’ seemed to be a really stupid thing to say at this point. “I’ve heard about you as well,” said Genji, hoping he had and had just forgotten about it.
“Ah good to hear. So you have a decent idea of what we intend to do here,” said Gérard.
“Yyes,” said Genji, blankly, then after a beat, he remembered his conversation with Mercy, “You need my help to dismantle the Shimada clan.”
“Among other things,” said the scarred man, pushing away from his desk and walking toward Genji, “Gabriel Reyes. Blackwatch commander. I was also on the recovery team bringing you in.”
Genji sat up in his wheelchair slightly, “I’ve been meaning to ask some questions about that.”
“A lot of the answers to that will likely be classified, but I can answer what I can,” said Reyes, folding his arms.
“How were you watching me and for how long?” said Genji, his eyes narrowing, “You had to be, to know when to swoop in like that.”
Reyes and McCree exchanged wary glances, but Gérard cleared his throat. “If I may?”
Gabriel gave Gérard a ‘go ahead,’ gesture and Gérard straightened the collar of his waistcoat. “For the most part, the UN and Interpol had decided to leave dealing with the Shimada clan up to the NPA, but we feared the clan was becoming prominent enough to garner the attention of the international terrorist organization, Talon. We used a light hand. Only a handful of operatives seeded around the city, gauging the internal structural strength of the clan. They’ve since been extracted. The plan was, initially, to detain you on charges of possession, match the drugs in your possession to those our other busts had recovered worldwide, and drag the clan into the light behind you, doing all this in collaboration with the NPA.”
“You were never planning to recruit me,” said Genji. Something tensed in his stomach. Hanzo had always said he was a liability, would he have taken the whole clan down if Hanzo hadn’t killed him?
“Initially,” Gérard emphasized, “When we found out that the Shimada Dragons might be more than a metaphor, that warranted closer observation.”
“So you’re recruiting me for the dragon,” said Genji.
“We’re recruiting you because we have a shared interest,” said Gabriel, “But as far as what we saw the night we extracted you goes… it would be a waste to let it, and you, rot in a jail cell.”
“…so my choice is either help you or go to jail,” said Genji, flatly.
“Not necessarily,” said Gérard, “And… here’s where we get into the messy legal stuff. You could argue for the case that ultimately your safety was compromised by Overwatch’s interference, that one of the agents we had observing you was compromised. As far as all of Overwatch’s records show, there was no such incident of compromise, but you could legally argue that that occurred and Overwatch or the NPA could provide you with the legal representation to argue that case in court. After all, we couldn’t keep eyes on you 24/7, maybe something happened that we weren’t aware of. If you successfully prove your case, Overwatch faces severe scandal and UN inquiry, but then your case gets handed back to the NPA---”
About midway through Gérard’s long ramble on his legal status, Genji had half-tuned him out, glancing over his shoulder in his wheelchair to look at McCree. McCree was still chewing that unlit cigar, leaning against the glass wall of the office. He gave Genji a smirking, ‘Welp’ shrug, as Gérard went on, and Genji frowned beneath his surgical mask.
“And again,” Gérard was still going on when Genji yanked his attention back to him, “We could provide you with legal representation there, but this is a process that could take months, years, even, given how entangled the Shimada clan’s offenses are with multiple governments around the world. Overwatch would be more than happy to accommodate you in that time, provide you with rudimentary prosthetics. So there is a chance of having all your charges dropped, it’s just… an unfortunately small one through at least half a dozen legal systems and a lot of tedious litigation.”
“But I don’t think that’s what you want,” said Gabriel keeping a steady gaze on Genji, “From what I hear, you’re more than eager to take the Shimada clan down.”
“’s better than my deal, anyway,” said McCree with a huff. Gabriel shot him a glare and McCree just gave him a shrug.
Genji met Gabriel’s big brown eyes. Reyes was right, but he was right in a way that made the smoldering coals of Genji’s own fury blaze up inside him again. He did want this. He did want to take the Shimada clan down, but the idea that it might be for yet someone else’s ends infuriated him. This was his vengeance. No one else’s. And he let that rage penetrate through as he stared at Reyes, but Reyes met his eyes with a resigned calm. A patient, weary look of, ‘Noted. Whenever you’re ready to move on.’ And a part of Genji felt that look should have made him angrier, should have pushed him further in to that fire and darkness, but instead Genji felt his brow crinkling slightly. He realized in that moment that he was not the first person the Shimada clan had hurt. And he would not be the last. It only stung deeper for him because that was his family. But it wasn’t his family any more. And there were a few confused seconds of floundering fury where Genji wanted to cuss Reyes out, wanted to storm out as dramatically as his stupid wheelchair would allow, but he remembered his own words to Doctor Ziegler.
“What do I have to do to see my brother’s head on the ground as quickly as possible?”
“There’s plenty of time to--” Gérard started.
“I’m in,” Genji’s voice was flat.
“Good to hear,” said Gabriel with a casual nod.
“But I want direct involvement with every Shimada clan mission,” said Genji, “Every one. If possible I want to be on the main strike team involved with each mission.”
“...after your physical therapy and psychological evaluations, we’ll do everything we can to--” Gérard started.
“You’ve got it,” said Gabriel, matching Genji’s voice in coldness and simplicity.
Gérard cast a sideways glance to Gabriel but Gabriel met his eyes with the same steadiness he met Genji’s with. Gérard cleared his throat. “But of course,” he said, only some slight hesitance in his voice.
“Well then,” said Reyes, the slightest of smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth, “Welcome to the team, Genji.”
Genji’s eyes flicked between Reyes’, McCree’s, and Gérard’s faces for a few seconds. “...it’s that easy?” said Genji in the silence.
“Well yeah,” said McCree, leaning on Genji’s wheelchair, “First thing you gotta learn, bud: Blackwatch plays by its own rules.”
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Cutober: A Steaming Bowl of Ramen
I have not seen nearly enough about Hanzo and Genji sharing ramen together as friends and brothers again since the cookbook release, and I decided to change that. Please take my humble offering in hopes that one day, Hanzo and Genji will be friends again canonically. ;-;
Genji was forced to deal with both parties, talking to his friends about how they did not know the full story, that he had forgiven his brother and needed them to understand that he wanted to repair their relationship, that the hostility would only make things worse.
Then, the hard part was breaking through to Hanzo.
Hanzo had shown up to Watchpoint: Gibraltar near unrecognizable. An undercut, piercings, and questionable fashion choices had Genji doing a double take. Still the same sharp features, clean and well-groomed as always, still the same cautious gait and tense form that was recognizable. Always ready for a fight.
They had gotten into a few of those during the first few months of Hanzo settling into life as an official Overwatch agent; the stress of so much change was clearly getting to the elder Shimada. But still, it was a start, and he was trying. It had been rough with some of the agents Genji had known well before the fall. They knew plenty about Hanzo, and they knew how they felt about him, about what he had done to Genji.
Hanzo had reacted badly; bristling at first, arguing back with them, anger clear in the fine lines around his eyes, the way it made them light up. Then, it was quiet apologies the next day, his face paler and dark circles under his eyes, slipping away silently like he was trying to disappear. Genji was forced to deal with both parties, talking to his friends about how they did not know the full story, that he had forgiven his brother and needed them to understand that he wanted to repair their relationship, that the hostility would only make things worse.
Then, the hard part was breaking through to Hanzo. Seeing how much he still tore himself up over the past, how much it still devastated him. Drinking away the nights so he did not have nightmares of the moment he cut Genji down, of the years that followed on the run. Making it through the day only because to kill himself would mean taking away the last shred of honour he had left. Still heartbroken. Not the same person Genji had known.
And he was only a reminder to his brother.
A cyborg walking around the same as Genji had, laughing the same as Genji did, saying it was his brother when they were both truly changed men. Where Genji had changed for the better, Hanzo had spiraled. They had always said Hanzo was the great one, the protégée, the young master. All the pressure, the eyes, the brutal path to perfection. And this was what Hanzo had left to show for it. What it had done to him. What it had done to Genji.
The ninja had learned that it truly was not Hanzo’s fault, what had happened. The decision he had made in the end was his, but it was years of twisted words and empty lies in the making. Understanding had been a long journey, forgiveness even more so, but Genji wanted so badly to have his brother back.
His fond memories of the past helped him imagine a hopeful future, and he wanted to share that feeling with Hanzo. One day, perhaps, he would believe in it too. He was making progress, more still when Genji finally convinced him to try and learn from Zenyatta. His master had worked wonders on one Shimada, and the monk had always been interested in meeting Hanzo.
So Genji left them to it, finding that conversations slowly but surely started to come easier between him and his brother, that Hanzo would spend more time training with him, or talk on the rooftops when Genji had found him in the same spot he used to go to for quiet and solace, looking out at the stars. Hanzo started to open up, and Genji let him in.
Patient with the times Hanzo struggled to find words or express how he was feeling. Open with his own thoughts and emotions. Genji did not realize how much things had changed between them until he walked into the commons one evening—as per Hanzo’s request—to find him working on something over the stove. It smelled good. Familiar.
Genji grinned as he pressed the latches on the back of his faceplate, taking it off completely. He hopped onto the counter and put his hands in his hoodie pocket, leaning over to watch Hanzo cook.
“Ramen?” The ninja inquired after seeing the broth, Hanzo cutting green onions in precise motions.
“I could not find all the right ingredients, but...” Hanzo trailed off, glancing at the younger Shimada. He still stared at the scars. Openly. Eyes flicking over them as if he was recalling which ones he had put there, and which were from the aftermath of becoming a cyborg and working with Overwatch.
Genji allowed it, let him visibly come to terms with it just like every other time before he looked back down at his task. He seemed like he was finding bits of Genji that he still recognized, though, which was new. Like he was finally believing that this was truly his brother. Accepting him as he was now, slowly but surely.
“It will not be as good as when we used to get it,” Hanzo finally finished. Genji blinked, feeling a smile grow on his lips; maybe he remembered, maybe he wanted it too.
“Well, is it spicy? Because I bet I can still take it hotter than you can.”
Hanzo did not quite smile, but it was a close thing. He shrugged, making a little gesture with his hands awkwardly. Same old Hanzo.
“There is some hot sauce of some sort in the refrigerator if you really want some, but I think it is for agent McCree’s usage.”
“Eh, I’ll pass on that. Who knows how long that’s been sitting in there.”
“I made it vegetarian, so the flavour might be a bit off...But it’s ready. If you want,” Hanzo offered. Genji smiled, hopping off the counter to take a bowl.
“Yeah, I definitely want some! Thanks for making it vegetarian, did Zen tell you I like it that way?”
“He might have mentioned it,” Hanzo shrugged, Genji patting his shoulder as he passed to spoon some noodles and broth in his bowl, then add some toppings.
They went to the table just outside of the kitchenette, Hanzo watching Genji expectantly. The ninja huffed a little laugh to himself, then took a bite. Raised his brows. It was nothing spectacular, a little bland even, but it reminded him of home. And Hanzo had made it. Hanzo was sitting across from him, sharing a steaming bowl of ramen with him again.
“It’s really good,” Genji grinned. His brother did smile, then, nodding to himself. Progress, and new fond memories. Genji was happy.
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As Hanzo looked down to see small rivers of blood pooling over his fingers, dripping into the fabric of his ceremonial Kyudo-gi, a single phrase echoed through his mind.
You cannot be an Omega, Shimada's are not Omegas.
A blight upon their family, his father had said. Test after test was performed. Hanzo was poked and prodded, his blood tested again and again and again, multiple doctors where contacted and insulted in the same manner of accused incompetence- and still the results remained the same. Hanzo Shimada was the first, and only, Omega first-born in the history of the Shimada family.
Hanzo had vivid memories of his mother attempting to reason with their father, begging him to let a 15 year old Hanzo have at least his first Heat- that the chance of complications later in life were tenfold if he used suppressants before that- and Hanzo would never forget the despair on her face as he staunchly refused. He would never forget the way his father looked at him with contempt and disgust, or the pity in the doctor's eyes as Hanzo quietly took his first dose.
He will be an Alpha in mind and body. The distraction of a Heat would only weaken him.
An archaic viewpoint by current standards, but so were most of the traditions in their family. They were the Shimada clan, tradition was how they maintained their strength- according to his father- and Hanzo had always believed him. He was their weakest link.
You will have to work harder than any Shimada before you. You have a natural disadvantage, one that you will have to strive to overcome in every aspect of your life. No one must ever know you are an Omega. You must always hold your head high and never miss your medication, it is what will help you maintain your strength-
-and maintain the Shimada image. Only Alphas, no Omegas- no traditional sign of weakness.
So he trained. What little social life Hanzo could’ve had was spent studying and honing his skills to the point of perfection, and at every turn he sought any sign of his father's approval. He was fluent in multiple languages, adept in multiple subjects including military tactics and politics, and he was an unbeatable archer. Never once did he see his father so much as smile.
Genji was the only person Hanzo could call a friend, and any acquaintances he'd made through his father's facilitated forms of socialization were nothing more than that. None of them would ever know what Hanzo was. None of them knew the weight he bore on his shoulders, or what it meant to be the family disgrace. None of them knew he was just that.
Take the test Hanzo. How long will you wait to claim your place as head of the clan?
How do I know I am ready?
When will you be ready, if not today? You have overcome your nature, is now not the time?
And so the ceremony began with little more than a few phone calls and a gathering of 5 old men in a private room. Hanzo knelt before them and a shallow tea cup was passed between each one. A sip was taken by each before it was passed to Hanzo, who bowed his head and accepted their declaration.
A battle with a warrior of their choice. And to be expected- a battle to the death. A sip and the glass was placed on the ground before him, and they all rose to move to the designated room where their chosen warrior waited for Hanzo's arrival. Hanzo steeled himself. This was his moment, the culmination of his entire life and all of the grooming his father had so generously dedicated to Hanzo's life (despite what Genji had to say about it) and it was his chance to prove to his father that he was worthy of their family name. He would be the Alpha his father wanted to lead their clan, biology be damned.
If only that was how it happened.
Genji watched from the rafters as the battle unfolded. Perched carefully in the shadow of one of the massive posts that supported the roof of the arena, he maintained the perfect spot to watch the ebb and flow of battle and still remain undetected. He barely made it inside before the doors were sealed shut, slipping easily from shadow to shadow until he found his current hiding spot. While it was a risk to intrude on such a private affair, Genji couldn't miss one of the most important moments of Hanzo's life.
He couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was about to unfold.
He believed in his brother, whether or not his brother truly believed in himself, and he knew his brother had the drive and dedication to take on any challenge he set his mind to. It was something Genji had admired in him since they were children, but something about this tradition- about his father's treatment of Hanzo being an Omega- every part of it felt wrong. They were all aware of the dangers Hanzo's long-term use of suppressants presented, and not a soul outside of the immediate family and their doctor knew about Hanzo's 'condition' – as his father called it. It was their family's most guarded secret, and the longer it was kept, the more Genji worried his brother would seriously harm himself in his desire for acceptance.
No matter the disdain or pain their father put him through, Hanzo followed his order and instructions diligently and without fault. He was so desperate to prove himself and gain their father's approval that he was blind to the fact that he would never receive it- no matter how hard he tried. Genji could see the manipulation, the grooming clear as day, but no matter how many times he tried to convince Hanzo to let it go- to live his own life and learn how to accept himself- his brother's stubborn pride only steeled his foolish determination further.
I promise to prove you both wrong. He'd say with that hardened expression, the one Genji was sure could overcome any obstacle, and he prayed to the gods and their ancestors to give Hanzo the strength to do just that.
You don’t have to! Genji would protest, but even that would only earn him a small smile, one that said Hanzo believed such an idea was part of being the naive younger brother.
Genji wanted his brother to be right. He wanted those moments of kindness that Hanzo displayed- those times where he went so far as to shield Genji from their father's ire, or covered for a member of their clan who had made a mistake only to take the brunt of the blame, he wanted those to mean something. He wanted Hanzo to know they meant something, despite whatever their father had to say. He wanted so desperately to see the shock on their father's face when Hanzo succeeded- to dare his father to turn his nose up at the fervent dedication of his oldest son. He wanted their father to see Hanzo as person of value and worth- a source of strength in the ancient line of their family, but only for Hanzo's sake. Genji already knew Hanzo was all of these things, and the harder he fought, the harder it became for Genji to resist the urge to shout out to Hanzo in encouragement.
The battle happened in flashes, one moment the two warriors met, blade and bow clashed in an epic clang, and sparks flew for a moment before the two men disappeared. Arrows flew, narrowly missing their target before they were retrieved and the two met once again. Back and forth they danced, skilled fighters engaged in a waves requiring the utmost concentration. The slightest mistake and it could mean the end, and for a moment it seemed Hanzo had the upper hand. An arrow pierced flesh and tore through the dark fabric of the warriors upper thigh. He faltered in his step, but instead of a second arrow to claim the warrior's life, Hanzo appeared before him and brought his bow down upon the warrior with a fierce cry. A final clang rang through the arena, and the warrior was on his knees, struggling to block the sheer force of Hanzo's blow.
The five heads of the clan watched in silence, not a one of them moving to so much as shiver during the battle.
Genji knew Hanzo could have killed the man with a second arrow a move before, and he knew it was no accident that he hadn't. Hanzo saw no reason to take a life without necessity, even in a traditional battle to the death. This warrior's life would be a waste if he were to lose it now.
But just as the battle seemed to be over, it wasn't. Hanzo blinked as the warrior said something Genji couldn't hear, and the next second Hanzo's bow was knocked to the side. The sound of a blade piercing flesh broke the unnerving silence, and a grunt from Hanzo followed as he stared into the burning eyes of the warrior. He gasped as the sword was pulled from his hip in one smooth movement, forcing Hanzo to his knees as pain made his head spin. He had.... lost.
The warrior stood and faced their father, his back to Hanzo with his blade extended to his side.
Genji watched in horror, his breath caught in his throat, as his father stared at the two for what felt like an eternity. Hanzo didn't look up. He steadied his gaze on a point in the floor a few feet in front of him.
He had lost.
Warm blood pooled over the place where his fingers futilely pressed over the font portion of the wound, the blade had pierced him all the way through, and he didn't look at his father. He knew what would come next. His father was not a merciful leader, and there were no second chances with a test like this. He had lost, and he had never felt the ferocity and disappointment in his father's gaze more vividly than in this moment. He was a disgrace. An unworthy Omega who was better off dead in his father's eyes. Hanzo didn't need to look at his father to see it. He'd seen it so many times before, and today he'd proved his father right. His shoulders sank, and it was then Genji knew Hanzo had given up.
The strongest man Genji had ever met and come to admire, had give up.
Their father nodded and turned his face away, just as a cloud of smoke erupted around Hanzo. It wasn't until Genji lept from the rafters and tucked Hanzo's arm over his shoulder that he realized just how hard fought the battle had been. Hanzo's Kyudo-gi was sliced through with superficial cuts that marked various parts of his skin. A few deeper ones left blood dripping down his arms and chest, and one across his cheek would need stitches. Hanzo was breathless and his gaze drifted in and out of focus, so as Genji stood up, and blocked a swipe of a blade that attempted to find it's mark where Hanzo had knelt a moment before with his own, he held most of his brother's weight with ease.
“Why...” Hanzo asked as Genji blocked another swipe and stumbled back, and with a quick leap they were in the rafters and quickly making their escape from one to the next. He didn't answer, and instead felt a wave of pride for thinking ahead and wearing a completely black outfit that only exposed his eyes, protecting his identity from anyone who would accuse him of interfering. He didn't have much time to act, so after making sure they weren't being followed or pursued by anyone- especially the warrior- Genji fled to the only place he knew he could hide Hanzo safely.
“Please be home, please be home, please be home-” Genji begged Jesse once he reached Jesse's front door and pounded violently on it with the hand not curled into Hanzo's side to support him. As they'd traveled Hanzo grew heavier and heavier, and Genji had to struggle not to lose himself in his emotions. He had to be strong for Hanzo, he had to save his brother.
“JESSE! JESSE PLEASE OPEN UP!!!”
“What have you done?” was all Hanzo could ask as his vision blurred. He was bleeding out, he knew that. The blood was now caking and sticking to his fingers as new blood flowed over it and soaked further down his leg. He wondered how Genji knew. He wondered what Genji was trying to do. He was dying. He might as well already be dead.
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How about 9, 11, and 16 for WidowHanzo?
9) What was their worst fight about? Who apologized first & how? Their worst fight came from delving too close to each other’s worst regrets: Hanzo attempting to kill his brother and Amélie killing her husband. After Amélie defected from Talon, she would receive offers from other supposed defected Talon agents who could “help” her condition. Hanzo always thought they sounded like traps, and warned her about being used again to do something she’d regret. She felt like he would never understand what she personally went through and angrily made a comment about how it must have been nice to get a second chance with murder victims. The two went their separate ways after that.Amélie nearly went through with one of the offers but in the end, looked back to Hanzo’s words and while they’d been callous and poor in choice, understood his meaning. Both had unknowingly sought each other out, apologizing for their words and acknowledging that they had no right to touch upon those subjects. Hanzo kept a respectful distance as he laid his apology out but stared her in the eyes the entire time, telling her that he still had his doubts but if she wanted to seek treatment, he’d be there with her. She approached him and the two embraced slowly, simply content with being together again.11) What do they admire the most about the other? Hanzo admires Amélie’s mental fortitude and tenacity - despite having the guilt of being forced to do something horrible to someone she loved, he always believed that she handled herself better than he did when he couldn’t cope with what he did to Genji. She looks forward and doesn’t dwell on the past long because she knows she cannot change what has happened.Amélie respects Hanzo’s honesty. It’s such a refreshing trait for her, especially when she comes across people who try to make excuses for what she did and coddle her, even if she was brainwashed. Hanzo is upfront of his past errors, even as one as grievous as killing his brother. He doesn’t make excuses and doesn’t look for pity - something she admires greatly. 16) Are there children in their future? How many? If not, how did the other respond to *not* wanting children? There was once a time where Amélie in particular felt that children would naturally be part of her life but after everything that’s happened, any desire is void. She’s not sure if the conditioning that Talon put her through left its mark or perhaps some residual guilt for not having been able to experience child-rearing with her husband keeps her from wanting children, but she doesn’t fight it. Hanzo as well, doesn’t seem particularly excited for children and never brings the topic up, with other things constantly pressing on his mind. There are no exchanges of words but they seem to get the feeling that a child isn’t the best option for them - not at the moment, perhaps not ever. In any case, in future instances, they’re satisfied with the contact they have with Hanzo’s brother’s children, and Hanzo has stated that if anything should ever happen to his brother, he would gladly take care of them - that’s good enough for Amélie.
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another prompt! What if McCree was an omnic?
Actually kept this one prompt-sized, ho lee shit.
- - -
Summer sunsets come late in Morocco. It is far past dinner, but Hanzo is not yet home. The cafe near his apartment makes excellent tea, and for awhile, he does not want to think about his next move. And here, in the blue alley, strangers always come along at exactly the right moment.
“You have killed many men,” says Hanzo.
“Sure,” says the bounty hunter in his low Southern drawl.
“And do you regret any of it?”“Regret lots.”
Hanzo tips open the lid of the silver teapot just to see the vapors rise high in the evening humidity. Then he tips it closed again. The brew is not ready. “I regret none of it.”
‘Jesse McCree’ leans back and affects what Hanzo assumes is omnic-body-language for surprise. His leathers and denim criss-cross a burnished frame of steel and bronze. Whoever built him did so with intimidation in mind: its chassis is broad, its slotted eyes inverted like a frown, a skull over the left forearm like an emblazoned shield. Limbs built more like a muscled man than his more spindly modern peers. But he’s also clearly added parts over the years, little humanized touches: tattoos over his chest plate, scratches in his face-framing bronze jaw piece, sharp corners that almost make it look like he has a beard. A garish belt buckle proclaiming exactly what he thinks of himself. Whoever built him installed one odd sense of humor.
Although, it’s been so long since omnics were given rights, it’s perfectly possible that this unit was built by other omnics. Little tin child.
“You really don’t?” says McCree.
“I do what I must. I always have.” Hanzo looks outside the open door, the little blue alleyway. The guitar player singing in the plaza nearby. “And I have suffered for it.”
“Sounds like regret to me.”
“I do not wish my suffering to leave me. I deserve it.”
“How y’figure?”“If I were the son I was supposed to be,” Hanzo mutters, still looking at the guitar player, “I would never have even allowed Genji to go as far as he did. I would have found a way to stop him before killing him was the only option. If I had acted sooner, more decisively… I deserve the pain of his murder. I let it escalate to that point.”“When?”Hanzo looks at McCree. “When, what?”“When exactly would you have made that different choice? How far down the road do you need to go?”Hanzo looks at the tiles on the wall. A few have fallen, replaced by white plaster, but those that remain are beautiful, intricate patterns of yellow, green, blue and white. A single black fly steps over the grout and then buzzes away.“I do not know. I cannot know, now.”
“Then you’re just like everybody else, friend.” McCree leans back in his chair, almost to its tipping point, but does not fall. “All humans ever do is make the best decision they can at the moment they have to. If y’knew better then, y’wouldn’t be where you are now. Hindsight is 20/20 and all that.”“You are not like that. You know everything.”McCree laughs: warm, raucous. Undeniably human. “I sure as shit don’t. I learn, don’t get me wrong – learn a helluva lot faster n’you. But I’ve made my share of bad decisions. Only, I ain’t like you. I can’t forget.” Now he looks out the window at the guitarist. “So, yeah. I got regrets.”
Hanzo looks the omnic up and down. Something inside him bleeds slowly open, like the orange light in the alley just through the door. Sunset’s coming faster.
He looks where the corner of McCree’s serape touches the edge of his sitting pillow and lifts the tip, brushes the frayed edges between his fingers. “You could choose to have it wiped.”
“Naw. No one’s good enough at that to do it without takin’ something else with it. And I won’t risk the good memories.” McCree lifts the tea pot and fills Hanzo’s cup. “I’ll just get more tattoos.”
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Free as a bird
“How’d a guy like you get a name like ‘Sparrow’ anyways?”
The question doesn’t come as a surprise to Genji, especially not after the latest fight he had with his brother. The memory of the fight is not as raw as he anticipated. It’s almost laughable now.
In just ten years Genji nearly forgot just how childish Hanzo could be sometimes. No, he never forgot--he just never noticed it in the first place, too focused on living his life and getting away from the stifling control of his family.
Hanzo has always been like that, getting hung up over the stupidest things like the perceived favoritism in the form of a single word. Sometimes he can't believe he had such anger toward someone as petty as his brother. (Though anyone would be angry at nearly losing their life.)
Genji turns away from McCree, staring out past the balcony of the seedy hotel.
Yes, the same type of seedy hotels that Genji would have found himself getting dragged out of by his angry brother.
Going back home is always a bit of a spectacle. The morning would still be gray and the streets filled with the elderly and people who have to walk their dogs or other pets in the morning. Very few people dare look the racoon-eyed Hanzo in the face (especially if he had a fist curled in Genji's shirt collar--if he was lucky enough to have one on), subtly making way for the two Shimada heirs and the occasional guard who trails along, pretending to do their job.
It’s a routine almost as old as his puberty.
Genji would fuck off in the middle of the night after training, hanging out with whatever ‘friends’ were fearless enough to accompany the second Shimada heir to a club or bar or whatever he felt like doing that night. It would be near dawn before Hanzo would bust in, signalling the end of his fun. Genji never really knew how Hanzo found him--he was so sure to destroy any tracking devices he found on his belongings (sometimes dumping everything but his underwear and pants into the river all together, sometimes putting it on a stray dog or a bird, always checking and making sure his fun cannot end early). Genji chalked it up to ‘mysterious older brother senses’. Either way, Hanzo would drag him back home to their father.
This time was no different than any other.
The two of them stood in his father’s office, Hanzo at attention and Genji still yawning with his pants unbuttoned and Y-shirt crumpled from people grabbing at it. Without even a greeting, their father waved his hand at Hanzo in dismissal.
「You may go.」
Obediently, Hanzo bowed, taking his leave with a deep scowl. The grinding of his jaw echoed in the room and Genji could even swear he heard Hanzo’s fists tightening. Genji didn’t really care that his brother was annoyed or lacking sleep--it was Hanzo’s decision to come after him instead of sleeping. If only they’d leave him alone, maybe neither of them would have to suffer so much.
The door shut quietly behind Hanzo, allowing silence to settle between Sojiro and his youngest son.
Sojiro put both his arms into the sleeves of his happi.「Out late again, young dragon?」
Genji put his arms behind his heads and grinned despite the glare his father was giving him.
「You know it, old man.」
「What caught your fancy this time?」
「Hah. There was this great DJ playing over the net at the club owned by Yashiro. He looks like he’s twelve, but he’s good! He’s going to be big one day. 」
Genji rambled on and on about the club and DJ with reckless abandon. It wasn’t as though his father was curious about Genji’s night--he just wanted Genji to feel bad and say that he was ‘sorry for being irresponsible and he’ll be more prudent in the future’ or some bullshit.
He held up a hand.「Genji. A dragon does not indulge in such frivolous activities or mingle so easily with...those people. When will you learn to be responsible?」
‘Those people’ was Sojiro-talk for ‘plebians’. He was still adamant that their blood was superior because they supposedly descended from ‘dragons’. It’s a well-practiced and well-learned speech that Genji has heard enough that he could probably recite it by heart and would probably find it carved into his gravestone if he happened to die before their father. (Not that he’ll let that happen.)
Rolling his eyes, he decided he no longer wanted to listen and put up a middle finger. "Kiss my ass, old man.”
One of his English speaking friends taught him that. A useful phrase if only for the imagery. Genji could feel a little proud of himself for rendering his father speechless. Sojiro’s eyes widened and breath deepened, a sure sign that he did not expect whatever Genji said.
The swell of victory is accompanied by the song of birds outside the wooden window sill.
A sparrow. Common in these parts.
But Genji could see the light in his father's eyes. He curled a hand beneath his jaw, settling a little deeper into his seat and Genji almost wanted to roll his eyes. His father only ever did that when he thinks he's thought of something clever. (It's almost never clever and usually spelled out humiliation for many people.)
Father never used English if he didn’t have to. Or any other language. Of course, he was perfectly fluent in English (and Mandarin, and Cantonese, and Korean, and Taiwanese, and a little bit of Tagalog, and at least four very different dialects of Japanese--all standard in this household), but he preferred to keep his cards close, skillfully showing one at a time when the situation calls for it. (Watching the blood drain out of the face of a rival gang's leader after Sojiro laughed at a snide comment delivered in Tohoku-dialect was extremely satisfying.)
‘Everything a Shimada does must be done with purpose’ is what his father taught him when he was young. His father calling him ‘Sparrow’ in English is no coincidence.
「What, Father?」 Genji didn’t hesitate to throw the slight back. 「Forgetting how to use Japanese at your age? Unsightly.」
「Hmph.」 There was an amused twinkle to his father’s crinkled eyes. 「The words of foreigners are good enough for you, Sparrow. If you feel that you cannot be a dragon, then you are no better than a common bird.」In Genji’s ears, he only heard the sounds of a line being drawn.
A sparrow is nimble.
A sparrow is free.
A sparrow can be crushed in one hand.
Fine, if his father wanted to ridicule him with a word like ‘Sparrow’, then he shouldn't mind if Genji took one of his teacher's lessons to heart.
The best way to disarm a weapon like that is to take it as his own and wear it as his armor.
Sojiro called him ‘Sparrow’ at any chance he got. Genji wore the name with pride.
‘I am my father’s cute, little sparrow.’
Not a fearsome, powerful dragon of legend, but a weak, common creature of insignificance.
The imagery is powerful.
Ever since the name became known, the notch between Hanzo's brows only grew deeper, the scowl almost permanent. It’s almost hilarious to see, and since Hanzo didn’t bother asking for an explanation, Genji never bothered clearing up the likely misunderstanding that was developing in Hanzo’s overactive mind.
The name spread to the other employees within the Shimada’s employ. Without knowing the meaning behind it or the origin, they all parroted it, taking small pleasure in the seemingly cute nickname. Genji encouraged it, referring to himself as ‘Sparrow’ in place of his own name.
It’s another thorn in his stern father’s side.
Genji didn’t expect his father to put up with having his own jest thrown back in his face. He was always every bit proud of being ‘descendants of dragons’ as his brother was.
So it came as no surprise when the daily morning routine shifted.
「I was just in Kyoto. Did you know what I found in the stands there?」
There was only one real reason why his father would mention Kyoto if it’s not work-related.Genji shrugged, feigning ignorance.
「Was it some cute maikos? You know, if you give them my name at the Gion Hatanaka ryokan--」
Sojiro ignored his son’s nonsense and produced a small take-out container with--he guessed it--a gnarly display of two perfectly grilled sparrows. Kyoto was the last prefecture to still sell skewered sparrows on sticks, after all.
But the message is clear: Keep it up and you too will end up like that.
Genji just took one and bit into it, the crunch reverberating in the room and he stared his father down. He’d love to see his father try.
Luckily he didn't have to.
Their father, Shimada Sojiro, died in his sleep not too long after--a more graceful death than anyone who acts like him deserves.
(Flipping off his father's gravestone as he escaped the castle is almost a habit.)
As everyone expected, his brother was designated the new leader of the Shimada clan.
Genji took to his namesake more than ever--disappearing and making a home out in town more often than he stopped by the castle. There was nothing tying him down. He could be free and live his life however he wanted and actually be a part of the present, a part of the world, not tied down by decrepit ‘traditions’ or the stories his father so desperately clung to even in his final moments.
His brother did not take kindly to Genji’s absence, claiming the household is in shambles because of Genji’s flightiness. Apparently there were still some idiots left who clung onto the hope that Genji might still possibly lead the clan. A stupid thought that offends Genji as much as Hanzo.
Each time Hanzo would grab Genji and bring him home, Genji would say, 「Don’t you know it’s illegal to keep wild animals like sparrows as pets? 」before slipping out again. Escaping was almost second nature to Genji by this point. Everything he’s learned in his training for assassination was being honed just so that Genji could finally leave.
The final time before Hanzo’s attempt on Genji’s life, they sat down (well, Genji wasn’t there by choice) to talk. Hanzo was clearly fed up with the disrespect and overloaded with the responsibility and mocking whispers of his incompetence (“What sort of leader can be trusted to control a clan when he cannot even control one person?” “Maybe Hanzo is the wrong choice, maybe the position should go to someone else.” “Why does the leader let his brother debauch the Shimada name? Is he looking for the family to fall?”)
「When will you stop being a child? You have all that you could want here--power, respect, wealth--why leave? If you took your position seriously, we could rule all of Japan, we could have an empire.」
Hanzo was tired, Genji could see it in the way his tensed shoulders slumped, could hear it in his voice. He didn’t look like the proud dragon he’s always boasted himself to be. He looked like the shadow of their father. But only that--just a shadow.
A dragon stays within its castle walls. Mighty as it is, it will only ever know its palace and the bottom of the sea. A sparrow, though small and insignificant, can make a home anywhere and fly anywhere, free of obligation. Though the name was supposed to make fun of Genji, he thinks it’s probably the best thing his father has ever said about him.
「I don’t want any of that. I want to be a sparrow.」Hanzo snarled, a hateful look crossing his face.「And a sparrow does not belong in a crumbling castle.」
「This Shimada castle, crumbling? Foolish.」
「Which of us is really the foolish one, brother?」
It was one of the last things he said to his brother before the night Hanzo decided to end everything. In a way, Genji almost became a dragon again--consumed by hate and revenge, he was trapped in a crumbling castle known as his mind.
But now, things are different. He is different.
Genji takes a thoughtful sip of his cider and waves the bottle at the scenery before them.
“My father, Sojiro, called me that as an insult.” He meets McCree’s sudden incredulous look with a cheeky grin. “I’ve grown to like it.”
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The Dragon and the Tigress Part 1/4
To Hanzo you were both an enigma and an elusive idea. All of his life he was trained to be nothing but loyal to you but yet how could he be loyal to you when the only thing he knew of you was that you, yourself had chosen him personally. He vaguely remembers the quiet smugness when he and his father were informed of this once newfound knowledge, Sojiro had trained and strongly ensured that he was nothing but perfection when it came to the art of becoming a queensguard but despite his prodigal skill Hanzo himself at the time was still a mere juvenile. His family, the Shimada Clan were both well known for its lethal ferocity as well their uncorrupted loyalty to your family generation after generation and even now as a man he can recount the numerous tales his father told him of how his great great great grandfather refused numerous offers of grandiose wealth in exchange for either one of your great great great grandparents heads or how only your family alone can develop such a deeply personal sense of camaraderie with their dragons.
At times Hanzo had wondered what they had felt when his long dead family members felt the connection with yours this reason being is that he himself had never formally met you nor fought alongside you like those before him and you. And there were times were Hanzo himself as a juvenile for what feels like ages ago had felt a tinge of resentment towards not only you and your family but his as well, why should he have his life already decided long before he was born but not only that how is fair that his idiotic brother should feel more freedom than him?. But those short termed yet bitter feelings of resentment were always cut short when he immediately understood that irregardless of his feelings he was still bound by duty to protect not only you but your title as Empress of the Rosa empire. Despite his feelings of freedom from duty the last thing he wanted to do was shame his family nor break such a profoundly unique bond with your family, especially you. He had no desire to break the soon to be profound bound with you for the simple reason being is that he did not want to fail his family nor break tradition but Hanzo knew there was something more to it, he just didn’t fully know.
Hanzo hated the conflicting feelings he about you and he felt like he was the only one out of all of his family members to feel such confliction, all of his life his father had told how resolute those before him have been before him when it concerned becoming a queensguard. He wanted the choice to choose his fate and control his own destiny but the thought of disgracing his family and name had vanquished those hopes of total freedom from duty to your family. But why did he want to see you so badly? Was it too see if you were worth protecting? Why was he being kept from you if he should protect you? It was all these conflicting feelings that he had kept bottled up inside of him that caused his dragons to quietly stir with anxiousness but even he knew that they had willingly kept themselves at bay.
While Hanzo had never formally met you due to “tradition” he had often clung to the stories of you told to him by his elders whom had known you far more better than him, they had told him tales of your countless suitors, your near godlike prowess, and most admirable humble nature and demure beauty. But it was the boldest of his elders that had struck him to the core when they told him such keen observation of your eyes it was almost to the point where even he can see them in the reflection in the mirror. They told him that looking into your eyes was like feeling ice in your veins but it was the peculiarities of them that had him even more curious it was told that whenever you looked into the face of imminent death it burned with such rage it could even make the strongest most ferocious of fighters quake with fear.
How could such descriptions of you contradict so much? Were you this bold demure beauty? Or were you a warrior with such god like prowess that even the slight look of anger can make the best of them quake with fear?. And yet despite these obvious contradictions when it came to the stories told of you he himself did not want to question whether his elders were either telling him the truth no matter how bad he had wanted to know more about you, this had only dug him even further into the black hole of confliction.
But perhaps there was a way of not fully breaking tradition but yet still upholding the sanctity of it by writing a letter, his father had passed and for the short time being he is the head of the family until Genji fully matures into a capable leader of the Shimada Clan so that he can move to your estate and so that he may fully become your queensguard so while the window is still open to him and there is no one that he has to answer he will use this opportunity to his full advantage. So in his most privatest of moments that he both coveted and cherished he sat silently in his quarters with a pen and paper laying boldly in front of him, it was nerve wracking truthfully how should he write to you? What should he say to you? Would a simple “hello” suffice to someone with such an esteemed title? But the nervous feelings don’t truly matter because at this moment he was going to see who you are for himself so he wrote.
Hello my name is Hanzo Shimada but I am sure you already know that and perhaps you’re wondering why am I writing you especially when it concerns the highly regarded and strictly enforced tradition by both of our families. But I suppose that me attempting contact with you isn’t really breaking tradition since we cannot see one another but writing letters mean no such harm right?....if you do not wish to write back or even respond than I will take no offence to this and we can pretend this never happened...I am nervous as you can tell. The purpose of me writing to you is that I wish to know you all of my life I’ve been told nothing but elusive tales of you that had always left me in a deep hole curiosity,
I know that I’m bound by duty to serve you as your queensguard...forgive me for being to brash but how could I truly be loyal to you if I don’t even know you?. Loyalty is important yes but it must be built on some type of knowledge and trust of one another and all that I know of you is that you chose me specifically...so why did you? And who are you truly? Are you truly as great as my elders tell me or are they merely telling me so that I may blindly follow you. I want to know my purpose to you so that I may know firsthand the deep bond that our families share with one another and I know that my questions and statements may seem too “callous” or too “treasonous” but I have no wish to give you any sort of impression that I’m a traitor to you or the empire or disrespect you of any sort. I just simply wish to you. Please write back to me if you wish.
With best regards,
@viviandarko SO SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT!!!
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Just a Phone Call Away Ch. 9 (A McHanzo Au)
Chapter 9: Betrayal
The wedding rehearsal had gone very smoothly and a celebratory dinner back at the mansion was to be had for it. Everyone had expected something to come to fruition but thankfully nothing had done so much to Hanzo's relief.
Jesse was thankful to see Hanzo relaxing and becoming more friendly with the family that he was scared to be aroused. He enjoyed Hanzo's company a lot more as well when he was in a better mood of course, but then again who wasn't.
While Hanzo was off doing some duties as the best man with as many last minute details before the wedding could he had for the next day, Jesse took the time to sit down with their mother, Ana for some casual conversation.
“So tell me, how did you and Reindhardt meet?” he asked curiously, taking a seat next to her, slowly taking the food offered to him and making a face which he quickly hid.
An oyster. He hated shellfish so much, but it would be rude if he didn't take something offered to him especially from the woman who might be his future mother in law.
“Oh that old story?” she asked with a chuckle, crossing her legs. “That honestly is such a boring story. How about I tell you about when we first met the boys?”
“Sure,” Jesse said as he leaned back in his chair, uncomfortable in the button down shirt that he wore. “I'd love to hear all of the stories.”
“Quite the charmer aren't you,” Ana chuckled but smiled, taking the tea pot that sat next to them and poured them both a cup of tea.
“It's what they tell me ma'am.”
Ana smiled at that and rest the cup in her hands. “Well it was at the orphanage where we first met them. They were inseparable from what we could see. It didn't surprise us though that the younger one was more outspoken and more open. Poor Hanzo has been the quiet type ever since he was a little boy. Hasn't changed much.”
“Wouldn't have him any other way,” Jesse said with a small nod causing the smile on Ana's face to grow even further. He was glad that he was making her happy. After everything and with things continuing to go well for the both of them then it would be an easy time for him to settle in with the family.
“Me too Jesse,” she said. “He is a wonderful son and I only want what is best for him. It is a real shame what happened to him and I am happy that he has found someone again that can bring him happiness. True happiness.”
Jesse nodded his head. After what he had heard from Genji himself it was inevitable that Hanzo deserved so much more than he let on.
He had never gotten an chance to tell him what had happened either. After the picnic they had gone right to the rehearsal.
“But as time went on we noticed quite a few things have changed and you probably have noticed as well. Genji always pushed himself to be ahead and ended up putting a strain between him and his brother. Unfortunately that still is happening today.”
“I am sorry to hear that. I do hope that I would be able to help him. I do have an odd question. I had wanted to ask if I can continue with dating your son?”
Ana smirked ,reaching over and pouring more tea into his cup and then patting his hand lightly, looking to the shellfish that still sat on the plate Jesse had. “Nothing would make me happier if you were to make Hanzo happy. Now eat your fish, I don't want to see it go to waste.”
Jesse made another small face and picked it up, taking it into his mouth and nearly gagged on it. He pushed through it however, swallowing it and setting the plate down.
“Delicious.” he said weakly.
“Another?” she asked as she held out the plate of food again. Jesse quickly shook his head, nearly getting sick again.
“No thank you. Don't want to ruin my appetite.”
“You know boys, I was talking with Jesse earlier about how the relationship between you has changed. Do you remember that big turning point?” Ana asked from the foot of the table, her husband sitting at the head of it.
“Oh that stupid story?” Hanzo asked with a roll of his eyes, settling in closer to the man that sat next to him. Jesse kissed his cheek, his arms resting around him. Now that they seemed to have something more between them it was much easier to show the affection in front of the other members of the family. It didn't feel forced like it had been when they had first gotten there.
“Do we really need to be bringing this up now?” Hanzo sighed.
“Well I just thought you would like to share a story with your new boyfriend Hanzo,” Ana said with a small shrug.
Hanzo sighed and looked across the table at his brother. It felt nice to be able to reconnect with him a little bit. It gave promise to the future. Though honestly he had wished his mother would bring this up a different time when things weren't going so well. He didn't want to think back on the past like that. He only wanted to look at the future.
Unfortunately the past would always be there to haunt him in ways that he couldn't even imagine. The past was going to put up a fight before it would let him go.
Genji shifted uncomfortably next to his fiance but then shrugged his shoulders at him, silently asking for confirmation to tell the tale.
With everyone's attention on the two of them it wouldn't be easy not to tell them, so Hanzo nodded his head.
“There was a girl that Hanzo really liked when we were little and he was pretty sure that she liked him back,” Genji said with a small shrug, seeming to not really like the story as much as Hanzo did. It was understandable. Their mother tended to bring it up whenever the family was together, thinking it was a good idea.
“She had, but then one day she wanted to play with Genji more than she wanted to play with me,” Hanzo laughed. Thinking back on it now it was ridiculous.
If only he knew just how true things were with a certain woman.
“Well tears were shed, fights were had and in the end she ended up moving away,” Reinhardt finished the story for his sons. “They have been at odds ever since.”
“Until now,” Hanzo said, speaking up, raising his glass and rising to his feet. He grinned at his brother and his future wife. “I know we've fought quite a bit over the years but these past few days really have opened up my eyes. Genji, Angela, I really do look forward to the future and I hope that I can be a part of the family once again.”
Everyone raised their glasses again, cheering them before all taking a sip. As Hanzo sat back down however Jesse shifted closer to him to whisper into his ear.
“I really do need to talk to you,” he whispered to him.
“In a moment,” Hanzo said as he rose from the table, taking up the empty soda bottles. “I'm going to go get some more things to drink.”
Jesse hesitated but then let out a sigh, nodding his head as he watched Hanzo leave. He started to rise from his chair to go speak with him then when he noticed Ashe having got up and followed after Hanzo herself.
His eyes narrowed a frown settling on his face. What was she up to?
Hanzo set the empty bottles down on the counter and then went to the fridge to grab some more, thinking over what he should bring out next for the family.
“Hanzo,” came Ashe's voice.
Hanzo turned to her as he made his choices, tucking one of the three bottles he had grabbed under his arm. “Something I can help you with Ashe?”
“I wanted to get a chance to talk to you again. I tried before but we kept getting interrupted. This really needs to come out...before tomorrow.”
Hanzo let out a sigh. He had an idea of what this was about. She was still in love with him and hated seeing him with Jesse. While the old him would have loved this sort of attention and would have taken her back with open arms, but the man he was now was having feelings for someone else, seeing Ashe for who she truly was.
An evil woman who played with his heart.
“Ashe, I know what you're going to say,” he said with a frown, crossing his arms as he set the bottles down.
“You do?” she asked warily, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.
“Yes. You want to get back together with me, but I'm sorry. I'm with Jesse now,” he said confidently, picking up the bottles again and then head back towards the doorway. “Now come on, let's go back outside before they serve dinner.”
“I slept with your brother,” was her reply.
Hanzo stopped dead in his tracks feeling as if an icy chill had gone up his spine. It was a worst nightmare coming true. She had slept with Genji. Of course she had slept with Genji. He always took whatever Hanzo had and made it his own. What was next? Was he suddenly going to develop feelings for Jesse and take him too?
Like the little girl from when they were children as a play mate to his own ex fiance. He was surprised how shocked he was. He should have seen this coming all along.
“It was when we were engaged. I slept with your brother...quite frequently actually. And then just one day he dumped me for Angela. I hurts to know that he's still going through the wedding even if I told him that I still have strong feelings for him, you know,” she said with a frown, wrapping her arms around herself.
Hanzo turned his eyes to her, eyes blazing in anger. Was she trying to make herself the victim? Not only did she destroy their chance of getting married but now she was trying to destroy another marriage between Genji and Angela.
He was still very angry at Genji by all means, it takes two to tango, but he knew that most of this blame was on Ashe.
But who else knew about this? Was this was what Jesse was trying to warn him about? He wished he had stopped to listen to him when he asked then it wouldn't have come from Ashe at all like this. But that is when it clicked to him.
The reason why everyone but seemingly Genji and Angela treated Ashe like the terrible woman she was. They knew. They all knew and hadn't told him.
Anger swelled within him. He felt betrayed that no one had told him that this was happening. He could have saved years of heartache and pining for a woman who had cheated on him and had been able to stay connected with most of his family.
“Please say something,” Ashe begged. “I really am sorry for what had happened between us. I want to make this right.”
“Don't talk to me ever again,” he snapped at her, storming out of the kitchen and heading back towards the doors. Upon seeing the frown on his face Sombra quickly ran to his side, taking the bottles from him.
“She told you,” she said, glaring at Ashe who came running up behind but Hanzo backed away from Sombra, shaking his head to her as he looked around all of his family.
Genji was up next, his skin pale. “Hanzo, can we please talk about this?” he asked, his voice rising with panic. But Hanzo ignored him, going right into the arms of Jesse.
“I was trying to tell you,” he whispered, Hanzo nodding his had weakly. He knew he had tried his best but Hanzo hadn't listened.
“I can't believe you told him,” Genji sneered at Jesse, the other male putting Hanzo behind him. “You said you would keep it a secret.”
“Just like everyone else had?” Hanzo retorted, staring out at the people he called his family. “Just hoping that one day it would disappear? Well I don't think it ever will especially with how she has been acting.”
He turned away from them, storming away from them with Jesse behind him.
Angela rose to her feet, resting her arm on Genji's arm. “Darling, what's going on? Hanzo looks very upset.”
Genji looked to his future bride and smiled softly, resting his arm around her shoulders. “Nothing love. Just a little dispute over the wedding.”
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Burning Bright [Hanzo-Centric, Slight Hanzo/Reader]
I felt like that there was no need for conversation
Some questions are better left unreasoned
Callused hands gripped the expensive sake vessel, lifting it in a well-practiced movement, pouring a thin stream of the clear liquid into a matching sake cup. There was perhaps no need for the whole bottle. Yet.
For now, he could still pretend to have a sense of control and moderation.
And I would rather reveal myself than my situation
Now and then I consider my hesitation
Cup to his lips, Hanzo downed the alcohol in one swift movement, his hands automatically moving in perfect motion to perform yet another pour.
The more the light shines through me
I pretend to close my eyes
Yare, yare how did he end up here. He’s been through this a million times, ran through all the scenarios, the choices and decisions. Drank more than his lifetime’s share of sake. Cheap. Expensive. Rare. Common. Watered down. He must have tasted them all in his quest to forget. Or perhaps to remember.
The more the dark consumes me
I pretend I’m burning bright
He was here now. Far away from Hanamura, years apart from the scene that haunted his memories. Sitting, no less, in the base of an organization that was once highly venerated only to fall from grace. Fate’s irony? Perhaps, but Overwatch was rising again. Did it mean he would rise with it? No. He did not have ties with it, save for one frayed thread.
I wonder if the things I did were just to be different
To spare myself of the constant shame of my existence
This Genji had seemed happy to see him when Hanzo had first stepped into the base. But the archer would never forget. He had crossed paths with his brother once before, back when he was still in Blackwatch. Till the day his last breath leaves his body and his soul was judged by whichever power saw fit, Hanzo could never forget how those crimson eyes burned with hatred. He would never know how they did not come to blows that day. Or whether he would have cast his bow aside and let his brother have his revenge, as was his right. Those eyes, now hidden behind a helmet, may still hold the very same look.
Hanzo was told Genji’s eyes was now back to his original brown.
I would surely redeem myself in desperation
Here and now I express my situation
He could never stand to be near Genji now. Every single time his brother came close, start a conversation, glanced his way… he could not… he could not help but analyse over and over again every single action, every single word, every single second of silence. What was he thinking? What were his motives? What were his feelings?
Hanzo wanted to rip that fucking helmet off
...Did he still look the same?
There’s nothing ever wrong, but nothing’s ever right
Such a cruel contradiction
They knew. The whole of Overwatch knew the history between the both of them. At least, the basics of it. The most damned important part of it. And they still smiled at him. Still tried to talk to him. Still tried to become friends with him.
Still… fell in love with him.
I know I crossed the line, it’s not easy to define
I born to indecision
He pushed, and pushed and pushed. And they pulled right back. Wrapped him in their arms. They knew didn’t they? He had snapped and asked. Yes. But you were not who you were. Who he was? He threw back his head and laughed, a sound filled with such bitterness and pain. Who he was, was a born and bred assassin, his weapons sharpened with his heart till there was not a shred of it left. A merciless monster they wanted, and a merciless monster they got. It wasn’t enough, it was never enough. And he, was never enough.
And yet they all looked at him with kind eyes.
There’s always something new
Some path I’m supposed to choose
With no particular rhyme or reason
The monk, his brother’s teacher was perhaps the worst of all. You are free to make your choices, hummed the omnic. Choices? The blade embedded dangerously close to the monk’s head.
Calm as can be the monk said
Genji did that too.
The more the light shines through me
I pretend to close my eyes
A roar of rage ripped through his throat as he flung the cup against the far wall, followed closely by the vessel. He surged up and slammed his fist against the nearest wall, once, twice and again, his mouth opened in a wordless yell.
The more the dark consumes me
I pretend I’m burning bright
The dragon stirred in his anger, the room began to be illuminated in the blue fury of a man so lost.
Hanzo didn’t hear the door slam open as you rushed into the room and took in the scene before you. He didn’t see the expression on your face nor see you cross the room to him. He only felt your arms wrap around him and his body stiffen. He only felt his body turn around and bury his face into your neck as he cried uncontrollably and your hand moved gently and soothingly up and down his back.
Why do you love me?
Why do you accept me?
Why did Genji forgive me?
Why… am I here?
Those were the words he wanted to utter but remained unspoken.
I feel like there’s no need for conversation.
A/N - Song Lyrics from : Burning Bright (Sanford Mix) by Shinedown (if you want to listen to it while reading!). So this was a fic/drabble that I've wanted to write for a long while now and have rewritten it several times till I'm somewhat satisfied with it, though I may drop a few edits in the future. You might have noticed that it shares the same name as my blog, which is partially because the song means a lot to me (it has helped me through the times I've felt conflicted), and partially because I felt the song, too, fits Hanzo's struggle. Yeah, I'm not sure what else to say XD, but I hope you enjoy it. Cheers with Love.
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