The night breeze comes rushing at you, salt and morning dew enveloping your senses the moment you throw open the warehouse door. Greedily, you breathe it all in, the chilly air waking you up, confirming that this is all real.
Taking the first few steps onto uneven earth, you gaze up into the night sky. Thousands of stars, vaster than your eyes can contain, wink, welcoming you back beneath their presence. You open your arms as though you could embrace the half moon that hangs in the air, unobstructed by wires or bed frames or the sticky guilt that suffocates you. Blood runs wild through your rusty veins, your muscles sing, and your weary joints pop at the stretch. The rush almost makes you lightheaded, but the air, the space, the freedom is just too delicious.
Slowly, you exhale, allowing the night settle on you.
IT TOOK FOUR MONTHS HOLY SHIT THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR YOUR PATIENCE
I was also starting to lose hope, but thank you, several comments (unrelated to TWtaH but was still about Hanzo) brought me back to life. Thank you, thank you.Â
Tracerâs and LĂşcioâs arrival brings in the morning sun and an amount of supplies that could only be bought on a superstarâs salary. Well, thatâs an exaggeration, but Winston treated it as such, calling down every awake and able member on base to come down and help unload them and the overwhelming mountain of gifts from LĂşcioâs adoring fans. (When Hanzo first set eyes on it, he was sure itâd topple over him and that would be his deathâburied by the overwhelming show of affection for another.)
Sourly, Hanzo notes the disproportionate number of bodies present to those he knows is on base. Soldier and Tracer spend their time bickering near the pilotâs seat instead of helpingâsomething about bringing the gifts back to Brazil immediatelyâand he wants nothing to do with that, spending as little time away from the ramp and ship as possible in case Soldierâs argument wins out and the Orca suddenly flies off on a ten-plus hour flight across the equator with him in it.
âYour timing couldnât be more impeccable,â Winston says cheerfully to a passing LĂşcio as he loads one of many heavy crates onto a trolley. âWe just finished doing an inventory check and found that we were very short on supplies and our monetary support is temporarily unavailable and suspended indefinitely, so all of this couldnât have come at a better time.â
@ all my fellow fic writers, I hope 2019 blesses you with inspiration, motivation and time to write, and your inboxes and messages are flooded with lovely comments and feedback/reviews
I was really on the fence about actually posting this, because this account is basically only good for gathering dust nowadays, but everybody else is doing it SO
For the secret santa exchange I got @imagine-this-overwatch, who wanted some Lucio goodness and I can only hope this was satisfactory. Merr crisis, CeeJay :9
From the outset of your relationship, you knew that being with LĂşcio would involve certain concessions. Given that he was an activist, an international superstar, and an agent of the newly reformed Overwatch, you knew you wouldnât be able to have as much of his time as you wished you could. But understanding didnât make it hurt any less, even if the two of you always worked hard to ensure that whatever time you were able to spend together was special.
You spent the last couple weeks of his most recent tour counting down the days until heâd be back on base and you would both be free to spend time together â even if just for a little while, until your work took you in different directions again. Your conversations always focused on plans for what you would do once you were reunited, peppered with I miss youâs and all manner of endearments until he was inevitably dragged away by the next person who needed him.
And two days before he was due back home, you woke with an ominous tickle in your throat.
âNo,â you groaned out. âNo no no no noâŚ!â
You shortly found yourself in the kitchen chugging down the last of the orange juice, with a note of promise to whoever had bought it to replace it on the next supply run. You then ran toward the infirmary â intent on finding some cold medicine or anything that could hold off whatever illness was brewing inside of you â but found the door locked.
âDue to several accounts of missing inventory,â Athena chimed in, after your numerous attempts to open the door. âDoctor Zieglerâs office is to remain closed while she is off-base, except in cases of medical emergency.â
âAthena, I cannot get sick right now, I just need something to get me through the next couple of days, and thatâs all! Please!â
â...Very well, I will contact Doctor Ziegler.â
Your expression soured, but it was better than nothing.
âThank you.â
Hardly a minute passed before Athena spoke again.
âDoctor Ziegler recommends you get plenty of rest and stay hydrated, and reminds you that she will be back tomorrow, at which time she will see about treating your⌠condition.â
With an exasperated growl, you stormed down to the gym, determined that if you couldnât medicate it, you could at least sweat it out. You worked out until your limbs turned leaden, and collapsed into a sweaty, dreamless sleep back in your room.
That night, when LĂşcio called, you had to poorly hide a sudden coughing fit in the crook of your arm. Once your breathing had stabilized, you heard his concerned voice calling to you.
âIâm fine, Iâm fine! Just, uh, water went down the wrong way! Haha...â
Which he at least couldnât refute because youâd had the foresight to opt out of a video call, considering your circumstance.
âCanât wait to see you.â
âMe neither.â You swallowed against the literal ache in your throat. âI miss you so much.â
âI miss you too. But, hey! One more night, and Iâll be right there with you.â
Unfortunately, once tomorrow came, you found yourself clinging to your toilet bowl for dear life, attempting to get Athenaâs attention in between heaves. Luckily - or about the only lucky thing you even had going for you - Athena was keyed in to all agents vital signs, and soon enough, Angela came sweeping into your room, recently returned to base.
âWhat happened to you?â
You stared at her from your slumped position on the floor with thinly veiled irritation, face blotchy and sweat-drenched, and upon opening your mouth all that would emerge was a strained, squeaky croak.
â...Oh dear.â
Once she had seen about treating any of your immediate issues, she condemned you to bed rest and fluids until you had rode out whatever infection was plaguing you. You spent an indeterminate amount of time in a feverish, half-conscious haze, still disoriented by the time you came mostly-to at the sound of someone requesting entrance to your room.
Your hopes that the LĂşcio standing in your doorway was a dehydration induced hallucination were dashed when he hesitantly stepped into the room.
âHey, how you feeling? Ange told me what was up and I rushed back as soon as I -â
âNo!â you managed to shout, but it launched you straight into a series of hoarse coughs, during which LĂşcio made his way to your side, perched delicately at the edge of your bed.
âListen, if youâre worried about getting me sick, she already said you werenât contagious anymore.â
âItâs not -â Your eyes stung, unsure if it was from strain or from disappointment, as you fought with your own body to speak. âWhat about⌠the plan?â
âOh.â For a moment, he sounded as disappointed as you felt, but he immediately brightened back up and gave you a smile. âDonât even worry about it, we can always reschedule.â
âBut you were⌠really looking forward to this,â you croaked, eyes watering again, though you were certain tears were actually involved this time.
âBaby, I look forward to seeing you.â He began to rub comforting circles into your leg. âEven if youâre like this. The plans we make arenât nearly as important as that.â
He â bravely â leaned in to kiss your forehead.
âWeâve got all the time in the world for fancy dates later on. Right now, letâs focus on getting you better.â
It was definitely tears this time. You sniffled loudly, and on reflex LĂşcio passed you a tissue from your side table.
â...I love you.â
âLove you too.â
â...Think you can... throw together a sexy nurse outfit before I make a full recovery?â
He laughed, tossing his hair over his shoulder. âOh, Iâm sure I can work something out.â
This is my piece for the Secret Santa Event that the lovely @overdrivels and @demialwrites organized! Thank you so much! I got to write for @dickbutt-writes-again who had lovely Hanzo prompts!
Hanzo/Reader
780 Words
Rating: General | No Warnings
Hanzo had never used public transportation before meeting you. Had never needed to. But you preferred the train over the Shimada clanâs drivers, and that meant Hanzo rode with you. He felt ridiculous, standing stiffly at the back of the crowded train car as you huddled into his chest. He didnât understand. It took nearly an hour to get home when taking the train, as opposed to the 25 minutes in the car, but you insisted.
SHIT THIS WAS TOUGH. OKAY. FINALLY. Next chapter, I am excited because thatâs when shit hits the fan.
Thanks as always to dickbutt for enduring my screaming.
<<Chapter 12
ăTalon. Five grunts. Have not emerged since 03:40. Civilians potentially involved.ă
He marks down their locations on pen and paper and in a shorthand near extinct in the age of handheld devices and advanced recording technology. Despite what some people say, traditional methods have their place in the current world.
(Long ago, he nor Genji had a love for stenography, but their father insisted and their mother encouraged it. He had wanted to please them both and worked hard at it, earning his motherâs gracious praise even though she was so much better: writing without skipping a beat or pause, fluid against paper like breathing. She awed him.
Itâs fair to say his mother was proficient at anything resembling the arts or dealt with graceâmartial arts, even, was a dance to her and dance, a martial artâoverly attentive and focused just so, exceeding deliberate at everything from the tilt of her face to the inch of her step; the very model Yamato Nadeshiko with a gentle and endearing Kyoto accent that disguised a raging river and a passion. Warm and still at times, cold and unstoppable at others. A force to be feared by the clan, and a person to be respected and loved by her family. Distant as her memory is, he remembers the songs she used to sing with their fatherâhe doubts Genji would remember; he was too young, too flippant to sit still and listen to their motherâs rich voice, too young to miss it. Too young to have missed her like Hanzo does.)
With a pensive sigh though his nose and a single rub at his aching eyes, he continues his notes until they are detailed to his satisfaction, briefly interrupted by his raising binoculars to his eyes.
Me and @overdrivels have decided to run a Secret Santa this year, but with short fanfics instead of presents!
You must be willing to give me your email and your username in order to sign up. This is so I can contact you if need be and also so I can be the middle man to sending you your gift fic!
The minimum amount of words we would like you to write is 500, and the max is 1000ish. When you sign up, please provide three different prompts in the Google form linked below. This in the case of, for example, your secret santa is uncomfortable with writing smut and prefer to write you something fluffy. The prompts donât have to be holidays-related.
The deadline for signing up is December 8th.
The deadline for writing the gift fanfic is December 30th. I will send the emails with the fanfics out on the 31st. You may choose to also post the gft fic youâve written. Iâm sure everyone wants to read them all! :) I certainly do.
Google forms link to sign up:Â https://goo.gl/forms/ZFlKd1RvGeC2dQ3V2
Oh, for the AU Ask Meme, how about McCree x Bagel medic but hereâs where the AU comes in: Bagel medic lives and joins Overwatch again! Is this okay?
Yes, thatâs fine. In truth, prior to deciding that I wanted to kill off bagel!medic, there was another storyline where they do meet after Overwatch comes together again. I think Iâve written about it before but I canât remember how much detail I put into it. So, Iâll just go again:
Hanzo, despite his less-than-stellar display of maturity, was surprisingly granted a mission, and he had taken it with such speed, there was no time for anyone to protest (or for you to have made an appropriate lunchbox). It was merely surveillance around Gibraltar, but that must have been more appealing than remaining in the incredible awkwardness at the base.
His absence, however, did little to alleviate the oppressive air in the sparsely occupied Watchpoint. Genji had made himself scarce, and when he was available, was noticeably more distant. Zenyattaâs presence probably did a lot to ease the uncertainty that weighs on the cyborg.
Though, McCree did not know who he felt worse for: Genji or you.
The others had a lot of say about the matter, but McCree cannot consider himself so morally superior that he allowed himself to gripe. The feelings of the Shimada brothersâ are sticky in ways that even those on moral high ground should not comment onâthe deed was done and over with, the main thing now is how they feel now and how theyâre going to go about handling it. Itâs one thing if itâs between themselves, itâs another if theyâre going to drag innocent people in their cautious yet reckless game of feelings and painful memories.
Gabriel was responsible for you, for the teamâs well-being. The two of you tumbled down a trench during an unfortunate landing. His legs were undoubtedly injuredâbroken perhaps, and you were resting above him with rattling breaths that he could feel through his protective gear. The pain in his legs was enormous. Even so, heâll take this over a thousand papercuts any day.
âGet off, we need to move.â Gabriel would crawl if he had to, legs be damned. This is a battlefield, not a hotel. But you did not move, probably tired from having carried him despite your own heavy injuries. He had thought it before as you both tried to escape the chaos behind you: itâs a damn miracle you were even standing let alone carrying him. Though, he should have known it was not without consequence.Â
âTell meâŚthat, that I did well.â Your words were barely more than a coarse whisper against his neck, interspersed with wheezy breaths.
âWhat?â
You huffed. âTell me I did good.â
Anger flashed through him, crackling and searing his skin. âNo.â
âYouâre really handy with that,â you say, utterly fascinated with the smooth and firm motions of Angelaâs scalpel. They skim along the outside of the tough skin, tracing lines and paths that she will surely revisit later.Â
âHold it tight,â she says as her cuts become deeper but still just as fluid as the first. âI donât want it to slip.â
You could just imagine that scolding youâd get if Angela were to cut herself over something like this. She was already reluctant enough to help, but you wheedled her until she caved. (Though, youâre sure she isnât as reluctant as she couldâve been if that little smile and sigh she had at your back was any indication.)Â
Angela puts down her scalpel on the napkin and then reaches her hand into her âpatientâ. You watch, oddly amused as she grimaces. Her hands, as they come out, are bloodied in the juices, stringy insides, and guts of the poor pumpkin.Â
Cheerfully, you ask, âOkay, so do you want the smiley face or the angry face?â
And Angelaâa little exasperated looking and a little fond, perhapsâflicks a bit of pumpkin guts at you. Â
You MUST have an opinion on the new Genji and Hanzo interaction, please share because I for one am shook.
âI do not fear death.ââNo, you find living the challenge.â
Fuck, my auto-correct changed that to âno, you find loving the challenge,â and that unexpectedly gave me some feels.
Anyway, I have a few interpretations of this but I didnât really dwell too long on this. (Got caught up in Reinâs stuff.)
One is pity and living in a metaphorical sense.The other is sarcasm and living in a literal sense.
The pity aspect is because when has Hanzo actually /lived/ life? His own life? Hanzo doesnât know what fun is. He doesnât know how to enjoy life. He ghosts through it these past ten years, living off sheer stubbornness and a single-minded dedication to doing a ritual that either is for his own peace of mind or genuinely for Genjiâs âspiritâ. (We can talk all day about whether or not Hanzo was doing the yearly thing for himself or for Genji and I guarantee you that my opinion will change at least eight times.)
Then thereâs sarcasm. Hanzoâs been living fine these past ten years. Genji could easily be asking, âif you donât fear death, then why are you still alive?â And discreetly calling Hanzo a coward.
Or it could a combination of both or something else entirely.
Hereâs a thought: Adopted hybrid boi gets pet on the head for THE FIRST TIME EVER and he just doesnât know how to react??? That felt so nice and it made him so happy,,, he just starts to cry.Â
Iâm so sorry I keep writing stuff based on your prompts but I loved this idea so much I wrote two little drabbles. Your ideas are fucking magical dude I canât even
Hanzo
Youâre not disappointed when Hanzo seems to shy away from human contact when you brought him home. You were duly warned and even saw it for yourself at the adoption centre. Still, it does make your hand twitch when his fluffy ears swivel around or when he rolls over on a patch of sunlight.Â
Thereâs no doubt that Hanzo loves you as much as you love him, which does make up for the lack of affection that he shows you. Itâs a cold comfort when you really want to touch him and hug him but thatâs okay, youâd rather not push him beyond what heâs okay with.Â
Some days thoughâŚsome days are really hard.
Like today. Itâs been a shitty day at work and an even shittier month; little things that donât usually bother you eventually snowball into things that make you want to curl up at home and just wallow in yourself. The day has been a drag, chipping away at your soul until you close the door behind you with an empty look in your eyes and a haunted expression on your face.Â
Hanzo, bless him, sidles up to you when he sees you come home, wandering close enough for you to feel his heat but not feel his silken skin. You flash him a quick smile and head straight to bed; thatâs enough adulting for today, you think. The hybrid follows behind closely, tutting at you and picking up the clothes you litter around the house as he does so. It would make you smile had you the energy.
You muster up a small mutter of thanks and collapse onto the mattress, burying your face into the blanket. Softness and the smell of home permeates your senses, calming you instantly and you sprawl out with a soft moan of contentedness. Seconds turn to minutes, minutes turn into the better part of an hour, and as you doze off you feel the mattress dip beside you.Â
Raven hair fills your vision - Hanzo. He looks at you worriedly, looking pointedly at the mug of tea on the bedside table. When you decline it in favour of vegging out, he frowns and flops on his side next to you, his tail whipping across your legs in a show of his irritation.Â
With him this close, your thoughts turn away from your terrible day and to his handsome visage instead. Silky, glossy hair and charming fluffy ears, intelligent black eyes that glint back at you in the dying light of dusk. His facial hair, always impeccably groomed, twitch when he bites at his lip and shuffles closer, his shoulder a hairâs breadth away from your curled hand. Heâs looking at your hand, you realise, ears swivelling and flicking as though heâs contemplating something.Â
Itâs an adorable sight, one that breaks your self-discipline.
Unbidden, your hand shifts and lands gently on his head, your thumb stroking his impossibly soft locks. Unbeknownst to you, a serene smile spreads across your lips and holds Hanzoâs attention. His eyes are wide and locked on your face; youâreâŚyouâre petting him!
Should he shift away? Should he stay? Hanzoâs mind turns to static, fuzzing even more when you move your hand to pet him properly, fussing at his ears and tugging his hair out of his ponytail. He lets his eyes flutter shut, leaning into you and purring sonorously into the silence of your bedroom. Normally he doesnât like being petted, doesnât like his hair being touched, but thisâŚthis is nice.
Something warm fills his chest and his head, making his heart and brain turn to mush the longer your hand cups his head and threads into his hair. It feels good. Really good.Â
With a lump stuck in his throat, he opens his eyes to see if he dares to inch closer only to find that youâve dozed off completely, snoring gently into the rumpled blankets. Affection and love and something that heâs not prepared to acknowledge bloom inside him. Yes, he thinks as he rubs his head against your hand, this is nice. Maybe being petted isnât so bad after all.
Soldier 76
This old hybrid stiffens when you cup his head in your hands. What on earth are you doing?
You laugh and smooth your thumbs over his weathered cheeks, rubbing your forehead against his as you pet him thoroughly. Why, youâre petting him of course, what else?Â
He swallows past the lump in his throat and clenches his jaw, trying to stop the tears that well up in his eyes at the way you run your fingers through his thinning hair and kiss the hideous scars on his face. You donât have to be nice to him and pet him; he knows it doesnât feel as nice as petting a hybrid with fuller hair and smoother skin.
Huffing, you shake your head and play with his white hair affectionately, slicking it back from his forehead. This is fine. Youâre petting him, not some other hybrid.Â
Jack sniffles and looks down, feeling like he canât look you in the eyes while begging for more pets with his body. Heâs so old but heâs acting like a pup all over again, eager to be touched and loved. But he really does want more pets; he just canât say it without wanting to crawl into a hole.
Luckily for him, youâre a mindreader. Or a Jack-reader, anyway. You hug him to your chest and lean back against the sofa, caressing the back of his head and closing a hand over the back of his neck to stop him from leaving. The hybrid is stiff for a heartbeat but melts just as quickly, winding his strong arms around you and nuzzling into your neck.Â
HAHA HEY. GUESS WHO CANâT SLEEP SO THEY FINISHED THIS. HAHAHA. IRONY.
And guess what this one isnât particularly angsty at all! Weird! (Mostly because iâm an Angst Goblin and everything I touch turns Really Sad because of it.)
Warnings: None! Woo!
Sleepless nights werenât an uncommon thing around base, and though it hadnât happened often to yourself yet, you didnât feel particularly concerned (although frustrated over your inability to just fucking sleep). But once your restless tossing and turning had reached hour four, you lurched upright with a groan, your hands scrubbing over your face. In the moments you sat angrily in the dark of your room, you considered flopping over and giving it a fifth-sixth-seventh attempt, but almost mindlessly, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and stood.
