Could I get some romantic headcanons about how Soldier 76 starts to let his walls down with male reader once they get really close? Like Soldier being more willing to show his goofy side or be affectionate.
He's such a broken man but we love him. Hgnnn
SOLDIER 76
He realised he liked other men way before he met you, but the countless partners were never enough for the man.
When you had drunkenly kissed him at a party Overwatch was holding in the mess hall, something lit up inside of him.
Since then, the two of you grew close, but he wasn’t quite there in letting his walls down.
You were patient and he loved that about you.
Jack had done some questionable things in his life but he wanted to keep those behind locked doors until the time was right. He did not want to push you away.
Days turned into weeks and eventually, Morrison began opening up a little more.
He confided in you when he believed nobody else out there was willing to listen.
Sure he had old friends, like Reyes and Amari, but neither came close to the connection he shared with you.
Morrison would tell you about his past in little parts, not revealing everything at once, but overtime, when he knew you weren’t going to run, he was open.
Give him a few beers and he’ll be talking non-stop for the entire night.
When he truly is comfortable with you, the walls are down completely.
He’d make sure to show you off whenever possibly.
“This is my boyfriend.”
“I love him.”
“I’m so glad he kissed me that night.”
He would ramble on and on about how much you meant to him.
Morrison would try and hide the blushed face whenever he thought of you or spoke about you, but people knew.
He was happier, and will wholefully admit that should anyone pick up on it.
He would lay in bed with you each night, hands caressing your body, any scars or imperfections he would kiss.
Morrison would let himself go when he was with you. Letting himself laugh and be carefree for a night when he’s usually so uptight.
When he is with you, all of his worries melt away.
He would protect you at all costs. You mean more to him than he ever thought was capable.
not a request but i just want you and anyone else reading to know about a headcanon i have about jack. because he's so stressed and overworked all the time, i think when he actually feels comfortable, he falls asleep really easily. it's rare for him to feel comfortable, but being with his boyfriend is enough nowadays. often it takes only a couple minutes of cuddling before he knocks out. also, he snores as loud as a jet engine
yes omg !! just run your fingers thru jack's hair and softly speak to him,, him wrapping his arms around your waist and laying his head on your chest-- the peaceful beating of your heart makes it hard for him to focus on your words and he tries sooo hard to stay awake but your warmth and gentle touch knocks him the hell out !! you arent mad that he fell asleep either, because its cute seeing him like this <3 jack always wakes up to you kissing his face and lips lovingly and lightly teasing him for his snoring
hey can i request ow headcannons of a s/o who does drag? (with soldier, lucio, cassidy, baptiste and junkrat) gn pls! thanks in advance :3
Soldier, Lúcio, Cassidy, Baptiste, and Junkrat x Drag Queen S/O Headcanons
A/N: TYSM FOR THE REQUEST OMG! I am a fan of watching people do drag on occasion but I hope I did my best writing this for you!! I did their opinions on you doing drag and their reactions to seeing you in drag for the first time since you didn't really specify anything in particular!!!! :D
Have a fun time reading anon, Ily <;33
Genre: Relationship Headcanon
CW: Flirting, Cursing, Pre-relationship status
Word Count: 1,545
Soldier 76
Soldier 76 respects your determination for the part of being a Drag Queen. I mean, you have to buy so much makeup, clothes, wigs if you want, and glitter.
He can't even figure out how to do makeup, even though you have tried to teach him before. He has figured out how to walk in your small heels, which he joked, "This is a step up to becoming a drag queen, huh?"
He never really sees you in drag, his first time after you two started dating was crazy. You packed your bags since you and some of your Drag Queens were going to go to the mall and he came out of the room groggily in surprise.
He knew you did drag, that was one of your first conversations you two had before dating, but he never expected to see you in your outfits this early on!
"Oh, Good Morning Jack!" you said in a cheery tone, turning around to see him furrowed eyebrows. "Your so.. shiny." he said, clearing his throat. "Yeah, it comes with the part dear" you replied, walking over to kiss him on his forehead. "How the hell did you get all of that on you.. how can you even breathe or walk?" he kept questioning on. "You look like a totally different fucking person!"
You laughed, telling him you made him coffee already and that you'll be home soon. You hugged him as he fell into your hug slightly, getting a face full of clothes. "I have so many damn questions when you get back
Lúcio
Lúcio is such a fan of you doing drag and he loves the fact you use his music for your shows. He loves doing makeup with you since before he does to a music concert, he puts on concealer, green eye makeup, and even fake freckles on some parts of his face. He even puts glitter on his facial hair sometimes which you help him with.
He has even been to one of your shows and has been the biggest support/cheerleader since you two started to be friends all through your relationship.
The first time he saw you in drag was during one of the music concerts, you dressed in all green and glow sticks and gave out frog lollipops to people who passed. This was before you two started dating, your first interaction.
You were a huge fan of his music so obviously, you would come! You even bought a backstage pass to actually meet him! After his main opening and playing DJ, he decided to let the music play with one of his helpers to do a backstage meet-and-greet.
You walked up in line, being the first one. When he was walking to the area and saw you, he blushed slightly.
"Hey Hey!" He said while sliding up to look at you and your outfit. "Whoa... You look fantastic!" he laughed excitedly. You smiled even more. "I love your music!! I am so glad you like my outfit- I tried my best to make it look like- you!" you replied, placing the CD down. "Maybe you should be my outfit manager...see you around tho, Drag Lúcio!" he offered, signing your CD with his signature... and his number.
Cassidy
Cole Cassidy has never really understood why people drag, but he is amazed at how people put on a persona and wear all those heels and clothes. Like seriously, he could never wrap his head around how people in drag put on such a daring personality and a bold look for hours on end!
Although he doesn't fully understand why you do drag, he is supportive nonetheless. He even lets you do his makeup on rare occasions, mainly when he is drunk. One time he woke up with a face of makeup and his nails done (LMAO).
He does sometimes try to wear your heels. "It can't be that hard, I mean, I wear these boots all day and they got heels to em'!" Once he got up and tried to walk he instantly fell, and oh, you laughed your butt off while helping him up.
The first time he saw you in drag was when he came home from a bar. He had gotten drunk and you had just finished testing a drag outfit you were going to wear later in the week; you never expected him to get home this early. You were walking around the house when he saw you, and god was he stuck standing there like an idiot.
"You are home so early, what happened?" you asked concerningly, normally he would be out all night till early in the morning. "Why did ya' get all dolled up for me?" he drunkenly asked with a deep laugh, smiling oh so happily. "You look fab-u-lous babe!" he added, opening his arms up for a hug.
You were flattered by his drunken compliment. You asked if he was drunk, and he replied yes with a groan. "But just because I'm dr-runk means nothin' darlin'! I can stay up all night while you get all dolled up" he replied, with a huge grin. You laid him down on the couch, telling him you would be back without the outfit on; when you got back in more suitable clothes he was passed out. I mean hey, at least you know he doesn't mind you doing drag!
Baptiste
Baptiste has always been the kind of man to love and appreciate everything in life. When he found out you did drag he was so happy to know one of your lifestyles. He loves hearing you talk about what kind things you do when in drag, the persona you put on, the stories you have to tell.
He is just really happy about your hobbies, and this one he has asked to join in. He happily did a mini-fashion show with the two of you and your drag costumes you had. Obviously he was just playing and enjoying the moment with you. During the start of the fashion show he finally saw you in drag, after days of asking to see photos of you.
The two of you had set up a fake run way going from the dining room into the living room, a red cloth being the run way set. "I am so excited! Go first!!" he rushed you into the bedroom to change.
You laughed, excited to see his reaction to you in a quick drag outfit. Baptiste, on the other hand, had set up a camera to record you so he could watch the moment whenever he wanted to.
After many minuets, you gave him a warning with a "Coming down the runway, your favorite partner of all time..", finishing it right as you got in line of sight as Baptiste. He stood up, overreaction with gasps and laughs and moving his arms around you in shock.
"That looks fantastic! How did you do this in such little time?" he asked quickly, a jump in his step as you explained how this is just something you did quickly, and how you could do better with more amount of time. After millions of questions from him, he begged you to do his makeup like a drag queen and you two could do a mini photo shop.
Junkrat
Junkrat wasn't really educated with many kinds of hobbies, drag included. Honestly, he had seen you in drag millions of times and wasn't really phased by it, but he loved seeing the sparkles and colors on your already handsome face. He asked you questions like "Are ya sureee that's comfortable? In this weather? Is it bomb proof? Why do you always go out in that dress?" You find the questions cute, and glad he seemed quite interested in it.
He had once been to one of your drag events, a kids reading event. He sat right near the front, watching you read with a huge smile on his face. Even in drag or not, you were so handsome and he loved that.
The first time he saw you in drag was a week after you two started dating. He had just got out of the shower (crazy i know) and you were seeing what outfit matched best with the makeup you were wearing in the living room. When he came out into the living room you were going to ask him what worked best, but then...
"Hey dearie, you ran out of soa- OH MY GOSH!" his eyes lit up at the outfits you had laid out. "ARE THESE YOURS? ARE YOU GOING TO WEAR THEM??" he asked excitedly while you explained what you were doing.
"I'm assuming you don't know but- I am a Drag queen and we wear all these clothes and makeup and stuff and just have fun! we sing-" he cut you off, saying he should also be a drag queen since he is an 'amazing' singer/song writer/musician/ actor/fashionista. He was over-exaggerating, but it made you start to cackle.
You promised Junkrat that when you got back that you would help him do drag. He laughed, jumping around. "Caannn my drag queen person have bombs on them? and gold? and fire?" he asked while you sighed with a smile on your face. What have you created?
A/N: Anon, and everyone else, I am so sorry i haven't uploaded in so long! I've been busy with school and kinda forgot i have a Tumblr but I will slowly post more and more. Also sorry if anyone here seems Out of Character. ILY MWAHH
if i can be self-indulgent for a moment: how would soldier 76 react to watching his boyfriend graduate and get his master's degree? (older jack plz) thank you in advance for fueling me <3
Of course I will indulge you friend!
Soldier 76 with graduating s/o
He's so frickin happy for you
He knows how hard you worked for this so seeing you get it is so inspiring
He knows his visor have bring unwanted attention so he'll stand at the back
It may take some squinting to see him but he's there
When you get home Jack has all your favorite food already cooked with you favorite movies next to the tv
He wants celebrate cause he knows he can be busy but he really cares for you
He knows how many years you put into this and you deserve to relax for once
He will frame your degree in the front hall for all the guests to see because he has dad energy like that
He will also put a picture of it in the scrapbook he's making of your relationship
Though you won't see it for a long time its gonna be a surprise
After a lot of hugs when you get home he'll finally take off his visor
He knows it's a rare occasion but this is important to you
(Side note if you start giving him kisses on his scars he will melt)
He's also not afraid to calm everyone he knows and brag yo them about your graduation
Mercy had to sit through a three hour call at 11:00 because of the time difference
Even though everyone is happy no one is as much of a cheerleader as Jack🥰
rq: "do you think maybe you could do yan soldier76 hcs? i love your writing <3 also ... um maybe if you do the sol76 hcs you could do young and current jack? its ok if not but i thought it was neat with rein..."
☆ Jack is not a frills man in the least. He prefers routine, and he likes to be prepared--so falling in love with you is something he just doesn't know how to deal with. At first, he absolutely hates the fact that he's given in to these kinds of feelings again, and for a time he channels it into hating you.
☆ He's a bully, speaking lowly of you and constantly doubting your abilities in front of your superiors. It's not becoming of him as the former poster boy for Overwatch, but he's changed in so many other ways that the only thing that they can do is let it slide. Which, of course, means that you'll have to fend for yourself against Jack whenever you two end up alone together.
☆ However, eventually he'll come to his breaking point, and he'll corner you somewhere isolated and quiet so he can tell you something. You'll fear that he's going to threaten you, or demand you do something for him that will betray Overwatch--but instead, he does so to confess to you that he's in love with you. His demeanor is completely different as he speaks, he's much more polite and even a bit nervous about baring his heart to you....and because of that, it's very unlikely that you'll be able to believe him.
☆ So if you don't, which will be the most likely outcome, or tell him that you dislike him just as much as you know he does you, he'll have to move to the most drastic option in a fit of quiet anger. He'll kidnap you, unable to even entertain the possibility of you slipping out of his reach, and from then on you'll be his little house spouse against your will.
☆ He's got a routine all planned out for you: wake up, make breakfast for the two of you, kiss him before he heads off for work, clean the house, wait for him to either deliver you lunch or eat leftovers, take a bath, prep dinner, greet him when he arrives home, eat together, and spend your evening by his side. Obviously there's room for some spontaneity if you desire it, but for the most part that's what he expects and he'll even write it out as a list to tack to the refrigerator door, in case you forget.
☆ It's not just because that's what he likes (even though it is) he insists that this whole debacle is for your protection. You're vulnerable to all manner of unsavoury characters being his object of affection, so the only logical course of action in his mind is to keep you home, and hopefully, keep you happy. He already made the mistake of letting work overtake his relationships once, so by keeping you settled in his home and organizing a tight schedule he's sure he can overcome that obstacle this time, for you.
☆ On days or weeks that he's gone for missions, however, he'll hire a bot to come check on you and supply you with food, toiletries, and gifts that he sends along to keep you occupied. He'll even put some credits into an online account so you can do some shopping on the holovids if you like, although he'll be keeping a close eye on your browsing history and will approve or reject your purchases based on his personal contraband list, which includes anything that might help you escape, destroy his property, hurt yourself, or incite unfaithfulness to him.
♡ As far as sex goes, for one, he prefers to keep his clothes on. Not because of insecurity (although he's sure his scars don't look pretty) but rather because he gets off on the idea of having sex in a hurry, or doing it somewhere you're not supposed to. He'll also pay attention to the degree with which you enjoy it based on whether he has the mask on or off, and whichever one you respond to better he'll do more often, like if you get off on his voice with it on or prefer to see his facial expressions otherwise.
♡♀️ Curiously enough, he prefers missionary to anything else if you're a female. He loves having your legs hooked around him and your heels digging into his back, your soft hands clutching at his biceps, and your tits on display for him as he bucks into you and pulls all those cute moans from your mouth. He's also doing it raw every time, and will just make sure you take your birth control if not get you plan b or an implant. Breeding kinks are a go for him, but kids are not, at least right now. Unless you really wanted it....and in that case, it's more likely that he'll make you call him daddy as you beg for him to knock you up.
♡♂️ If you're a male, he's all about doggy. He loves watching his cock disappear inside you from behind, and he can reach around and rub at your own to make you cum while he's still buried inside you, the spasms of your ass around his shaft certain to make him bust real soon after. He's really filthy about it in the afterglow too, obsessing over the way his cum leaks out of you to the point that he'll buy a plug just to push inside you so that you'll be stuffed full of his seed for the rest of the day. It'll probably become a morning ritual: wake up, get your brains absolutely scrambled by his monster of a dick, and then spend the rest of the day squirming in your seat and clenching your legs together to try and keep his cum inside, lest he punish you for letting it leak out.
♡‼️ And either way, if you're not keen on letting him anywhere near you, he's not afraid to coerce you. Threats, bribes, gaslighting, he'll use whatever works to make you spread your legs for him. And if he catches you masturbating when you've already been pushing him away, he'll take it upon himself to satisfy you like you obviously need to be--because in his mind, you're just playing hard to get, and you must know exactly what you're doing to try and tease him into fucking you.
☆ You're so lucky to have him protecting you, because it's such a dangerous world out there and nobody can be trusted anymore. He may not be a hero for the people anymore, but he's certain that he's your hero, and by that logic you should be grateful that you're the one who gets to support him day in and day out as his spouse, until the day you finally leave this earth.
Young 76
☆ Somehow, he's even more anal about things in his youth than he is when he's older. Not in the way of making lists and schedules or keeping to a strict routine, but his image is very important and he tries to be very moralistic.
☆ But the way he loves you is not normal. He knows that. He's well aware that being consumed with thoughts of you all day, and obsessing over things like the way you tie your shoes or how your hair smells depending on the day you wash it, are things he should probably see a counselor for. There's something that always stops him from doing that though, and thus he just keeps falling deeper and deeper in love with you in a twisted way.
♡ The fact that he also takes hour-long showers is another impediment in his life. The other Overwatch members are always complaining about someone taking all the hot water, but they would never guess that it's their uptight commander, fucking his hand with a fury that's near painful over and over and over again, just because you smiled at him that day or he got ahold of one of your belongings, like a hair tie or one of your shoelaces.
☆ However, despite the fact that he knows good and well that he's approaching creep territory, his obsession with you is like a drug. If he goes without seeing you for long enough he'll start to withdraw, and eventually it'll be so disruptive to his life that he just can't take it. He has more patience than when he's older, thankfully, so when he finally courts you it's not as intimidating--and if you say yes, he'll be quietly overjoyed. But if you don't, then he'll try his best to convince you.
☆ If flowers, acts of service, and other gifts aren't enough, then he's just gonna have to do something drastic because you don't understand how much he needs you. He'll carefully orchestrate a mission for you to go on alone, somewhere that no other Overwatch agent is patrolling or even nearby--and the end result will be a freak accident during your mission that seemingly kills you, but in reality, it'll be a coverup for him to fake your death and bring you back to a private base for him to keep you in.
☆ Isn't it wonderful that your commander saved you? And how nice of him to bring you somewhere safe and quiet to tend to your injuries himself! You may think that at first, but eventually you'll realize that it was all a ruse. You know you're a prisoner, but in his eyes, you're his wonderful partner that he can finally build his life with.
♡ And part of that life includes making your body his. His attempts to get you into his bed will move slowly, carefully, because he doesn't want to ruin his progress by getting too antsy. He introduces gentle touches here and there and gets you used to having his hands on you, and eventually with the promise of some more freedoms if you agree, you'll let him lay claim to you much to his relief.
♡ However, he has a problem with cumming too early when he finally gets his hands on you. His excitement is so palpable and there's so much adrenaline coursing through his veins, that when it comes time to get your clothes off he has to will himself back lest he make a mess in his boxers. However, if you were to make fun of him for it, he would use it as an excuse to make you clean it up for him with your mouth, which includes licking the wet spot he's left in his underwear while he watches with disgusting glee.
♡ Jack's also a hair puller. He loves wrapping your hair around his fist if it's long enough or just burying his fingers into your scalp and tugging on it, either to pull you back against his thrusts, to move your head aside so he has access to your neck, or just to bring you in for a possessive kiss that leaves your lips bruised and nicked with blood while he moans about how you belong to him.
♡ Since he's usually quite busy with work, too, he'll be keen on making some videos to keep things interesting for you and to keep himself satisfied when he's away for extended periods of time. He'll primarily make you touch yourself while he films it, mostly while moaning his name along with some other things he's chosen for you to say, along with so many clips of you two having sex that it could rival any degenerate's porn collection. He would love to film everything so that he can relive every single time together, but that would be a bit much, so he settles for the latter and keeps as much as he can store on his personal cellphone for when he goes off on missions. God help him if he ever loses it while off in another country, and condolences to whatever poor soul finds it and looks in his gallery.
☆ Overall, you'll have to become comfortable with being his if you don't want to go insane. He's so obsessed with you that he's never going to let you go.....and if it comes time that Overwatch is gone and he needs to move out to find somewhere else to call home, you'll be going with him whether you like it or not.
Alpha!Reaper/Gabriel Reyes x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Soldier:76/Jack Morrison
18+ ONLY, Omegaverse, Graphic Violence and Angst, Slow-Burn, Smut
CHAPTER ONE: Lemon to a Knife Fight
God damn it, did they have to be so fucking loud?
You rolled out of your bed, fumbling around your room for your clothes - not even bothering to turn on your light as you yanked on your combat vest, tactical helmet and duster jacket over top of your pajamas, growling under your breath at being woken up so early in the morning by gunshots.
Again.
More shots rang out, a short burst of three that could’ve only come from a semi-automatic.
At least whoever was using that pulse rifle hadn’t fired their rockets yet.
But still, what kind of assholes fired shotguns and pulse rifles at this time of night? Fucking pricks, that’s who. Loud. Amateurish. It made you want to punch someone. You ground your teeth together and wrinkled your nose. They'll wake up half the city at this rate, didn't they care about discretion at all?
Idiots like these were one of the many reasons you tended to work alone.
But you still needed to figure out who was so close to your safehouse and why. Hopefully its just some dumb police skirmish and not Tricell getting close to finding you.
You grabbed a fresh pack of scent-blockers from your dresser, yanking them open and and slapping the patches over the scent glands on your neck. You pressed a button on the bracelet connected to your visor, running pre-combat checks to make sure all it’s surveillance systems were in working order despite the hit it took last time you were out, and tugged the soft black fabric of your turtle-neck vest up to cover your neck and patches both. An unmated omega in this line of work was safest and most effective while discreet, after all.
You've always had more important things to worry about than mating someone, obviously, as close as you’d gotten once or twice. Nothing you were ashamed of - but not something you wanted any territorial alphas getting a look at, though - you didn't need hormones and prejudice interfering with business. Not that you couldn't handle anybody that came at you for any reason, alpha or not. But you would take any amount of privacy where you could.
Pre-boot sequence finished, your HUD sprung to life in front of your eyes, the tactical system already feeding information to your screen. You wiggled the cat ears on the top of the helmet with the built-in neural link (you could feel the pressure from the sensors lining the helmet pressing against your temple), making sure they were moving right and taking in sound, heat, light, and vibration from around you the way they should.
Sound, check. Infrared and seismic sense, check. Helmet’s a check.
Finally, you slung a strap over your head - similar to a bandolier, but instead of bullets it held a variety of small objects: thin metal tubes, flat plates, and spring-loaded spheres that exploded into spikes when released - sea urchins, as you called them. All the weapons you ever normally needed, though you could use just about anything laying around in a pinch.
You weren’t quite sure you remembered the last time you’d needed to fire a gun.
The crack of your joints rang out as the only sound in your still apartment as you rolled your shoulders and shook your sore muscles loose. Your body would make you pay for this later, you just knew it - and would probably take you out of commission for a few days - but you were always one for more instant gratification when it came to petty revenge, and you planned to ruin these peoples’ nights, whoever the hell they were.
Let’s kick some ass, then.
You teleported yourself to the stained concrete roof of the building across the street, peering over the edge to get a good look at the chase happening far too close to your safehouse for your liking. Three forms outlined in neon pink on your visor chasing each other through Mexico City and making a goddamn nuisance of themselves.
Of course it had to be fucking Overwatch. It was just their speed to get into a fight like this in the middle of the night without backup. Like, seriously? No extraction plan? Stealth? Regard for civilian wellbeing?
Jack would be rolling in damn his grave if he could see this.
Things really have gone downhill.
Tracer ran past into a side street farther down the block, occasionally phasing forward to keep a leg up on speed. Behind her a ways was Soldier: 76 exchanging shots with Reaper and leaving bullet-holes in buildings as they went, apparently keeping him busy enough to give Tracer a decent lead despite how fast you knew either of them could be alone.
And they were fighting over a fucking backpack. Jesus Christ.
Another shotgun blast went off, leaving tinnitus ringing in your enhanced ears, and you shot Reaper a dirty look. Loud, rude-ass bastard. His guns were way louder than they had any right being, did he do that on purpose? You’d finally managed to scrape together some semblance of sleep and they’d gone and ruined it. And you really did hate being awake these days.
You’d considered staying out of it - really, you had, I promise - it’s not like you could really afford drawing attention to yourself, but fuck it.
You were dying. Might as well your kicks where you could.
None of them could have the package, then.
You teleported to the next building across the street to keep Tracer in your line of sight and scanned for a spot to intercept. She was the one running the package, so she would be the cute little mouse you needed to dig your claws into.
Not that you had any claws, but maybe John would get you some for Christmas. Lord knows he could afford it.
Back on topic, it really looked like they were just running the package on foot. They didn’t even have a motorcycle or anything? A car? Drone? The recall team had a long way to go if they couldn’t even jack a bike. You’d steal something for them out of pity points, if they were anyone else, just because their operation was pretty much held together with duct tape and hope at this point. But who knows what the hell they would want from you after. Things had never turned out well with them in the past, and you didn’t expect throwing your lot in now would end any differently.
You had so little left and you couldn’t let them ruin her.
Grief and rage flared hot in your chest at the glaring reminder in front of you of all you’d lost, all you had left to lose, sucking you into a familiar, gaping abyss in your heart that ate away at you when you weren’t looking, the low-pooled rage you kept at a simmer until eventually you had to let it explode.
You grit your teeth, blinking to an alley in front of Tracer’s path, crouching low and waiting for her to run past you, heart racing in anticipation. You always were a good tackle. And you had years of issues to work out on the good people of Overwatch.
She came into view, a streak of orange outlined against black asphalt, and you pounced.
She cried out as you hit her in the side, a mean grin taking over your face as the two of you rolled to a stop in the middle of the street, scraping wear and dirt into your clothes, but that didn’t matter, nor did the throbbing pain of landing. You grabbed a fistfull of the canvas bag on her back as she twisted underneath you to reach for her gun, just as 76 rounded the corner with his pulse rifle still pointed behind him, and you jumped before he locked onto you - teleporting a few streets down, breathing hard, but satisfaction settling deep in your bones sending a slightly manic laugh bubbling up from your chest.
The bag in your hand was lighter than you thought it would be. Something so small worth killing for, huh? Must be something interesting.
Unless it was just a bunch of stupid date cubes full of intel.
How much would the finder’s fee be if you brought it into the Continental?
But then again, that would likely ruin any future contracts from Talon if they caught wind of it, given they’re after this thing, too. Not like you ever took them, but an ex-soldier in your position needed to keep her options open. You never knew when you might need friends in low places, after all, and Talon had just the kind of reach you would probably need one of these days if you were going to live to see Nessa graduate primary school.
The camera in the intersection in front of you turned your way, the reticle adjusting and zooming in on your position, but you just gave it a little wave, sure somebody was patched into the local grid to guide the two Heroes away from Reaper and towards wherever the hell their evac was. Or you might be waving to Sombra and therefore Talon, but it didn’t really matter.
It might’ve been petty, but if fucking with Overwatch was your plan for the night, you would savor every last second of it.
You should really do this more often. Test yourself against somebody who actually stood a chance in hell instead of the usual bozos.
Not much more you could do to these bastards short of getting yourself on the global Most Wanted list right next to them, though. Maybe you could claim you were a bounty hunter? That would check out if you wanted to kick Soldier: 76’s face in for having the balls to go with that name. Either way, you smiled again at the thought of running them in circles for hours and wasting their time, taking off in a run toward the warehouse district where you could really start to fuck with them. Maybe even get them lost in an empty factory.
An alert went off loud on your HUD, a sharp ping and a neon directional marker that meant your headset picked up a sound, something like subtle footsteps shuffling off to your left, and a split second later you were forced to blink out of the way of Reaper’s shotgun blast to the face, an embarrassing squeak forced out of your lungs in surprise, the resounding echoed shot ringing ominously in your chest.
Oh. So you were waving to Sombra, then.
“Aw, sorry, Kitty,” He teased with a laugh, a good block or two behind you now that you’d teleported away, but the cat ears on your helmet combined with your enhanced hearing amplified the words enough for you to hear it. Kitty?! You scowled at him behind your visor as he tilted his head, seemingly picking up that you could still understand him. “Did I scare you?” He didn't waste another moment with banter, turning back into mist and making a beeline in your direction, much faster than the other two you were toying with.
You half-growled, half-mewled as you broke out into a dead sprint in the opposite direction, not wanting to get too far away from the others, but really not wanting to stick around to play chicken with Talon’s heavy-hitter.
Bitch-ass motherfucker.
Fucking kitty.
Some nerve this guy had; how god-damn condescending is that, just because you had cat ears, tactical cat ears - and he was in front of you again, bleeding out of the shadows of a streetlight and forcing you to skid to a stop, the rubber soles of your boots making a horrible noise against the concrete sidewalk. He held out a clawed hand towards you, his deep voice the only sound in the dead streets apart from your own heavy breathing. “Hand over the package, and maybe I won't have to put you down.”
Ah, shit.
You’d always been eager to see him work up close - as fucked up as the notion might’ve been, but he was good at what he did - but this… was not what you’d had in mind.
But you supposed you could play ball with him, too, if only to pay him back for the condescension and rude awakening.
“What’s in this thing anyway?” You tried your best to laugh, even though it came out more of a barking, broken scoff, and flung the bag over your shoulder. “Gotta be pretty valuable, no? Have cash on you? I’ll trade ya for it.”
“Are you really gonna be that stupid?” He laughed, low and muted by his mask and you had to fight the squiggly feeling crawling up your chest. Something about that voice was… making you feel squirmy in your stomach, somewhere way deep down beneath all the righteous indignation. And you weren’t sure if it was a bad or a good squirmy. Not sure at that point which possibility scared you more.
“Your goddamn shotgun woke me up, forgive me for wanting compensation.” You shrugged. “One way or another.”
You didn’t wait for a response this time, blinking away somewhere closer to the two members of Overwatch, who hopefully actually had someone keeping track of you with the traffic cameras.
Oh, and there was Discount Captain America, right on time, rounding the corner in a rousing display of American Patriotism. He started after you at his top speed, not even trying for a shot with the pulse rifle, seemingly having put two and two together that you would just dodge it even if he got off a shot.
Fuck, he was hauling ass. How did that much muscle go so quickly?
You didn’t bother to try and process what was so familiar about the way he was moving at the moment, the nagging feeling in the back of your head that told you that you should recognize it, but that was probably just because he’s got to be former special Ops or something - you just shot him a cheeky wave, turned on the spot and ran, as fast as you could in the other direction.
And if he could hear you laughing, well, good. He deserved to know how much fun you were having ruining his night.
This was exhilarating! This was more action than you’ve had in years - burglary, delivery services and childcare had nothing on the thrill of the chase - either side of it.
Maybe you should take those Talon contracts that cropped up every once in a while, if it meant you could do this and get paid for it.
Still, 76 was faster than you on foot whether you were faster than literally any other person or not, and he was gaining on you, close enough for him to try and grab at the back of your jacket like he stood a chance of catching you. Just as you heard him shift behind you, you blinked farther down the street to get out of his range again, whirling around a corner and picking up the pace, the wind hitting you through your clothes feeling better than almost anything had in years.
In front of you, Tracer faded to solid from an alley, leaving an echo trail behind her as she stopped, guarded. You paused just for a second, curious. You didn’t know what she was about as well as the two men with her, and the unpredictability of her power set made you tense, ready to blink away again in a moment.
“C’mon, love,” She said, and shot you a placating smile even as she pointed her pea-shooter at you. “Hand it here, no need to get violent.”
“Sorry, Lena, but I’m having the time of my life,” You teleported a good ways behind her, throwing your arms out wide and mocking as you laughed. You hoped she missed how your right hand was beginning to shake ever so slightly as you lowered them, the strain of the night showing it’s hand earlier than you’d planned. “Maybe if you can catch me I’ll give it up!”
She dropped her stance slightly as she turned around, like she was caught off guard. “Lena?”
“What, like that’s not-”
And you got T-boned by a shit-load of black mist - an overwhelming scent of sweet smoke and rust filling your mouth and nose, even through your filter, as you rolled bodily into a dead-end alley, grunting at the force of the impact on your ribs as you felt razor-sharp claws digging through the fabric of your jacket and pressing into your skin, pressing just hard enough for tiny beads of blood to well up on your chest.
You landed hard with a sharp grunt, back flat on the pavement and wind knocked painfully clear from your lungs, eyes wide and head spinning. You tried to gasp in your breath, chest heaving underneath the man above you, but it came out as a sad wheeze instead, lungs stinging and rattled from the shock. Reaper loomed over you, mask all up in your face, close enough that you could’ve seen his individual eyelashes had neither of you worn masks. He straddled you, almost, hard armor pressing into the soft flesh of your thighs and chest as he used his weight to hold you down.
Okay. Ow. That really hurt.
But damn.
You had eyes and this man was built.
You swallowed, staring into the blank eyes of his mask, feeling your face heat up at the thought. Were you that touch-starved? Really? Fucking hell, you needed to get laid.
He chuckled at you, and you felt his chest move against yours, making you suck in a breath. “I can respect fucking with Overwatch, I really can.” He leaned back, weight shifting to pin your legs down completely, and trailed his claws from your lapel to your shoulders, almost sensually, fuck, the sharp points of metal still cold even over your clothes as they brushed against your collarbone, leaving you shivering with goosebumps in their wake. “It’s one of my favorite pass-times, so I won’t hold it against you, just this once.” He grabbed at the bag on your shoulder, tugging barely at all but still shredding the straps in less than a second to pull it out from under you, leaving you to thunk back against the pavement a second time with a grunt. Hng sharp claws dangerous. “But I do have a job to do, kitty.”
You had to choke back a whine at his voice, so nice and deep and right against you, it had you biting at your lip to stop you from saying the first thing that popped into your mind (‘I could be your next favorite pastime’). Just. Thank fuck he couldn’t see your face, you didn’t need that brand of embarrassment.
You had a reputation, damn it! And it was being dangerous and kinky one night stands with ill-advised people, in that order, not... simpering omega shit.
Oh, they would just kill to see you now. Literally.
“That's-” You cut yourself off when your voice came out higher pitched and breathier than you wanted, sending another wave of heat through your face, especially when you had to divert so much focus into not tilting your head just so and bare your covered neck at him like some kind of hormone-crazed idiot. Fuck. You swallowed again around the lump in your throat and the adrenaline in your veins, heartbeat hammering in your ears.
Yes, you’ll admit, you had a history of being attracted to overtly dangerous people, but this time really took the fucking cake. Even the stupid, patronizing nickname made you weak, now that you stopped to notice. (Especially the stupid, patronising nickname.) You were just grateful you’d taken the time to put on your scent-blockers and had a filter in your mask, you couldn't even begin to guess how Reaper would react if he got a hint of your pheromones going nuts. “That’s not my name.”
He tilted his head, and you felt his gaze on you, heavy and analyzing. Shit. He couldn’t scent you anyway, could he? There was no way -
“I don’t care.” He said, after a moment, and you relaxed a fraction, even though he hadn’t released his substantial weight from your body.
Your left hand was free, and his beefy arms were right there. You could always just...
Of course, as soon as you considered it, he left in a cloud of mist just as fast as he came, and you went limp, laid out flat on the floor of the alleyway, still trying to catch your breath. For an entire solide minute all you could manage was staring at the light-polluted night sky above you as your mind reeled, feeling worse the longer you layed there. An ache from the night's stress was starting full force, screaming in your muscles in revenge for daring your broken body to move like it used to, and being tackled by metal-clad mist hadn't helped.
But hol-y shit. Something was deeply wrong with you. Even for your admittedly eccentric tastes, this was a bit much...
Tracer’s light footfall sounded past the alley as she spoke into her mic, but you barely processed it through your stunned stupor. “Reapers got the package, I need an intercept course!”
She passed you without a second glance.
You pushed yourself up with wobbly arms, and looked down at your hands - trembling with adrenaline and something else you absolutely refused to put a name to. You exhaled heavily, almost a whine at this point for a few different reasons of varying concern.
You teleported back to your safehouse feeling too-warm and shaky, and flinched at another gunshot ringing out in the distance - farther away now, thankfully, and much less likely to disturb what little sleep you would be able to manage. That was a win. You yanked off your helmet, not really caring one way or another how you all but dropped it onto the table, threw off your jacket, and flung off your shoes without untying them, not even registering the sharp thud of them banging against the wall and leaving scuffs as you continued to strip down.
You ran your hands down your hot face and sighed. How the hell were you supposed to spend the night now? There was no fucking way you could face Reaper again as you were. You would probably just fucking mount him in the middle of the goddamn street before you got your mind right to stop.
Fucking with Soldier: 76 would have to wait for another time.
After a minute of standing there in the dark, lonely silence, you relented with an overdramatic sigh to yourself, dragging your feet across the stained, old wooden floor over to the bathroom, and turned the knob in the shower, only turning on the nightlight by the sink.
You left the water cool, and closed your eyes for a moment, leaning your forehead against the blissfully cold wall tile. Just for a second you thought to be grateful for the little plastic implant in your arm that prevented your hormones from spiking and possibly sending you into heat over something stupid. You’d heard that happened to some omegas when they were sick. Who knows what could’ve set you off these days without it.
Not that you would’ve gone into heat, obviously, sick or not sick. No way. Not something as trivial as getting… pinned down… by Reaper. Shit, nope, not going there, cease, you had work to do in the morning and you needed to just. Go to bed. Yup. Bed. Nothing else. No thinking about the way his muscles felt against you. Or how warm he was. Unusually warm. Warm in a way that would feel really nice against your bare skin.
Not necessary. For sure. Course not.
You got out of the shower, wincing at the texture of the towel you pulled against your skin - everything was so loud these days, it would probably sting your skin even if it was made of the best terry cloth on the planet and not some coarse weave bargain-bin acrylic.
It didn’t matter anyway, it’s not like you could afford to divert your funds to anywhere besides where they’re already going.
You leaned on your elbows against the bathroom counter, and closed your eyes with another heavy sigh. God, Tamara would be laughing at you so hard over this if she could see you now. At this point her mockery would be a welcome relief from the rest of the clusterfuck that remained of your life.
You had enough problems already, you didn’t need this on top of everything else. You just needed to focus on finding the cure for you and Nessa and then the two of you could settle down somewhere far away from the problems everyone else brought you. No room for lusting over dangerous men or grieving in a stupid and dangerous way anywhere in that plan.
So, instead of spiraling down a horny rabbit hole, you pulled on your softest tank top and a pair of underwear, too warm to handle anything else. Then you cranked up your ceiling fan to max, collapsed face-down on your shitty, old, squeaky spring mattress, pressed your face into the pillow, and screamed.
---
“I want everything you have on her.” Reaper ordered from somewhere behind Olivia, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes at the overtly for-show growling he always put on.
“The cheeky gatita you chased around last night?” She was used to the way he tended to hover menacingly as she tried to work at this point, yes, and had resigned herself to pushing through the occasional interruption for a greater amount of freedom the rest of the day. Even though he reminded her of a teacher watching her take a test, and made her want to sock him in the teeth so he would back the fuck off. But that didn't mean he had to treat her like some two-bit recruit squealing in their boots at his very presence.
“She's already on your screen, who the hell else would I be talking about?”
He was right, of course - Liv had already spent some time going over footage of last night’s chase to find out anything she could on you, but there wasn’t much to find besides the fact that you preferred to wear black, could teleport, and seemed to be fucking with everyone. The last two were things both herself and Talon could take advantage of, and the first one just meant you weren’t stupid. Though the highlighter-blue accents were a bit much, not that she was one to talk. “Not a lot there to find, bigshot.” She turned around and raised an eyebrow at him, absentmindedly picking at a hangnail on her ring finger. “I’ve had to start from scratch trying to find records of anyone with the same powers - I did find a record of burglaries at biotech firms and some heists going back a few years, but that’s it so far, besides some civvies saying she evacuated them from one disaster or another, but that could be someone else for all we know. You might have to tap into the offline networks for this one. You know, old school stuff. The people in those swanky places keeping everything on paper.”
Gross. She hated people who put things down on paper.
Even though she did.
“Files for the robberies say the thief wore a helmet with cat ears. Fits the description well enough.” She swiveled her chair back around to her screen and pulled up the hacked police reports. “A bit sloppy, though, getting seen by the cameras. But I guess when you can disappear at will it doesn't matter much. No on-file DNA matches or fingerprint markers, though - she doesn’t leave evidence behind, at least, so I doubt she’s completely hopeless.”
“Send them to me.” Reaper nodded even though he knew she was facing away from him, but she caught sight of it in the reflection on her screen.
“Doing that now.” She was already one step ahead of him, hitting enter on the command before picking up her energy drink, and closed the tabs, taking a long sip of her sweet, sweet caffeine. It was too sour for a lot of people, but that was the way she liked it. Kept her focused. “We gonna make her an offer? She'll need to clean up her act.”
“Oh, like you have?” Reaper hummed, barely audible, and Liv held back from rolling her eyes again. Honestly, Reaper didn’t know the half of it at this point. If he knew what she was doing on her off time she'd be totally toast. She just laughed instead of answering, keeping her potentially self-incriminating jokes to herself.
She didn’t need to see him to know the way he shook his head at her - she knew it by heart at this point whether she saw it or not. He actually answered her verbally, though, which was better than she usually got. “...We’ll see if she bites.”
“Oh, she definitely bites.” She chuckled and smiled to herself, even though Reaper was gone by the time she turned around again, making her face drop.
She hadn’t heard him leave.
Not like she ever fucking did.
---
The next morning, halfway across the world at Watchpoint Gibraltar, the man formerly known as Jack Morrison - now, only Soldier: 76 - stood stiff as a board behind Winston, half convinced he was being haunted by not-so-figurative Ghosts. On the large viewscreen in front of them sat a single screenshot of you, illuminated faintly in by the gold-tinted streetlights of Mexico City, waving nonchalantly at a traffic camera in a pair of fucking cat ears.
Because what the hell else would Y/n base a disguise on, really.
Some things never changed.
He narrowed his eyes as he tried to decipher the image of you before him, mentally comparing it against everything he could remember of the woman he once knew, for now firmly ignoring the pair of dog tags burning a hole in his pocket, the ones that weren’t his, that had called to him like a fucking siren last night as he lay awake, unable to fall asleep and overwhelmed with a gut-wrenching cocktail of nostalgia, guilt, and grief.
Because you couldn’t be her.
You’d almost cost them the op, all that information Overwatch needed to get the upper hand on Talon, and didn’t even seem to care about it. You’d been laughing the whole damn time, careless as to the chaos you could’ve caused. Did cause.
She wasn’t stupid enough to come out of hiding for something so trivial. Not unless she was seriously unhinged or something was very, very wrong.
He grit his teeth and dug his nails into the flesh of his arms hard enough for it to sting.
“I wanna know who she’s working for.” He said, moving a hand away from where he was nearly making himself bleed to rub at his forehead instead - the painful, red marks from where his visor had dug into his face still visible even hours later. He always got them, now, after wearing it for too long. He’d need to rework the headgear at some point, but there were always more urgent things to take care of. Whether it was the mask or the urgent things giving him headaches remained to be seen, but he had a good guess you were at least partially responsible for the one he was nursing now. “She was fucking toying with us and I wanna know why.”
“Yes, she did seem rather childish, waving to me in the cameras and everything.” Winston noted, and began typing away at the computer, the clacking of keys the only sound other than their own breaths, leaving Jack to stew in nothing but his own thoughts.
Fucking unbearable, honestly.
Because he just couldn’t let it go - the itching familiarity of that full-body laugh ringing in his ears, harkening back to cool Swiss summers, nights screaming at thunderstorms, hours spent stolen away from his responsibilities, and two people better left forgotten.
He couldn’t say he didn’t know that laugh.
But still, he stopped. He hesitated for just a moment, thinking over whether or not it was even relevant, because it couldn’t be her, it just couldn’t, but still...
It also couldn’t not be.
It was his job as a leader and his duty as part of a team to pursue any lead he could, even if they made him uncomfortable. Even if it brought back memories he would rather leave alone.
“And find a current status for Lieutenant Y/n Hawthorne and Vanessa Shepard.” He sighed, the names feeling heavy in his mouth sending guilt curling deep in his chest. If the bastards from Tricell hadn’t caught or killed them by now, god forbid. He’d liked to think they were living happily under the radar somewhere in the middle of nowhere - maybe Iceland, she’d always loved the black sand beaches and the quiet - but he had a sinking feeling that wasn’t the case, given your appearance last night.
There was only one person he’d ever met in his life that could do the kind of things you could, but he hated to admit the possibility that you were one and the same, considering your history. Even if he’d never seen Y/n again after she put herself on the old Overwatch’s shit-list.
It certainly seemed her speed to fuck with any agent she could find now that they were recalled, though - him, more noteably, even if she had no idea who he really was.
Hopefully.
Would she be mad at him, still? Happy he was alive? Mistrustful, sad?
...Murderous?
He had no way of knowing. That last day hadn’t been pretty.
He hoped you were able to keep Nessa safe, though, and away from the world that wanted her dead or in a lab. Do what he’d failed to.
He pushed away the memory flashing through his mind of the betrayed look on your face, and kept his focus on the screen in front of.
“She took the kid from Overwatch custody and went dark seven years ago.” After she’d knocked him unconscious and nearly killed some of their people. But Winston wouldn’t find any mention of it in her files. Very few people knew that part of the story, the higher ups were smart enough to keep most of it redacted, but still… that hadn’t stopped them from listing her as a traitor, even when loyalty was what had driven her to fight that day in the first place. “Never saw her again. She had the same powers as Hellcat here.”
And he’d just used her callsign to refer to you. Great. Just peachy.
Jack rubbed at his neck, feeling the ghost touch of unnaturally strong hands around his throat. She'd been crying. He remembered that much, if not anything else after that. Crying as she cut off his damn airway until he blacked out.
He sighed. “I would look at hospital records first, they both have medical issues. Athena should still have her personnel file somewhere, if anyone bothered to back it up.”
Unlike a good portion of information lost in the Swiss explosion, unfortunately. The knowledge gap had them at a disadvantage every turn where there shouldn’t be problems, and it drove him up a fucking wall. If Jack’s string of luck ran true, Y/n’s file would be lost, too. Not that he couldn’t fill in most of the gaps, but if he could avoid that discussion, he would. It was one rabbit hole he didn’t need to go down with his team.
Maybe he could get Angela to do it instead? She knew enough of the details...
Winston looked at him for a second, eyebrows drawn, almost like he was looking for something in his expression, but turned back to the computer before Jack could figure out what. “Of course.”
Either way, they couldn’t risk having Y/n for an enemy. Jack had seen the kind of carnage she’d been capable of, digging through those Tricell files after they’d found her, and he didn’t need his team in that kind of danger.
She had an aversion to harming innocents, true, but he wasn’t so sure she would count anyone in Overwatch in that category anymore - if the rage he’d seen overtake her that last day was still at the wheel or if she’d gotten to a better place.
Especially since you'd been told he was dead, leaving Angela as the one person in the organization you could trust - and even then, just barely - likely categorizing everyone else as a potential enemy rather than a probable ally.
If this was you, and that was a big if… maybe you could even change your mind about Overwatch a second time - maybe you missed being part of a team. He knew you did. Knew she did.
To hell with it, there was no way this wasn't you, was there?
Nobody else on the fucking planet would wear that shade of neon blue and put cat ears on their damn helmet at the same time.
But he wasn't one to talk about being tacky and on the nose, was he?
Jack sighed.
It would be a hard sell after what you’d been put through, he had to admit, but if he stood in an Overwatch base again after all this time, maybe you could, too. If only he had the chance to talk to you. Apologize for fucking up so badly, reassure you that they weren't a danger to Nessa anymore. They could all protect her, together. Like you'd planned. Ana would certainly be welcoming, if no one else, and Jesse was always great with kids.
And Nessa had to be somewhere around Hana's age by now, right?
He just… had to make sure you didn't murder him in a horrible, bloody fashion before he could get his mask off and everything would be fine.
Right. Sure.
...If you didn't kill him in a horrible, bloody fashion after he took off the mask, either.
A/N: This chapter's title brought to you by Lemon to a Knife Fight by The Wombats.
Anyway lms if you would mount Reaper in the middle of the street before your mind caught up with you. Mood.
Anyway I'm 32k into the draft so I think ill be posting twice a month? That feels sustainable.
Have fun lovelies, hope you enjoyed it! What was your favorite part?
Personally, I like the Jack angst because I'm mean.
