#mccree drabble

[drabblewatch]

Headcanon Request: mccree, reaper, hanzo or zenyatta getting together w/a single mom reader?

Note: Since it was so long, I only did McCree! I’d be happy to do others in the future! :D

“Listen, I was wonderin’ if, you know, wanted to hang out sometime,” McCree started, his voice sounding almost flustered as he danced over the words. It could have been the fact that your gaze wasn’t wholly on the cowboy, as it constantly drifted back towards your young daughter, and she had found quite the entertainment in having a little adventure with her figurines  around one of the couches in the rec room. 

“Hang out?” You couldn’t help but feel curious about what Jesse meant, if there was some deeper intention beyond simply spending time together as friends, fellow agents for the organization. 

McCree looked even more flustered at the aspect of having to be a bit more descriptive. He tugged at the front of his hat after a moment, seemingly to adjust it over his eyes, but you’d seen it enough to recognize it as a nervous tick. His face looked a bit flush. 

“Well uh, yeah. I suppose most people would call it a date,” he said lowly, still tugging on that hat. You wonder if it was something deeply meaningful to him. “I mean, I don’t mean t’be too sudden about it, but we’ve been gettin’ to know one another really well and--”

“Jesse,” You feel a thin creeping of annoyance. Not at him, absolutely not, but at the prospect of having something to plan so last-minute, something that you actually wanted to do with someone for once. “I can’t just go out with you on the drop of a dime--and I would want to--but you know I have to find a babysitter first to watch-”

“I know what’cha gonna say,” McCree interrupts you. “And we ain’t going anywhere fancy. No stuck-up restaurant or anything like that. I was thinkin’ one of the parks on the mainland of Spain.”

His words made you pause. In the couple times you tried to date with a young child on your hand, some of your partners had been the ones to suggest getting someone to watch your daughter, or going out of their way to make sure that she wouldn’t be joining.

It was nice, but a little confusing, considering it would be your first date with McCree. 

“McCree,” You started, your thoughts beginning to toil around, worrying that he was overplanning the whole thing, feeling obliged to do something when he really wanted something else, when-- “I really can just get someone to watch her, you don’t have to act like you’re-”

Again, you were interrupted, though this time not by the words of the cowboy in front of you, but instead your young daughter practically running into his legs. She was fast-growing, but still not even tall enough to reach the bottom of his hips. 

“Mr. McCree!” She shouted, raising up one hand to show off one of her little figurines to him. “Look what I got! He looks like you!” In her hand was a small figure of what could have been a cowboy, all things considered--he had a hat at least that resembled what the man often wore. She mimicked the sound of a tiny gunshot a couple times, making Jesse smile and, after a moment, kneel down to her level.

“Y’see, what this cowboy right here really needs is a horse to ride out into the sunset on,” He says, gently taking the figure from her tiny hands and looking it over.

“But I don’t have a horse,” the little girl whined, her face drooping for a moment. “Can he still be a real cowboy without one?”

“Of course he can,” McCree gave her the figure back, then gently rubbed a hand over her head. “A horse is just something extra to make him cool.”

After a moment or two more, she ran off, back into the heart of the rec room to continue her little adventure over the couch cushions. You and McCree watched the young girl for a while, silent--at least, that was until the man filled it with his voice.

“...There’s a little toy store near the park I’m thinking of,” He said. “When was the last time she got a chance to go shopping?”

You offer a shrug.

“I’ve been so busy, she hasn’t really been out of the base that much since Winston recalled everyone.”

You turn your face just to catch McCree gazing at you, his eyes looking a little wide, filled with some level of excitement quite reminiscent of what you often saw in your daughter’s own.

“So then it’s a date?” He asked. “We go to the park, and then we go check out that toy store? I’ll buy her whatever she wants--can’t have a cowboy without a horse, after all. Maybe even a lil’ ranch set.”

The gesture was unspoken, the meaning at least, but it didn’t fly over your head in the slightest. A blush worked over your cheeks as you regarded him, feeling a little leap in your chest as you answered,

“...it’s a date.”

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Drabble Request:  WB Suki! recently i've come to the conclusion that i haven't been actually, seriously been hugged since i was like, 8, over 11 years ago so im kinda-very touch starved (a prof put their hand on my back and i almost cried lol). could i get either some hcs or small scenarios with mccree, genji and hanzo with a super touch-starved s/o? like they want it, really need it and usually melt into it but they're weird about asking bc they dont know how so the guys are intuitive about their needs. Thanks!!

McCree

His hands are warm. 

So warm. 

They don’t burn you, but comfort your body like the heat from a crackling fire. It brings up vivid thoughts of sitting before a hot, flickering flame, your shoulders surrounded by a blanket and your hands outstretched, palms out, feeling the soft licks of heat in the air.

His hands are a comfort like none other, and he loves to smother you in that comfort. He touches you as if to make up for the lost years of physical affection, to assure you that he’s there, to lift you up after a bad day. 

His hands on your shoulders in the morning, when the two of you are trying to avoid running into one another in your groggy blindness.

His hands rubbing over your arms when the two of you are on the couch, watching a movie.

His palms pressing against your cheeks, holding your face as he pulls you into a gentle, loving kiss.

Jesse McCree’s hands are so very, very warm. 

Genji

Dexterous. Careful. Conniving. They are the hands like what you’d expect of a trained thief, a hacker, or a ninja in his case. His fingers are worn in some aspects, but nothing that you notice when he’s always, constantly touching you.

Genji never seems to stray from your side for long unless he needs to, and on down-days that seems to be a rarity. He’s some odd combination of partner and service cyborg, and sometimes seems more attentive than you are for your own mental health. You’ve learn to trust his words as much as your own, often falling into his arms whenever he opens them for you. 

The two of you have dealt with hurt in your own ways, but there’s something calming about being together. Something sweet about how he’s always touching you, always holding your hand, as if he’s afraid you’ll wander off. His hugs are tight, firm, grounding you to the moment and his heartbeat.

Nights are often spent with him stroking your cheek, watching you fall asleep.

Hanzo

Though he seems unmovable, Hanzo always seems so shy when he indulges in the common moments of physical comfort. Unsure. Inexperience is nothing more than an initial misunderstanding, and it takes some time for you to realize that his hesitation is often from his worry in overwhelming you. Irony aside, his moments of physical comfort are honest and true--his hands touch you with gingerness, and his arms wrap around you like the winds of a storm: powerful, full of awe and wonder. 

Much like the feeling of protection of being buried in a blanket in the wake of a rainstorm, Hanzo’s hugs are firm and tight, seemingly endless in the moments when he doesn’t want to let you go. Sometimes in the dead of night, the two of you in bed together, even he shares in some of the tears and emotions. He’s healing too, past wounds you can’t begin to understand, but loving you helps just like the way you love him.

He is the loving storm.

[drabblewatch]

Hello! I've been dealing with some worse than usual aches and pains because of work, could I please request genji or mccree giving reader a massage?

“Y’gotta loosen up a bit, babycakes,” the words practically purr through the air, dripping from McCree’s mouth like sweet syrup, though you can barely focus on anything other than his hands on your shoulders. His fingertips dig into the muscle, gently yet firm enough to rub away some of the aches and pains deep within your body. Knots of tension had formed across your shoulders and down your back, and McCree seemed more than apt to find them all.

It’s a relaxing moment between the two of you, settled on the couch in the rec room, laying back against the man’s warm, soft body. 

“Can you just...do this forever?” You ask, voice mellow in the trance of the achey relief. McCree chuckles lowly. You feel his thumbs pressing into the curve of your shoulders as they push against another hard, annoying knot of tension.

“Maybe,” He says, gently leaning his body forward, just enough to press his face in the crook of your shoulder and neck. “The fee for this here lovin’ is one kiss fer’ lil ol’ me, darling.”

“That’s pretty pricey,” You joke, and turn your head to the side, gently nuzzling your cheek against his until your lips meet in a soft, gentle peck. “...but I think I can afford that much.”

The two of you still for a moment, enjoying the warmth shared between the press of your cheeks, your bodies. It’s a peaceful moment, without someone to barge in, without a mission to distract you, without the thought of anything but the feeling of McCree’s hands pressing over your body. 

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can i req a comfort drabble of jesse with a transguy s/o whose ass is being kicked by their dysphoria so they just kinda bury themselves in the hair on his chest and cry about how they wish they looked like him etc?? it's okay if u don't have time or anything!!

“You know,” Jesse says as he runs a hand through your hair. “I used to feel like you are some years back.”

His voice is soft, something reminiscent of a coo or loud whisper. It fills the air around you as you nuzzle closer against the man’s warm, soft chest, covered with a layer of scratchy hair that only makes him feel all the softer, in a way. It covers most of the scars and tattoos across his body, but you’re more focused on the hair itself. His muscles. His shape. It looks so good on him, so right.

It’s been a long few minutes since you finally stopped feeling entirely like shit, which is why Jesse started to fill the silence with his voice instead, trying to shove aside the depressive emotions that had hit you like a freight truck.

However, his words seem mildly confusing. You glance up to him, vaguely curious, before returning to your spot with your face buried in his chest.

“I mean--I didn’t have all these scars n’ muscles and, well, I didn’t get all this hair until I got older n’ bigger,” McCree takes a moment to shrug, then strokes your hair again. “And like--I mean you got more years on ya darlin’. You don’t get this stuff overnight, takes time, and we can work on ways t’help you get there together yeah?”

You hummed against his chest, refusing to move, if only because he was comfortable to lay on.

“Yer’ handsome as hell no matter watcha look like, sweetpea, but I’ll help ya however I can.”

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Hi If you get a chance could you maybe do a comfort request with Jesse ? Over the last few days I've realised that none of my friends actually like me, they only talk to me when they need something or when I'm giving them free cinema tickets and I just feel so alone right now because I don't have anyone else that'll put up with me but they treat me like crap, my mental health if fucked and I don't know what to do anymore

Jesse looks a little unsure of himself when you open the floodgates of thoughts and emotions, your eyes watery and throbbing with the pressure of both tears and emotions. The two of you stand there in near-silence as your stomach drops. Fear quickly began to take hold when you worry that you’ve said too much, overloaded the man too quickly with issues he might not want to deal with at the moment.

He just got back from a mission a few days ago. The two of you haven’t had a lot of a chance to talk. He looks tired, he looks hungry, he doesn’t want to hear about your problems and--

The sound of your name shocks you from your thoughts, though not as much as the feeling of hands on your shoulders. It’s only then that you realize you had begun to back up, tears dripping down your eyes and heart racing inside your chest. Jesse’s hands are on your shoulders, anchoring you to the ground, to reality, before a subsequent panic attack can whisk you away.

“Breathe,” He says. McCree’s voice is low and calming. He looks so concerned for you in that moment, so worried--the look only seems to get stronger when you meet his gaze. “Just....breathe. Let’s go somewhere better t’talk about this, sweetpea.”

It doesn’t take too long for the two of you to find yourselves in the privacy of your shared quarters, especially not when you’re tucked against his chest, carried gingerly in the man’s arms like something of royalty. McCree always treated you like royalty.

You’re not sure how long it lasts, spilling the rest of your guts out to the man as the two of you lay on the bed. McCree doesn’t care when your sobs turn into hiccups, or when you get tears all over his serape, or when you have to take a minute or two just to breathe. He listens to everything, only speaking when he poses a question or two to clarify something.

He’s stroking your hair by the time you’re done. Your face, pressed against his chest (any extra bits and bobs long since discarded in favor of your comfort), can feel when his chest rumbles as he speaks.

“If they don’t ‘ppreciate you, then they’re not your friends,” He said. “I know it’s not somethin’ you wanna hear, but you don’t need people in your life that doesn’t treat ya right. It’s not fair for them to take advantage of you like that, honeybun.”

He strokes a gentle hand over your cheek, gently encouraging you to nuzzle against his chest.

“Nobody should stay with someone who treats them like shit--they’ll bring you down with them.”

You’re silent for a little bit, deliberating on his words. 

“...You sound like you know this from experience,” You say, words spilling from your lips in a soft, muted whisper.

McCree’s chest rumbles as he laughs, a moment of almost-morbid amusement that takes a couple seconds to place outside his normally easy-going attitude.

“Had a lot of people I called m’friends when I was younger,” He sighs, shifting his body only slightly so he could hold you better. “Most of ‘em just liked me for my talent in shootin’ a gun. One of the reasons I got caught in the bust that put my ass in Blackwatch. Nobody cared enough to make sure I was alright.”

More silence between the two of you. The air felt warmer at least, McCree’s strong arms around you carefully lulling your thoughts into a calmed stupor.

“Just lookout for yourself first for me, darlin’,” McCree whispered, watching and feeling you fall asleep against him. “You deserve so much.”

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hey suki, I'm feeling rlly down bc my uncles dog killed one of the kittens a stray cat had, the other 2 are fine but I'm still rlly sad and I just want to know if it's ok u have the soft cowboi comforting reader who's vv sad about something similar idk anyways I'd also like to thank u for being so great

It all started with a knock on the door. Soft, sensitive, giving you a few seconds to react if you wanted to do so in the first place. When a response didn’t come, the door opened, revealing the half-kept casual form of McCree, minute one hat, standing in the doorway. You almost didn’t recognize him in such a casual gettup.

His eyes found you without hesitation, sitting on the edge of your bed and staring down into your lap, at the two kittens in your lap who are sound asleep. You wonder if they even realize that they lost a sibling, or if they’re too soft and innocent to ponder such a thing.

McCree doesn’t say anything as he steps closer towards you, settling himself on the bed and gently, carefully, plucking one of the kittens from your lap before it can start rolling off your leg in its sleep. Before the kitten can much protest, the cowboy merely rubs the top of its head with a few fingers, gently ushering it back into a nap.

“...It wasn’t yer’ fault any, darlin’.” 

You purse your lips.

“But it was so small. So innocent.”

You hear McCree hum, a soft noise, before an arm gently wraps around your shoulders.

“Lotta bad things happen y’know? Sometimes we can stop ‘em from happenin’, and sometimes we can’t. Just gotta accept them sometimes--don’t mean we can’t continue to help those who are still here.” 

The words seem at least a little confusing, jumbling around your mind as you try to take them in through the filter of wilted happiness. The kitten shifts in your lap and McCree pulls you against him, gently.

“Can’t say fer’ certain where anyone goes after they pass, but I can at least say the lil’ furball is somewhere nice. Someone up there is takin’ good care of them now, darlin’, so you just gotta make sure that these two young’ins are taken care of too.”

You sniffle after a moment. McCree turns his face and nuzzles it to the top of your head, letting you take a few moments to sift your emotions over his attempt at life advice. 

“Just breathe easy for me now. Everything’s alright.”

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fantasyfriendly replied to your post “Deadlock!McCree has a very sweet S/O who is like a mom to everyone in...”

This just makes me think, when Deadlock gets busted up by Overwatch, his first question to Gabe in the interrogation is "Where are they?!" because he's not sure what scares him more: Them dead, or captured.

Gabe isn’t sure what he’s more surprised about by this point: the fact that they finally busted the head boss of the Deadlock gang, or the fact that he is more concerned about what everyone had assumed was simply one of his whores more than his own well-being. The gang leader all but punches Gabe in the face at least twice when the interrogator didn’t give him an answer, demanding to know where his ‘darlin’ was and if they’d hurt them.

Nobody honestly knew how to respond. They’d expected him to play dumb, toss every damn soul under the bus to save his sorry ass, but there he is, practically tied to a chair, still gnashing his teeth like some sort of angry coyote.

“Where are they?” He  demands for what must be the fifth time in the interrogation. “If you hurt them, so much as put a’ finger on my lil’ darlin’, I fill fuck yer’ shit up so goddamn bad that you’ll-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Gabriel all but snarls, slamming a hand down onto the table, staring the man in his cold, dark eyes. He needs to start making him talk, so they can actually get to what Jack ‘Golden Boy’ Morrison actually wanted out of him in the first place. “Look, your....your lover, spouse or whatever the hell they are to you--” He notices the sudden perk in McCree’s attention. “--they’re....alright. Safe. We can’t connect them to anything directly, so they’re not under any legal shitstorm. Nobody’s touched a hair on their head.”

The information seems to calm McCree intensely, and Gabriel notices how the man suddenly relaxes, sits back in the chair; his eyes never leave from their steely gaze, however, as if knowing that there was an extra caveat to Gabriel’s words.

“I’m gonna take a stab that if I don’t work with ‘ya....”

Gabe smiles, the man finally getting the subtle words, yet unspoken. 

“If you decide to play dumb about what we wanna know, then I can haul your ‘darlin’ in for conspiracy with a criminal on multiple charges. Can’t say where they’d end up, maybe in some nice, cozy jail somewhere on the other side of the country. So if you’re smart, pendejo, then you won’t have to worry about them at all.”

McCree glared Gabriel down. The air felt cold, chilled like eye with the subtle rage simmering just beneath his skin.

“Then I suppose y’got a deal.”