Yeah, so Oni x Zhuque ain’t gonna be done by Halloween, BUT definitely by Gency week (I’ll make it fit in one of the prompts, watch me)!
I had this fic done for over a month and NOW I GET TO SHARE IT!!! :D
With any luck, I’ll try to write out one or two quick drabbles for a few more days in McSombra week 2018. In the meantime, enjoy this!
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Characters: Jesse McCree, Olivia “Sombra” Colomar
Warnings: None
Additional Tags: Van Helsing!McCree, Demon Hunter!Sombra, Fantasy Setting, Sliiiiiiight angst (not really), Fluff, Kissing, youdidntreadthelastoneshutup
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It was quite the hefty reward, McCree had to admit that.
His profession was dangerous. One his dearly beloved was against at times, but she knew how much he loved it, and she melted under his smile every time he was exhilarated from the hunt. Before every new target he went after, she’d give him a good-luck kiss and he’d promise her to return alive, healthy and in one piece. With the exception of any new bite marks, scars and scratches he’d occasionally come home with, his promise was fulfilled every time.
Until now, he never worried her too much. He was usually hired to kill off vampires, werewolves, failed sentient science projects and any other vicious beasts that would terrorize quaint villages or large kingdoms. But now, he had to fight a new monster. One that possessed a force completely foreign to him:
Magic.
McCree had encountered a fair number of demons in his younger days, but never had he actually managed to kill one. He’s dealt with enchantments and their aftershock, but never succeeded with the enchanter themselves. That was what worried her so much. McCree knew what was running through her head, and attempted to calm her.
“Darlin’, you don’t have to worry about me-”
“I know I don’t have to, but I still do! Jesse, what if it-”
“It ain’t gonna do nothin’ to me. I’ll come back, I always do.”
“I know, it’s just-” her sentence was cut off with a strong arm wrapping around her waist and a kiss to her forehead. She let out a deep breath and relaxed in his hold. “Please be careful.”
Once again, he promised her everything he has in the past, but with words unspoken.
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McCree made his way through the thick forest and travelled beyond what any of the locals dared. He had entered the demons’ domain, and now only sheer luck could save his soul, lest an ancient spirit granted mercy on him. Even if he was lucky enough for to receive such a fortune, the legends said that even the most powerful of Gods were fearful of The Shadow.
McCree has heard many tales of The Shadow. Despite nobody seeing more than an opaque black mist and many of their loved ones vanishing, then returning as lost and broken souls, he didn’t know much about the mysterious entity. Not the full extent of its power, nor its motives. Still, he brought the strongest weapon and ammunition he possessed. Better to be over-prepared rather than underprepared.
The rustling of leaves in the distance usually would have been disregarded as a rabbit or squirrel trying to outrun another animal, but when the rustling grew closer, he aimed in the direction of the noise. It grew louder and then eventually became replaced with footsteps. Accompanying those footsteps was a hooded figure with their hand grasping a weapon of their own.
Due to the heavy shadow the hood gave under the full moon, the only parts of their face that was visible to McCree was the tip of the nose and below, and even their mouth was shielded by a red scarf. It didn’t take him long to conclude this person was female from the form-fitting clothing they were wearing. They spoke, but their words were barely audible as they were filtered through the fabric covering their lips.
“What do you think you’re doing here? These are my hunting grounds,” they said threateningly. McCree could only guess what emotion their expression held, and his first guess was disgust.
“I’ll have you know that I was hired to come here. I have a meet ‘n’ greet with a beast, and I’m not leaving empty-handed,” he drawled.
“ ‘The Shadow’ doesn’t exist,” they told him. “Whatever reward you were promised, you won’t get it.”
“How did you-”
“You’re not the first person to come here in search of it. The real demon from those stories you’ve probably heard is The Reaper. Do you really think a bullet will stop the God of death?”
McCree glanced to the weapon in his hand, which suddenly felt very small. Even though he stood at a much taller height than whoever this person was in front of him, they definitely managed to make themselves seem much more powerful. McCree only knew one other person who was capable of that.
“Leave, Vaquero!”
Okay, that’s it.
He may not have known much about demons, but he wasn’t stupid, either.
He stepped closer to her. She raised her gun, but didn’t shoot. With every step McCree took, no shots were fired.
When the distance between them was short enough, he gripped the wrist of the hand holding the gun pointed at his chest. Her gloves were sturdy, but even through the tough leather, he managed to put enough pressure on that one place along her inner wrist.
Every demon’s weak spot.
Sure enough, within seconds, he could see the rest of her face, illuminated by her eyes which took on a bright, golden hue. The light of the moon was extinguished around them, but instead of black mist surrounding her, it was pure dark magic. Dark enough to consume a wildfire and effectively swallowing both of them whole. She winced in his hold. Her legs were slowly buckling under her as if the strength in her body was being drained. McCree knelt to her level and removed her hood. Her long hair flowing over her right shoulder like a waterfall silently breaking through a faulty dam. The glow of her eyes dimmed until he could vividly see her purple irises looking back at him. Hundreds of words and emotions swam through them as they just stared at each other in silence.
She expected him to be angry. He had every right to be. She kept this secret from him for so long and-
Her thoughts were cut off as the silk scarf was gently pulled down, revealing her entire face. She almost wished he would be angry with her, because it probably would have hurt a lot less than what he asked next:
“Olivia, why didn’t you tell me?”
She wanted to tell him everything. She truly did. But all it would do is place him into a position nobody deserves to be in. With no other alternative answer immediately coming to mind, she crashed her lips against his, their kiss mingled with her tears. They held each other’s embrace, the chill of the night not affecting the human in the slightest, for he had his demon keeping him warm.
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Ta-daaaaaaaaa… I’m bad at kiss scenes, but I tried... probably won’t be the last one I write, either.
Blame itshigh-boop for getting me to freak out about this skin combo. Thanks to them, they got me from liking this ship to loving it. Tbh, this ship needs more love! Thanks for inspiring me, man! Happy McSombra week!!!
AU where McCree leads Deadlock and Sombra leads Los Muertos and the two join forces towards world domination (thus McCree never lost his arm). Give me my villainous OTP goddmanit. McCree’s look is inspired by his Riverboat skin and Sombra is from the masquerade comic.
I need new mcsombra week and new ideas for fanfiction. smb please~ gimme it. or just support me with ideas or likes or comments to create blog for this pairing LOL
Me: *reads McSombra Week 2018 prompts*
My Brain: Oh hell no. You have too much to do and no time to do it. This should be the last- what are you doing?
Me: *getting ideas* ...Nothing...
My Brain: What the-?! That’s not- NO, DON’T WRITE THE- goddammit...
Me: *writes the fic anyway*
I mashed up days 2 and 4 for this one. Sorry it's a bit rushed, so it’s not as good as yesterday’s entry. You know what day it is, so just... just read the fic...
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Characters: Jesse McCree, Olivia “Sombra” Colomar
Warnings: None
Additional Tags: Deadlock!McCree, Los Muertos!Sombra, Sombra is an expert at blackmail, bribery and pissing McCree off, Crappy references to in-game interactions
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She ran into the shaded alley, fumbling to reload her weapon. They were hot on her trail, and for being decked out in bright colors and many of them notorious for being very loud, god damn some of them are stealthy sons of bitches!
When she was at full ammo, she threw herself behind a pile of crates. She was in enemy territory now. In all honesty, this ‘gang rivalry’ crap was stupid in her opinion, and all because of a failed relationship between the leaders. On top of that, they just had to raid the same shipment at the same time. Sure, she found their hidden stash, but she couldn’t carry any of them back without getting caught. If she came back empty handed, her gang would definitely have her ass for that…
Now if she brought back a person…
Her thoughts were cut off when the faintest sounds of footsteps reached her ears. Her weapon was held at the ready as she willed her breaths to be silent. When dead silence was all that filled the air, she slowly rose up to observe her surroundings. Her long hair stuck to the sides of her face and the back of her neck as sweat formed from the burning sun and the heat within her chest and head.
A quick swivelling of her head, and she saw her surroundings were clear. The sounds of her running muffled by the dust under her boots, if she could barely hear herself surely no one else could-
Darkness filled her vision as the butt of another gun flew into her forehead as she came upon the exit to the alley.
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She woke up in that same alley, the sun at a lower point in the sky, and even more boxes around herself and the person in front of her…
Wait…
Shit!
“Well, well… You’re not what I expected. No, not at all...” they taunted. Their face hidden from the glowing violet hologram in between them. She could barely make out an image of herself within the bright aura. Their voice was definitely young and masculine, and far too confident for her comfort.
She attempted to stand up, but her wrists and ankles were bound. Her head was throbbing and her back was stiff from the unbalanced hunched sitting position she was stuck in.
The mysterious person continued scrolling on his holoscreen. “Outlaw? Too obvious. Orphan? Tch, who isn’t these days? Oh... what do we have-”
“The hell do you want?” she spat.
“I want information, Jane."
She forced herself to retain her laughter.
“I’m not tellin’ you shit about Dead-”
“Not them, you! I have my dirt on everyone in your pathetic little friend group. You, on the other hand, are a mystery to me.”
“How so?” she drawled, voice still groggy as she tried to fully recover from going unconscious.
“I can give you the answer to the most burning question you have, but only if you do something for me in return.”
“What’re you tryin’ to say? I don’t speak that flowery english you got there.”
“Ugh, Americans,” he groaned before pulling down the holoscreen so she could finally see his face. He had an undercut with bright pink spiked hair. Neon yellow bones were painted over his olive skin and dusty, loose-fitting clothes. If she wasn't mistaken, she’d guess he’s quite a bit younger than herself. Definitely somewhere between late teens and early 20s.
“I can tell you why they abandoned you.”
“Well no shit they left me, you knocked me out. It’s every man for himself-”
“Not Deadlock, Jane!” he practically hissed as frustration seethed into his voice. “I’m talking about your family.”
“Don't call me that! Besides, my parents were killed, they didn’t-”
“How do you know for certain? Tell me one memory you have of them.”
She fell silent. She fought the tears forming behind her eyelids. She was stronger than this, she can't cry in front of the enemy.
He scoffed. “That’s what I thought.”
“If y'know so much about me, then how am I a mystery?”
“That’s my own business. Now do we have a deal or not?"
She fell silent again. Not knowing what the better option would be in this situation.
"Tell you what: If you refuse, I’ll let you go. I’ll even help you take some of this,” he gestured to the crates surrounding them “back to your ‘secret base’,” he finished with air quotes and sarcasm in his tone.
She shouldn’t take this deal. It was simple enough. Just say no and go back to the gang with a few boxes to get her share of the money and food for the night. The choice is so easy…
“Deal,” she agreed reluctantly.
“Just get your posse out of Castillo in thirty days. Leave my territory, and I’ll tell you what you want to know the most.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You can’t not do it, vaquera. You already made the deal. But if that were to happen, either you broke the deal or died. Believe me, I’ll know which one it is.”
Using both hands, she took off her tattered hat and held it over her chest. “You have my word.”
Satisfied with this response, he removed a knife from a hidden holster on his leg. He make quick work of sawing the rope from her hands and feet before helping her up.
"What about the information you wanted? I can't exactly give you any if we're god knows how many miles apart."
The pink-haired teen smirked on a way that made her want to smack him square in the face, but she held her composure and rubbed her wrists instead. "Don't you worry about that. I'll be in touch, amiga."
She was beginning to regret this more by the second. He didn't disclose how much he wanted, yet all the got out of it was the answer to one question that benefitted nobody. She probably wouldn't even be able to go back 'home' with any loot after all.
“In the meantime, call me Sombra,” he said as he held his hand out, offering her revolver back. “I'm sure it'll be a pleasure doing business with you, Muh-Cree. If that even is your real name."
She took her gun from his hand and secured it into the holster on her thigh. "I don't know what the hell you've heard, but the name’s not Jane.”
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Again, sorry about this story being so rushed and the stupid ‘me vs my brain’ fight at the start. Serious question though, who goes through similar battles with their morals/instincts when they write/draw/goof around the computer???
Anyway, Happy McSombra Week! (This is unfortunately all I can contribute. Maybe next time I’ll do all the days!)
