Where were we? (Jesse McCree/Reader) Part 1
This was requested by the lovely @miawolfo , who wanted a McCree with a female s/o who was once childhood friends/lovers with the cowboy and who, after they parted ways, got married and had a child. There’s a whole lot more to it, and you’ll see it as you read, but those are the basics. I had to make this into two parts because it was becoming waaay too long! I hope I did you justice on your request, sugar! I added some of my own headcanons for a childhood backstory, but please bear with me! Also, to be fair, Overwatch lore and ages make no sense.
Slight trigger warning for: mentions of abuse, cheating, and pregnancy. In case any of you may need them.
You giggle softly, leaning your shoulder against your friend. Young, inseparable rascals; that’s what your father called the two of you. Best friends through thick and thin, through hot and cold and dusk and dawn. You felt an utterly special connection to your friend, Jesse McCree. He was a young boy, two years older than you, about 10 years old, who adored old cowboy films and ranches. He was always outside, exploring and having fun, so you often joined him when you could.
Right now, you were sitting in his makeshift tree hideout together; something he’d put together for what he called “angry days”. Angry days for who, you didn't know, you just knew he came here often. Actually, it was your go-to spot for when you wanted to find him.
“We’ll always be friends, right, Jess?” You murmured, staring at the setting sun.
“Yeah.” He smiled, shoving you. “O’course we will!”
You found out three years later why he’d built that hideout, away from your neighborhood. It was because of his parents, and his father especially was awful to the poor boy. Now that you’d begun to understand your friend’s hardships and why he often had so many bruises, you became more aware, more gentle with him, you even took on a caring, familial role. You were 11 then, he was 13, and somehow you felt your friendship shifting. It was becoming different; you didn’t know how you could just feel it.
“We’re still friends, right?”
“Yeah. Always, doncha remember?”
He was 15 now, starting to become rebellious. Your parents didn’t like that, they didn’t know why he was doing it, so they made you stay away. Well, they thought they were able to keep you away from him. You knew now, you knew exactly why your friendship had started to change. You had grown feelings for your friend, and he seemed to have done the same. You were still so inseparable.
It started out awkwardly, with your confessions for one another being full of stammering and red faces. But you started to outgrow that, you became his pillar and his light, he treated you right, with respect, with love, with care. It was going really well, really.
Then the next year rolled around. Your 14-year-old self had to take a step back. Jesse was starting to meddle with a gang well known in your area, and it worried you. But you still cared deeply for Jesse, so you continued to support him. You tried to help him, you did. Sometimes you thought you could and you saw progress, but he kept spiraling into the rabbit-hole. You told him, you said it right out.
“Jesse, listen to me!” You grabbed his arm, desperate to make him see. “This isn’t the right path to take! You’re almost 17, I’m almost 15, you should know better! We both should!”
“I have no clue what yer sayin’ to me.” He growled, pulling away. “This may jus’ be one o’ the best things in mah life!”
“This cannot be good! It’ll never be good!”
His voice rose. “Maybe yer wrong!”
You fell silent, you two never yelled at each other. You both knew that it never led to anything good, you saw what yelling and fighting had done for adults and people your age alike.
“Sweetpea,” He began. “I’m sorry.”
“No.” You sniffled, taking a deep breath. “Talk to me again when you see that this won’t lead to good things.”
You thought that would’ve worked, that he would have tried. You were wrong.
You were back home, visiting your family. They had told you, you could stay with them as long as you needed to recover from... recent events. And now, you stood in their kitchen, thinking back to your childhood and your cowboy you missed dearly. You remember clearly the last words you said to him, his last expression, and, when you’d found out something had happened to him and some other deadlock members, how broken up you were about it. It’s been 15 years since you’d last seen Jesse McCree, and your heart still ached for him somehow.
You’d gotten married after a while, thinking you’d gotten over the man. That had been 9 years ago. The man you’d married was nice to you, he was handsome and willing to be there for you. You’d loved him, you had, but it was never like what you had felt for Jesse. Never. And now, here you are. Alone with a three-year-old daughter, and with a broken heart all over again. This time, the offense of the man you loved was greater than that of Jesse’s. Your husband had left you for another woman, whom he had been seeing for the last year and a half. All in secret, all because he thought that after having a child nothing had gone back to normal and, despite his desires to have a child as well, it just wasn’t for him. You knew the real reason though, and it broke your heart.
You had named your daughter Jessica since it had been up to you to choose the name. She was a beautiful girl, and from early on she had reminded you of McCree. She looked like you, her mother, but her personality was like the cowboy’s right from birth. Well, maybe not right from birth, but you could tell the spunk she’d have, mother’s intuition as they say.
McCree had recently been assigned to a mission in his hometown. He was both dreading the idea of going back into a town full of memories, good and bad, happy and sad, but was also looking forward to just getting the job done. He had set up camp in a hotel not far from where your favorite diner had been, but he tried his damnedest to push you from his thoughts. However, he couldn’t help the guilt that slowly crept through him when, in the back of his mind, a flicker of his abrupt leave flashed through his thoughts.
‘God damn it, McCree, what the hell did you put that girl through?’
‘Does she even choose to remember you?’
‘You can’t, she’s probably moved so far on without you.’
Growling to himself, McCree decided it was time for some fresh air and a bit of a scope around the area. His mission here was to find, make tabs and reports on any Deadlock members, and to make sure that Blackwatch could clearly have a quick means of going in and out without alerting the whole city. Why? Because Overwatch was sending Blackwatch to eradicate the gang.
“Time to get to work.” McCree lit a cigar, taking a step into the gloomy Thursday darkness.
