Hanzo Mccree Bottom Reyes Requested Angle

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Reboot Canceled! I suggest you all give your best to find the hub before then. M-Rated for heavy sexual content. The cowboy scrapes back, his heels on the edge of the sidewalk, but the archer once again closes the distance. Two races fight among humans, locked in a war, and they have forgotten their fear of the past and future. Truthfully, she was baffled that she hadn't figured it out sooner.

It goes like this: As if sensing his presence, she would turn, give a brief moment of eye contact, and then drag her index finger across her throat. Hanzo would only allow a polite smile and wave in return. That seemed to rile her more than any retaliation could.

But this morning he was too late for Helen; the devil seemed to have retreated back into hell. Hanzo had prayed she would be holding up a PTA meeting. Hanzo recognizes her as Grace, the woman who first welcomed them, and the one who had been so insistent at pestering them. How could he forget when she was on his doorstep every other day? You know, inspecting property, issuing fines.

Startled, he flips through them; page after page is fine print, all except for the very front where a single, bolded word stands out against the rest: Hanzo stares back blankly at them; one woman happily chattering away, and the other, Helen, eyes narrowed in a smug countenance. Reading can be hard sometimes.

How dare she touch his cowboy. No, he assures, no not his. Not his at all. The archer blinks; where had that come from? It was a good thing Helen caught it while I was on the clock, otherwise you might be facing a serious penalty! Hanzo fights back the urge to roll his eyes so hard they pop out of his head. I figured at your age, you would need reading glasses for such thing.

How old are you, fifty? You two should change your mailbox, before someone with real power notices it and takes action. And you should read the rest of the ordinances, just to make sure nothing else is out of place! She procures said handbook. All he knows is that it weighs enough that if it were to plummet from the top of a bookshelf, it would kill any stranger that wandered into its path.

Then Grace files back into her golf cart, turns on the definitely illegal sirens glued to the top, waves back, and sets off at a pace of a whopping 5 mph. The cowboy grimaces, glancing between the two of them. Heath, clueless Heath, picks that exact moment to throw open a window and lean out of it. McCree sheepishly waves back, letting his arms drop to his sides.

Got lots of thing to do. They turn at their mailbox, following up the path to the house. The cowboy pauses, shooting the other a look of incredulity. Hanzo, however, does not know of this. He remains peacefully unaware, sound asleep in his bed.

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That is, until he is awoken by the loudest banjo strumming he thinks he has ever heard, reverberating from somewhere beyond his door.

The archer springs to his feet, eyes wild, hair splayed, a dagger procured from under his pillow gripped in his palm, completely ready to murder the assailant who was, by the sound of it, most likely Blake Shelton. Hand on the doorknob, he tugs it open, and is immediately assaulted by the oncoming song. He promptly slams the door shut again, back barricaded against it for good measure.

Still, the beat carries relentlessly, pulsating even through the wooden panels. The first thought that pops into his head is what sort of home intruder breaks in just to barrage his ears with country music? Is it some odd kind of Psychological warfare? Hanzo presses the heels of his palms into his eyes and groans.

The cowboy was going to be the death of him. Or, he was going to be the death of the cowboy, if he managed to catch him first and suffocate him with his own hat. The archer steels himself, clenches his jaw, and throws open the door once more. Once again, music bombards his ears as he marches down the steps, past the Couch of Mistakes, and into the kitchen, following along like a furious victim of the Deep South version of the Pied Piper.

McCree is perched on a stool, propped against the kitchen counter as he nods his head along to the musical equivalent of their horrid sofa. Hanzo scoffs, the tips of his ears burning. Before he can interject with another threat, the gunslinger yells over the music, his mouth going a mile a minute. McCree gestures to the item resting between them: They run this place, they gotta be the higher ups she was afraid of.

Eyes growing wide in recognition, Hanzo sits up straighter, suddenly feeling wider awake than he had all day. I believe it has a solid chance. What exactly did you have in mind? Oh, maybe even a nice coleslaw! Now that got Hanzo laughing. Hidden deep within the discount aisle, under unpopular toys and romance novels like buried treasure, was exactly what they were looking for. Helen draws back her curtains as she balances against the cushy pillows of the window seat.

Clutching her binoculars in such a way as to not chip her exemplary red nails, she glances towards her neighbors. She was on her third cup of soy milk, strolling by her window when, out of her peripherals, Helen had spotted him. The man had crouched low to the ground, gripped the base of their mailbox, and heaved it straight out of the ground, unearthing a good chunk of lawn with it.

What sort of small business owner was capable of that feat of strength? But what she really wanted to see was their project; the two were standing in just the way to block her view. Helen shifted to the other side of the window, craning her neck to get a better angle. She could see a box, a rather large one at that, and the previous mailbox slain in the yard.

When the two men sidestep to marvel at their work, Helen drops her binoculars. They clatter to the floor with a series of dull thuds. It almost makes her wish she were blind. Moss green fades to off-white, and God, it even shimmers long the unsightly pattern.

In fact, it is not an average mailbox at all. Helen looks on as Henry painstakingly stencils new words onto the side, in size fourteen Calibri. The housewife snatches up her binoculars once more to read the text beneath the gills. Helen screeches in absolute fury, closing her curtains once more before dashing off to her phone.

We look mighty fancy. Hanzo pauses before checking it off, pencil hovering above the handbook. He looks to the cowboy adjacent to him, elbow propped against one end of the Plaid Nightmare. It will be a pretty sight out there, figured you might wanna come witness it for yourself. You know, with me. Hanzo cocks his head a bit to the side as he analyses the other man.

They stand barefoot at the very edge of the lawn. Fresh dew marks their toes, the cold night of the desert settling into their skin once again. The archer finds himself pinned next to the bass mailbox. He figured if their home was already tacky enough with the couch inside and the simple presence of the gunslinger, he might as well be the tackiest.

Hanzo squints into the darkness, scanning the dim exterior of the house. We could cause an electrical outage and wipe out half the town with how bright these suckers are gonna be. The connection sparks; the cowboy drops it to the ground, startled. With a whiff of burning ozone, the house lights up. Blinding had been an understatement.

He swears, for a moment, the sun is put to shame. The light immersing the entire neighborhood is similar to most of the people residing there: When their vision returns, fading to something other than pure, inescapable white, Hanzo finally views the marvel that is their house.

Bulbs, white and fat twist along the gutters, not only lining the roof, but dangling down, covering every other foot of the house in a string of white. Their home is a kitschy Jupiter, surrounded by bright, celestial moons. The Christmas lights stutter, and the entire neighborhood falls pitch black.

Then, down the street, machinery groans, back-up generators screeching in anguish. The lights flash on once more and stay that way. He takes a seat. Surely, by now, people have noticed the small star burning in their neighborhood, have rushed to their windows to gape at the spectacle, maybe even called the fire department. They would not be able to distinguish one strand from the other, only a ball of light replacing the home that was once there, two silhouettes side by side in the middle of the street.

Thank you all for reading! If you liked it, leave a kudos or comment, those always make me slam my face into my palms and squeal with absolute delight. Also, if you'd like to talk to me on tumblr: Main Content While we've done our best to make the core functionality of this site accessible without javascript, it will work better with it enabled.

Remember Me Forgot password? Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: Overwatch Video Game Relationships: Good Fences Make Good Neighbors vandoodle. Country music, lots of arguing, country music, some gays, and country music. But this morning, he had slept longer than he had meant too.

Brunch with Richard and Harper, come join the party when you wake up! In the past week, D. Va had somehow been saddled with every child in the neighborhood. But that was not its only benefit. Va silences him with a lemonade flyer to the face. Nodding, the archer makes to leave. Standing in the middle of the floor, wiping tears from his eyes, is McCree.

McCree vaguely gestures to himself. I suggest you all give your best to find the hub before then. When she finally resurfaces, face red, D. There is a tug on his sleeve; it is not a part of their signal. They both know the answer to that question. After a moment of wrangling his temper, he finally speaks. When McCree catches back up again, they fall back into their slow pace. A week and a half after first contact and they had constructed a ritual.

And yes, he is. He straightens, blinking wearily at the door. The gunslinger only smiles wider. Are you trying to get us fined? The mailbox is a fish. He takes Hanzo by the hand, no taps, and leads him outside. Clasping onto the neon orange extension cord, McCree reappears at his side. Stopped counting around 1, They light not only their house, but engulf the whole block with its luminescence.

Hanzo lets out a laugh that is more heavy breathing than anything. All fields are required. Your email address will not be published. McCree in this story! Originally posted by mr8bitmonster. Late nights with some of the boys of overwatch! Maybe it was paperwork, maybe it was restlessness after a particularly tough mission; whatever the case, he never seemed to fall asleep until the early hours of the morning.

He looked more tired than usual today, and you felt your heart ache at the bags that had grown underneath his eyes. He was always too hard on himself. His brows furrowed as he took you in; the blanket wrapped around your form, the fatigue that you wiped from your eyes.

You nodded tiredly, before clambering into his welcoming arms and settling your face into the crook of his neck. His heart swelled and tightened simultaneously. You, too, suffered from your fair share of nightmares; he knew that he was one of the only people — if not the only person — who could tame them.

He looked down at you as you read through the page you held, and a small smile grew almost unconsciously on his face. Like a bullet, you fly from the couch and out to the hallway, where your man was tiredly dropping his bags to the floor. You throw your arms around him and pull him close, throat clogged with tears. Gabriel holds you tightly, his arms wound around your back and clutching you like he needed you to live.

He knew you well enough to know that you had most likely been waiting on the couch since he was expected to arrive — waiting for a phone call that would never come. Gabriel pulled back, placing a gentle hand on your cheek and the other down to the soft bump that grew within your stomach. Your hand ghosted over the bruises on his jaw and the scars along his cheek.

You stood outside the door to the nursery, leaning against the doorframe. A smile of tired amusement painted your face as you took in your husband, covered mostly in paint and masking tape, as he continued to paint the walls a light yellow. Jesse turned to you, his eyes widening. You pouted at him, nuzzling against the side of his neck.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. You really did sleep better when it was him you fell asleep with. You find him on the roof, gazing up at the sky. His bow sits beside him, and an arrow is perched in his hands. You had fallen asleep hours earlier, after the few rounds of love-making had tired you out, and only possessed a dressing gown with which to keep you warm.

For a while, he says nothing. He lets you sit down beside him and rest your head on his shoulder, but still he gazes out into nothingness. You see his fingers tighten around the arrow in his hand. I suppose I succeeded in doing so. In your own way. This was a reoccurring conversation that Hanzo never seemed to understand. He believed deep down that you deserved better than him; somebody less dangerous, more emotional.

Someone able to care for you both externally and internally. You took hold of the arrow gently, and set it down between you. You had learned to read him, and the tightening of his hand around yours and the narrowing of his eyes spoke volumes. Sometimes the whirring of his robotic parts drove him from dreamland or his mind refused to cooperate with his demand for sleep.

Sometimes, on more… sombre nights he would be plagued with bad memories and self-doubting thoughts. This was one of those nights. He had pulled himself from the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, head hung low. You wind your arms around his shoulder, kissing the nape of his neck. He gives a small, empty laugh, shaking his head. You should go back to sleep. Very few have truly cared for him like this.

Would it be alright to ask for headcannons of Headcannons of when they realize they're in love? He cranes his neck up to see you gently rising and falling with his breathing, and then rising with your own breathing. He smiles and leans back, an old man at peace. A rare smile appears on his face, rare as his vacations. Sunlight gives you a halo, and in that moment, he knows he loves you.

Why was he doing this still? What good was Talon? What good… he looks at you. His nonexistent heart breaks. You look exactly like a king, his king. You turn to him and smile, and hold out your arms. He sweeps you into his, mumbling his praises to you, his god, his salvation. His heart pounds in his chest, the buzzing of the bugs around his ears only amplifying his nerves.

It never shows though, definitely not behind his mask. He takes your hand, and when you turn in shock with a blush, his mask is up toward the sky. The dragons reflect his inner feelings- and he loves you as much as they do. Your sleeping face, whether serene or goofy, makes him smile.

So good, so pure. He presses his lips to your forehead and watches you yawn, chuckling softly under his breath. Sometimes you can do it. He laughs softly and you blush before collapsing into giggles. The attempt is enough for him. His heart flutters at the sound of your laughter. He takes it from you and scans over the lines. A smile slowly grows on his face.

He nods, normally at first, then vigorously as he launches a hug at you. You squeak in surprise and laugh as he peppers your face with kisses. Where would he be without his muse? He can tell by the grin on your face and the nods. And his latest project just blew up in his face, the tips of his hair charred. His grin matches yours as he yells: Thank you for trusting me.

Everything is delicate and pristine- glorious. He watches you carefully, something in his chest whirring as you gaze in awe through the glass windows at the sunset. He takes your hand, smoothing his thumb on the back of it as you watch the sun set together. She will be okay, but I need your help. She needs your help.

McCree - was that a bullet? Reaper - how stupid could you be? Hope you liked it! Thanks for your request! I love your work already btw!! Keep up the excellent work c: Thank you very much! Defeated, the both of you will drop onto the sofa but then they would slide down your head and land on your nose. He just sighed and stared at you. Neither of you said anything as you tried to decode the look he was giving you.

All it took was him to raise his eyebrows before you understood what he was on about. You grinned sheepishly and reached to grab them off your head. Ignore if requests are closed. Can i get a continuation of that w zenyatta, 76, hanzo, genji, and mccree?? First part is here , these are gonna be a little short cause theres so many - Mod Genji.

Could I get separate HC's for Yakuza! Its been a few weeks, so…. To him, both your mental and physical health are extremely important. A light sleeper, so more often than not he ends up being the one cooing the baby back to sleep on particularly restless nights. He tries to keep you off your feet as long as possible, keep you relaxed and rested.

Cradles them in his arms, rocks them back and forth, and lies next to you, kissing your forehead and saying look at what we made in awe. He lets the little infant sleep soundly on his chest, and feels much better knowing that his child and his wife are both safe beside him. He leads a life much too dangerous for any child, and he was still reluctant to let you get involved in any of his… after-hours activities.

He wants to be as close as he can be, and if that means losing a few hours of shut-eye to soothe the wailing baby back to sleep at 4AM, so be it. He had never given it thought, considering a large portion of himself was robotic. He gets much more hands-on; a constant hand on your hips, on your waist or shoulder. Also, he gets you an exercise ball that comes in handy during contractions, too.

Although he doubts that his child and future children would fall as much as Hanzo and he did, he still makes it a point to never shame his children for their emotions, to let them love and care freely. So something preferably with Pharah or mccree. But ya still gotta work on that aim. Are you offering lessons?

You decided to wait for him to make the move. You turned to see Commander Reyes, eyeing McCree down. You arrived to the hall and each grabbed a plate of dinner. You awoke the next morning, had some breakfast and made your way to the training grounds. You warmed up and went through your routine, waiting for McCree. You decided to make your way to his room and ask what the hell he was doing.

You stood outside his room and pounded on the door. Satisfied at the sound of movement on the other side of the door, a smirk spread on your face. Your smirk disappeared and you felt as though you had been punched in the stomach at the sight of a new agent, wrapped in a sheet, very clearly naked underneath.

Do you want me to wake him? You made your way back to your room, trying to hide the tears rolling down your face. You trained at a different time, you changed the times you ate your meals and you sat as far away from McCree as you could during briefings and leaving as soon as they were over. Your performance had dropped significantly, too.

Commander Reyes was concerned so he called you to his office. You sat in a chair across from his and settled your hands in your lap, not really knowing what to do. Your stomach dropped and you fought the urge to throw up or cry or whatever else your body wanted to do right then and there.

You exited his office with a huge sigh. At that addition your face heated and McCree stumbled over his words, a babble of incoherent words. Gabriel put his hand on your back and escorted you to the mess hall, walking you past a red-faced and clearly embarrassed McCree.

Though, I understand if you would rather not. JavaScript is required to view this site. Log in Sign up. Most recent Most popular Most recent. Filter by post type All posts. Grid View List View. The Hunter Becomes The Hunted: Jesse McCree x Reader. A dragon, a dragon was burning down the land. Dread sat deep and heavy in your stomach as if it were a cold lead ball.

Overwatch overwatch imagines jesse mccree mccree mccree x reader werewolf! Babydoll, Darlin', Sweetpea Junkrat: Darl', Hotness, Precious Soldier Princess, Babe, Wonderful Roadhog: My love, Prince ss , Diamond Tracer:

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There was something predatory in his eyes, something that put butterflies in your stomach. There was literally nothing Angela couldn't do. The connection sparks; the cowboy drops it to the ground, startled. Twins can be complicated, you know. His father changes tactics. He flinched back, putting as much distance between the two of you before his back hit the wall.

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It would help her out a lot…. At least the floor seems relatively clean. Reborn by aspiringactor reviews An alternate take on the Marvel Universe, centering around the Avengers as they attempt to navigate a very charged climate to prove themselves as Earth's Mightiest Heroes. He had heard the sound of fist meeting flesh and the thump as Genji, then sixteen, had hit the ground. PAW Patrol:


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