To your last Mchanzo-Oneshot: OMG that was so perfect an cute and everything I could ever wish for! What about a Reverse ? With pinning Mccree? I really Love to know how heute would imagine their home :3
Omg you are so sweet THANK YOU! I might have been low-key hoping someone would ask and already writing it right after Hanzo’s but
just couldn’t get it to feel “right” and it took me darn near forever to finish. Anyway: HAPPY VALENTINES DAY MCMUFFINS!
McCree felt Hanzo’s gaze on him -heavy and charged, like a buzzard on a carcass. That sonofabitch better be lookin’. He’d gotten all fancied up for him after all. Well, if fancied up meant he’d spent an extra ten minutes in the shower, trimmed his beard a little neater and made sure his hair wasn’t sticking up too wild. Subtleties, ya know. He couldn’t make it too obvious. It’s not like tonight was anything particularly worth fussin’ over so much, just a casual little after mission get together. His nerves hadn’t gotten that memo, and he’d also spent a great deal more time making the decision between the blue plaid and the brown shirt than he’d care to admit, before pulling the latter over his head at the last minute. He’d caught Hanzo staring at him in both, so he figured he couldn’t lose. The other man had showed up to the rec room surprisingly casual. Jeans that fit too well not to have been tailored (could you even get jeans tailored? Hanzo Shimada probably could.) a soft grey v-neck t-shirt which conformed to muscle like a second skin and dipped just low enough to show off that down-right tantalizing collar bone. His hair swept up in a top knot with sides freshly shaven. Damn. If haircuts could kill a man… Hanzo’s undercut could be the death of Jesse McCree.
Reinhardt’s roaring laugh distracted his thoughts for a moment. He’d only been paying about half attention to the conversation he’d been stuck in the middle of, some old rehashing of the ‘glory days’. After tossing back a convincing enough chuckle, his focus returned to the elder Shimada brother. Who looked so damn good standing there, even from the corner of his eye. leaning on the counter at the other side of the room, quiet but comfortable. A sight that was slowly becoming more frequent these days. Jesse knew Hanzo would never really settle in, he was too good at what he did –had too many ghosts that haunted him. Still, it was a pretty picture. Settled. He hummed against his glass as the word lingered warmly in his mind like the whiskey on his tongue.
The Great Hanzo Shimada settled down. Where would he go? Jesse wondered. As often as the archer spoke fondly of cherry blossoms he doubted he’d live anywhere other than Japan. But would he go back to his family home, or hang his hat up somewhere new? Hanzo seemed like a ‘in the mountains’ kind of guy, with the peace and solace they bring. He could picture the man sitting cross-legged on a great balcony overlooking a snow-capped mountain range, a crisp breeze blowing wisps of graying hair from his face. The scent of jasmine tea and incense mingling with pine. Then again, he’d spent so long in seclusion maybe a little night life would be just what the doctor ordered? A quite village maybe, that held yearly festivals with fireworks and taiyaki -all those simple things he and Genji talked about from their childhoods. If nothing else, Hanzo would have a traditional house or he’d eat his boot. With shoji panel walls and all hardwood floors. A big library he’d have to keep adding shelves to, and a small garden with a koi pond and his own personal Sakura trees. He wondered if Hanzo would let him add a cactus or two? Or maybe they’d have a big garden with space to grow vegetables, herbs and what not. Since they’d found a mutual fondness for cooking disasters together (ever since Genji and Hana’s intervention cooking classes), they might as well do it with home grown ingredients. He supposed they’d need permanent guest rooms for those rascals. Jesse could almost hear Hana convincing Hanzo to set up a nursery for the dragons too. That is absurd! Hanzo would huff before caving in and doing it. Jesse knew he and Hanzo were about as different as you could get when it came to styles and habits but that hadn’t stopped them so far from finding common ground. Like the movie nights they’d recently started! That brought a vivid picture of curling up on a probably very white couch in front of a warm and well used but well kept fireplace, beside a snuggly Hanzo. the dragons curled up at their feet, with Mulan or The Good The Bad & The Ugly on for the umpteenththousandth time (the movie nights having long since become a tradition). Just cuddling and enjoying each other’s good company on a cozy quiet evening. Cuddles would turn into caresses, and caresses into kisses and the movie go on forgotten…
The trademark tap tap tap of Hanzo’s metal feet broke into this train of thought, robbing him of arriving at that nice little fantasy destination. Genji was talking animatedly as he followed his brother out of the rec-room. Jesse should have known he wouldn’t stay long, he never did. He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling a hot flush run over his body. Yer a damn fool, McCree. The odds for Jesse’s fantasies lining up with Hanzo’s future, were pretty damn close to none -he knew.
But maybe, just maybe, he’d be that lucky.
By Valentines Day i mean Singles Awareness Day. (☞ ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)☞ And now I have McSad headcanons about how Jesse day dreams about the future.
Summary: The final showdown with Benny’s old nest-mates… and between you and your vampire.
Pairing: Benny x Reader
Word Count: 2,900
Warnings: violence, blood, death, beheading, injuries, vampirism (is that a warning?), blood-drinking, mild smut
A/N: I cannot believe it took me this long, but the conclusion is finally here. Don’t worry, I’m not completely done with Benny… he’ll still be around in imagines and drabbles. Thanks for hanging in there, guys! And huge thank you to @deanssweetheart23 for helping me with the end.
if you’re still taking prompts I think melancholy!musician Lexa and looking-for-inspiration!artist Clarke could be a cool idea. melancholy was too hard. how about cocky?
The last hour of work was time’s cruel joke. That bothered Clarke, the ability time seemed to have to toy with the emotions and days of individuals, how absolutely astounding it was to not be a constant, steady thing she always believed it to be. Those were thoughts that kept her distracted for agonizing seconds at the end of the day, especially fridays, when she watched the clock refuse to tick. It wasn’t because she was especially busy and had outrageous plans, but it was more that action of clocking out and shedding the corporate feeling of what art could be, and renouncing her sell-out-ishness for a few hours, until the week started again, that kept her attention.
Clarke had exactly one thing on her mind for her time off, and it was standing in front of her canvas with her brush and being unable to start. It’d been a routine she’d perfected over the past few weeks of ridiculous drought of desire to do anything at all. The rush and high of her show last month dried her up, left her hollow and emptied. And now she suffered.
Y/N Dunbar was the oldest Dunbar, but sometimes it seemed like Liam was the oldest because of how overprotective he was and she hated it because when shed every started dating a boy Liam would f;sh his eyes and scare them off.
It was the end of the day when my phone vibrated in my pocket it was a text from Brett
Ill pick you up at 7 babe ¬ Brett
it wa sour one year anniversary i was so excited and of cause thne pack knew well except for Liam. I looked up from my phone to see Liam standing beside me. “Who ya texting” “Jesus Liam dont fucking do that and i’m texting Libbie”libbie was my code name for Brett) i lied. I’ve gotten good at lying considering Liam is a werewolf I could tell he was listing to my heart. i turned around to met Scott and his pack. “I guess you’ll be missing the pack met to go out with Libbie” said Scott, “ I know and I’m sorry Scott” i gave him an apologetic smile. We walked out of the school and Liam and i when to the car and we drove home. Mom and dad where still at work and they knew about brett, they’ve met him a thousands of times and thank god they like him. i texted mom and dad to say i was leaving at 7 with Brett.
If wind was a beast or a god as the ancients believed, there must’ve been several separate species of gales to harass different peoples because storms didn’t sound the same in the north as they had in the Caribbean. It rattled and roared, but there was no growling ocean, just the barren hiss of snow cutting the air.
Though it had been bitterly cold in the Valley Forge, the army had been blessed in that the geography of the land hadn’t brought the usual pockets of precipitation that valleys attracted. Cold and windy, the air had at least been dry- dry enough that the skin of Alexander’s hands grew cracked and bled at the knuckles. Dry until now.
It had started snowing that Sunday, thick and wet, more like sleet and rain than snow, but it continued to cover the cabins and tents, filled the brims of men’s hats, and smothered fire pits. As the temperature dropped, it turned to ice, and the wind turned what still fell from the sky from snowflakes to needles. It howled against the logs of their cabin, moaning like an injured beast or a thousand tortured spirits.
Fanfic commission from the lovely and creative @lawchan89. I heard there was some drama going down about g4g so maybe I should just keep this one off the radar until things calm down…
BUT THAT’S NOT HOW I ROLL!I will have my cake and eat it too!
Summary: In a heated argument with his brother, Stan is forced to reveal his most well-kept secret to the rest of the family, leading to many unexpected consequences, including a very hurt Soos. Grunkle4Grandpa centric. If you don’t like it, move along and find another fic to read.
Stan was used to bad starts. He could make the argument that his entire life was one continuous string of bad starts from his birth of fifteen minutes behind his twin to the long string of crimes that followed him from New Jersey to Oregon.
But of all his bad starts, getting hit in the arm by an arrow from Mabel’s crossbow before he even had his first cup of coffee definitely took the cake.
Hailstorms forever fell; showering a landscape of ancient grey. The temples had a constant melody in these months, sacred silence interrupted by the declaration of heavy skies above. She found the roaring winds to distract against the mundanity of her spiritual existence, there was comfort in the familiar drum.