“You…” the figure says, his voice rounding into a snarl. “Why did it have to be you?”
I’m no one, you want to say but don’t.
You understand it may be a stupid thing to do, like challenging a wild animal, but you stare back at him. Defiance, contempt, something obvious and raw in your refusal to indulge just how terrified you really are. There’s something in the way he returns the look that, even filtered through the mask, makes you feel as if you’re descending a staircase choked by total, overwhelming darkness.
“No answer?” Reaper’s voice changes as he speaks, becoming pointlessly calm and even more dangerous because of it. Mellow, contained. “You think I’m going to hurt you?”
You’re allowed time to consider this before he impossibly sinks into the floor—a demonstration, perhaps—solidifying behind you, returning from formless smoke. You sense his head tilt forward with fascination as a shiver rips through your tense body. He breathes in. Or, it sounds like he does. A long drawn-out, ragged inhale, filling his senses with your scent.
“I won’t. I’m just,” small pause, voice darkening, “curious…”
Emptied of air, you hold still as if any sudden movements would make him spring; wind his talons around you, prove he was lying. You whisper: “How can I trust you?”
Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Overwatch (Video Game) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Genji Shimada/Reader, Genji Shimada & Reader, Genji Shimada/You Characters: Genji Shimada, Angela “Mercy” Ziegler, Ana Amari, Lena “Tracer” Oxton, Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Hanzo Shimada, Sojiro Shimada, Moira O’Deorain Additional Tags: Female Reader, Alternate Universe – Historical, World War I, Slow Burn, Telegrams, Nurses, Nurse!Reader, Blood and Injury Summary:
1917. You are a young nurse that takes care of the soldiers from the Triple Entente that are stationed in safe areas during World War I. You see soldiers come and go by as they recover or die, but destiny as it is, ties you to a soldier from The Imperial Japanese Army after finding he snuck inside the hospital in the middle of the night. (There are some historical unconformities, but I’m trying my best)
He continued to hobble awkwardly past you and go about his business.
“Mistress?” Hanzo called. He was bent over, standing in the kitchen doorway. “How much sugar did you want in your coffee, again?”
“A lot,” you called back.
Hanzo turned around to go also hobble into the kitchen. The large bell attached to his thick, leather collar jingle as he shuffled his feet. It was comical, how he kept his chin high in pride, despite his curved back.
Both of your slaves were wearing their humblers. Both were butt-naked and wearing their favourite collars. Sometimes, these proud men got into a competition. They thought they were being subtle, pretending the extreme discomfort was nothing. They weren’t. It was delightfully amusing, so you lounged on the couch, watching them clean and make you food.
Reinhardt shuffled past again, sweeping the floor as he could with his massive ballsack stretched and tucked behind his upper thighs.
“You sure?” you asked again.
“Yes, Mistress.”
Before he got too far, you swung low, slapping his scrotum. He gave an “Oof,” but stubbornly kept sweeping.
Alright, then.
Hanzo hobbled over to bring you your coffee, his bell bouncing prettily. He placed on the mug on the side table.
“Hanzo. Stir my coffee some more, please,” you said, before he could turn around to leave.
Hanzo squared his shoulders. Then he stuck his pointer finger into the scalding-hot coffee. He stirs it around in a slow circle, and a bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
“Thank you, Babe,” you said, signalling him to stop.
The two silly men were still silently insisting that they were fine, even after many more drive-by slaps from you to make sure. They even endured several clothespins decorating their wrinkly skin. Come bedtime, you had them kneel next to the bed and took the humblers off them. One of them demurely suggested that he could sleep in one, and that started the other chiming in, claiming he could, too.
You weren’t having it. You said the next one to utter another word wouldn’t get to cum for a month.
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