Tag: angst

Hi, still remember me? Still want some angst? Oni!Genji x Reader, Genji was kicked out from the kingdom by Hanzo and so he wandered on earth where he met his s/o and fell in love to each other. Hanzo didnt like seeing his brother being happy and so he curse Genji’s s/o to die at certain age. They will reborned again but have no memories of Genji and Genji wont be able to met his s/o before they hit certain age too Like they have limited time to spend on each other (1/2)

imagine-this-overwatch:

“I’ve lost count on how many times I met and lost you, but even if it’s painful, I’d choose to fell to you over and over again” It’s kinda like..Genji will be in endless loop of love and hurt with his s/o Do you like it? And do you think Genji will come back to beat Hanzo for cursing his s/o? 😡 Thank you anyway~ Have a nice day!!

HNNNNG OH MY GOD

It doesn’t even matter what you are reincarnated as. Gender, sex, not even species deters him. You could reincarnate as a dog and he’d still love you. (Granted, he won’t fuck you or do romantic things while you’re a dog but he’d keep you as a companion until you pass again.)

Once, he even convinces you to be immortal with him, but Hanzo’s magic is too strong. He has to keep watching you die until he comes up with a solution. And yes, he does go back home to fight for you, but that doesn’t go too well either. Genji gets absolutely fucked up and is now afraid to show you the face behind the mask because he is so scarred and not as handsome as he once was. 

He always knows it’s you instantly. He travels the world and suddenly he feels a tug on his heart, like a magnet pulling him to you. And when he does find you, everything just feels right. His chest no longer aches, the world looks brighter, and he can finally feel at peace if even for just a short while. 

Every time you die, Genji is filled with complete and utter heartbreak and every time he vows to find you again and find a way to end this torturous cycle, no matter how long it may take. 

This girl loves to torture herself with Genji angst, I swear. And also, are you into fairy tales? This some grade A angst! I like it.

Gentle Giant Ch 2

Someone suggested that the off-mission agents put together a birthday party for Efi for her twelfth birthday. The general consensus that she should enjoy her childhood as much as possible before becoming any of the scarred and hardened pre-fall Overwatch agents.

The party went off without a hitch until Orisa insisted, for safety reasons, that she cut the cake. The door slammed shut, and everyone turned around to find Reinhardt was missing.

She froze, holding the long, sharp kitchen knife above the cake. “Is he alright? Is he sick?”

You were loathed to leave an opportunity for cake behind, but you excused yourself to go check on him. You checked his quarters, but Reinhardt wasn’t there. You went to your room, doubting he was there. But he was.

You found Reinhardt sitting on your bed, facing away from the door. His back a hunched over, ball of muscle. He trembled silently, hot tears crawling down his cheek out of his good eye.

“Reinhardt? Do you want to talk?”

“No,” He sniffed. “But I should explain.” He turned around to look at you and patted the space on the bed next to him.

You sat on the bed and leaned into the large man, instantly feeling safer. Reinhardt left the tears on his cheek and went on to tell you about how Orisa holding the knife brought up old feelings. He recognized them from when his mentor, Balderich, died when Reinhardt was young.

“Seeing her, standing there with a weapon…the knife, I mean. I started to feel…”

Reinhardt shook his head, and you waited for him to continue.

“I don’t even know why. I thought I was going to lose you. Like I lost my old friend.”

“It’s okay, Reinhardt.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly. He took a breath and looked down at you. “You are not going to lose me,” he said earnestly.

You pet his white hair, brushing it back from his face.

“I know. Do you think I’m worried about that?” you asked, squinting at him.

“Of course! I could die on any mission. Every time I go.”

“I know this,” you said. “Sometimes I think about it. But I can’t do anything about it.”

You took your hand from hair and pushed gently into his lap. He let you on and wrapped his arms around you. His warm, soft pectoral muscled pressed into your back. He laid his cheek against your hair. You were secure surrounded by the strong, caring man, but that wasn’t why you were here.

“I’m sorry,” he said, uncharacteristically quiet.

His warm breath blew gently into your hair. He seemed to be apologizing for who he was, and you wouldn’t stand for it.

“No, no, no,” you protested, turning to look up at Reinhardt, and he loosened his hold. “I know what you do. I knew that from the start. It’s obvious what kind of man you are.” You placed your hand on his shoulder. “And I love that about you. I feel like I always know what’s in your heart.”

“You are in my heart,” he said, poking his chest with his pointer finger. “I worry. Always.”

You smirked. “That’s not what Brigitte tells me. She said you have no worries about charging into a pile of enemies. I had to ask her to stop telling me about the reckless stuff you do!”

“Well…” Reinhardt’s cheeks darkened, and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s not perfect, but that’s okay. We deal with it.”

“You are right,” he said. Reinhardt was closer to the smile you normally saw when he looked at you. He hugged you tighter and tighter until you squeaked, and he laughed.

Hanahaki 1/2

watch-your-grammer:

I am a huge sucker for this trope, 10/10 will write more. This is a Hanzo x reader request btw!!

It was a dry cough, the kind you get when you yell too loud or don’t drink water for a long time, and it sounded like the beginnings of a cold so you thought nothing of it until your teammates noticed it too. “Oi, Y/N, that’s a nasty cough ya got there, luv. Have ya seen Angela about it?”

“Not yet, I’m sure it’s just a cold, it’ll go away in a few days.” Lena nods, unconvinced, as she looks at the other members of the table. A few Overwatch agents with silverware poised over their dishes, watching you intently. “I’m fine, I promise.”

And dinner resumes, no one calling attention to your frequent coughing fits, your throat clearing, or you need to excuse yourself before you’re even half finished with your meal. You remember Captain Amari mentioning something about gargling warm salt water but you can’t remember the context it helps in, no matter, you’re already dumping a tablespoon into a full glass and stirring it in tight circles. It’s a little too hot but you suck it up, feeling it sting against your raw throat as you tilt your head back and open your mouth. You feel silly at first but when you’ve released all your air and spit into the sink you feel nothing, you understand nothing except for the wilted petal in the sink and the pinkish water swirling down the drain. The glass clatters into the steel basin and you jerk violently away from the counter, hitting your hip on the island and collapsing on the ground, hands curled tight in your hair. You’d tried so hard to hate him, to at least not be obsessed with the way his fingers curl around his bowstring, the way his jaw clenches in concentration, how his face moves when he speaks.

The coughing gets so intense that you can’t see for a moment, your stomach muscles clenching as your body doubles over, hands covering your mouth as saliva drips from your palms. Pulling away, you see blood splattered on your skin too, smearing in the web between your fingers. Fuck. This is bullshit, you won’t let him see you like this, you won’t let anyone see you like this. But your chest feels heavy as you attempt to think logically for a moment, weigh your options and ponder the consequences. Death or lose the ability to love? Existence or living? Fuck!

And this isn’t something people simply bring up in conversation, “hey, I love you so much I’m dying.” Nope, not going to happen. The pressure and expectation that gets put onto the object of interest is completely unfair, absolutely and completely absurd. No one ends up happy when the situation boils down the that, more often than not people end up dead. It wasn’t fair. You won’t do that to him. You cough again, your cheeks puffing out from the escaping air your lungs as you drag your knees to your straining chest. You spit on the concrete floor and wince as you feel something slide against your cheek, using your tongue to slide the object out of your mouth you spit it out too. Another petal.

Part of you wants to go see Angela and figure out just how far gone you are, just how bad it is. But no one is going to know, you’ve decided that already, there’s no changing that. You’ll shred every petal, scrub every drop of blood, avoid everything that reminds you of him and you’ll live. For how long, you obviously can’t tell. But you won’t hurt anyone else, you can handle this on your own, no matter how long it takes or what the end result is.

Fuck.

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overwatch-reader-imagines:

This is a rewrite of something on here that was bad, I deleted but please enjoy this one. Read-more for length.

You gave a slight hum as you walked through the kitchen, your Overwatch comm stuffed into the garbage bin finally after so many years. It felt relaxing almost as if you threw out cuffs you didn’t know were tightly latched onto your wrists.

You knew he was going to come, there was no way that cyborg would let you accept such a fate with a small button press. You didn’t expect him to be so damn quick thought, maybe they were so certain that you would say yes that they sent someone to get you.

“Why did you decline the recall?” Genji demanded behind you, you felt a cold anger radiate from him.

“Why would I accept?” you calmly said, looking at the dough in the oven to watch it rise in the heat.

“Because it’s the right thing?”

“What does the right thing matter anymore?” you couldn’t help the anger that filled you, making you snap at him, “I don’t want to be lectured by a man who ran the first chance he got.”

“I am different now.”

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zarcake-writes:

watch-your-grammer:

Preview of my Hanahaki request

And dinner resumes, no one calling attention to your frequent coughing fits, your throat clearing, or your need to excuse yourself before you’re even half finished with your meal. You remember Captain Amari mentioning something about gargling warm salt water but you can’t remember the context it helps in, no matter, you’re already dumping a table spoon into a full glass and stirring it in tight circles. It’s a little too hot but you suck it up, feeling it sting against your raw throat as you tilt your head back and open your mouth. You feel silly at first but when you’ve released all your air and spit into the sink you feel nothing, you understand nothing except for the wilted petal in the sink and the pinkish water swirling down the drain. The glass clatters into the steel basin and you jerk violently away from the counter, hitting your hip on the island and collapsing on the ground, hands curled tight in your hair. You’d tried so hard to hate him, to at least not be obsessed with the way his fingers curl around his bow string, the way his jaw clenches in concentration, how his face moves when he speaks.

The coughing gets so intense that you can’t see for a moment, your stomach muscles clenching as your body doubles over, hands covering your mouth as saliva drips from your palms. Pulling away, you see blood splattered on your skin too, smearing in the web between your fingers. Fuck. This is bullshit, you won’t let him see you like this, you won’t let anyone see you like this. But your chest feels heavy as you attempt to think logically for a moment, weigh your options and ponder the consequences. Death or lose the ability to love? Existence or living? Fuck!

Listen, are you gonna make me cry? Am I gonna cry from this? I bet i will. And I cannot wait.

No Sushi for Me :[

overwatch-reader-imagines:

Read-more for length.

Zenyatta looked at Genji, who mostly refused to look at his master. His robot thumb twiddled around, a faint metallic ping came from the two of them hitting each other. He knew his pupil would break, whatever was eating him up would eventually come free.

“You know that I would not judge,” Zenyatta said, “you’ve told me so many other things, why is this the line?”

“This is different,” Genji responded, “I am ashamed.”

Zenyatta hummed, just waiting before Genji sighed, his hands tightening their grip on his knees. He lifted his face and Zenyatta saw the embarrassment flash across it before the cyborg’s chest heaved with breath.

“I love them,” he whispered, Zenyatta tilting his head in confusion.

“Who?”

“I’m sorry Master,” he said, his hands clenching with shame on the ground.

“Ah,” Zenyatta realised, his mind travelling to you and why he would feel ashamed of his feelings, “I suppose they are irresistible to Shimadas.”

“I would never act on it!”

I know,” Zenyatta said simply, ”I trust both of you.”

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Why So Many Pretzels

overwatch-reader-imagines:

Read-more for length.

Zenyatta willed the energy around him, energy thrumming through his orbs at his thoughts. He waved a hand to trail healing from his pupil before turning back to the Talon agents terrorizing the small community he and Genji stumbled upon. He took a breath, his orbs growing cold with his determination as he looked at their leader.

Genji blanched at sight of Doomfist, fear began to tumble inside the cyborg next to Zenyatta. From what he had been told of their last encounter, it wasn’t without reason.

“I am here to help,” Zenyatta said and Genji relaxed, trusting his master.

Genji arranged his shurikens with the whirl of his cybernetics, his face hardening under his mask. He didn’t know how long the two of them would last, neither of them meant for such on the field combat. If they could just hold the line to let everyone evacuate.

Well, it would be a good death.

He drew that familiar sense of discord from inside of him, putting it into one of his orbs. It trailed from Akande and Genji couldn’t help but wonder what Doomfists doubts were, seeing the man flinch a little.

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Okay, but where’s the next chapter?

Do you know how much I love horror and angst prompts it was so difficult picking. Grief for Genji. Or… Invocation for 10069.

romancedeldiablo:

hello here’s a v minimalist serving of grief for the green child

Nights are rough for
Genji, rougher than his days which is already saying a lot; but at least during
the day he has things to distract him. During the day he can second guess any
and all social interactions, he can try and make these new limbs his, he can
try and avoid catching his reflection on random surfaces. He keeps busy.

At night he has the
privacy of this bunk and a bed too soft for his liking, every edge and every
blanket rubbing at his too sensitive skin, what’s left of his skin; he’d rather
have the floor, but he can’t cope with the cold.

If he lays on the
floor –and he’s tried– all he can see when he closes his eyes is Hanzo and his
long, purposeful steps away from him, leaving
him; his older brother finally sick of him and doing something about it. Genji
doesn’t quite remember if that night in Hanamura had been particularly cold or
if it was just the blood loss but he remembers feeling half frozen where he lay
crumpled on the tatami.

It feels like the only
time he’s ever been truly cold in his life, curled on his side, shaking and too
weak to even call out for his brother even if he’s screaming Hanzo’s name in
his mind until his throat is ripped to shreds.

It feels like he’s
never left that place.

A part of him is still
there, a part of him still tries to call out for Hanzo because said foolish,
miserable part of him registers his brother as the only thing between himself
and the elders. For a half dead, comatose fraction of him, Hanzo’s still his shield,
Hanzo will make everything alright and hold his hand is he’s too afraid to be
on his own in the dark.

Genji turns over in
this unfamiliar room, his scars itch like his entire body’s one big bug bite
and he wants to scratch until he draws blood. He tucks his hands under a pillow
to avoid it, tangles them in sheets since he’s not really sure what he can
touch of himself without dislodging metal, he’s not even clear on how much of
himself he keeps.

He makes another
attempt at sleep, facing the neon spill of emergency lights over the compound
on the other side of the glass, so much different from Hanamura’s always bright
signs. He lets the hum of his brand new cooling system lull him into a light
slumber, a barely there dream of Shimada castle; its hallways and gardens and
corridors empty. A dream where he’s a kid again, alone in what was supposed to
be his home; it remains peaceful there, if lonely, to pad across bare rooms.

He can hear Hanzo’s
voice there and he follows; he climbs over railings and looks under stairs, he searches
every building time and again, because his brother is looking for him too. But
he never does find Hanzo and he’s never found himself no matter how he begs to
be.

At dawn he unties the
sheets from his hands, shocked awake by the sudden light behind his eyelids and
he fills his time with easier things. He trains, he fights, he sits at the
doctor’s office.

He keeps busy until
the next night and he starts again.

if you send me a character(s) i’ll break them slowly for our amusement

S/O being cheated on by McCree, Hanzo and Genji. The boys would ignore them for a few days only to realise they loved reader. Reader is really sad and can’t even look them in the eyes but they take them back because they still love them. Please?

overmans-drabbles:

Thank you for your patience, I know your ask came in a couple of days ago. First thing, I apologize for the length. I realize some people enjoy reading straight to the point stories but I’ve realized I like to develop my stories a tad bit. I also changed a bit of the circumstances so the stories could be told more effectively, but they generally all share the same concept. Please enjoy.

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