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korpuskat · 10 months

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Spectrum

[Ao3 Mirror] Pairing: Ramattra/Reader Rating: Mature (sexual content referenced, but not explicit) WC: 2,918 Warnings: None Sequel to In A Different Light -----

The lackey behind the counter hardly looks up, barely says anything as they pass you the repair request forms. It's fine, you get it. Menial labor, repetitive office bullshit, dealing with the guys who walk their mechs into walls when training while trying to avoid the higher-ups gaze. Normal Talon stuff. This is perfectly true until he asks you what floor of the barracks you're on, what wing.

And suddenly the lady behind him perks up. She doesn't even try to hide how she looks you over, making some unspoken assessment, then grins and returns to her tablet.

The barely suppressed smile infects his voice with excitement. "Don't suppose you're in 1813, are you?"

Oh. Fuck. "Yeah, I am."

"Kinda wondering when you'd make it down here." He says, typing in your information. "If you would."

You shouldn't say anything. You really, really shouldn't.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Oh, you know." He grins at you, fucking winks like you're in on the joke. "There was a pool if you'd be here or the infirmary first."

The infirmary? Why would you- actually, he did break your bed and leave a hole in your wall and you have had this peculiar ache behind your belly button and you definitely have huge purple splotches over your hips where he'd grabbed you, so, okay, that's fair.

"I guess you won then." Is the light-lipped answer you come up with, unsure how to explain that you really don't want to be part of this conversation anymore. Please, just fix your bed and wall. Gossip when you're not around.

The guy opens his mouth- and you feel it before his expression changes. A cool wind brushes against the back of your neck, down your spine, over the backs of your arms. Sickly, somehow, like the air itself clings to you, crawls on you. Everyone behind the counter looks away. His joy is gone, but the fear is carefully masked. "Reason for repairs?"

Behind you, boots stomp by. He doesn't leave, from the sound, from the way nobody exhales. You don't look, keep your eyes trained on the counter, on a little fleck where the linoleum is peeling away. He's somewhere in a corner, waiting for something. "Accident."

The lackey visibly cringes. Suddenly he, too, doesn't want to be in this conversation. "Gotta be more specific."

Fucker. Your voice is barely restrained as you bite out, "Sparring accident."

Behind you, the Reaper snorts.

When Ramattra returns to your base, perhaps only two weeks later, you really expect him to just proceed as business as usual. Like nothing had happened; he'd sated his curiosity, you're off his radar. Figuratively. You do not, under any circumstances, expect to be pulled off regular duties to be part of his temporary squadron.

It's a formality. He doesn't need one. He's here to inspect an airship, to discuss modifications to be made before it goes into mass production.

With an irritated sigh and wave of his hand, he summarily dismisses the entire squadron as soon as he sees them waiting in the hangar. The rest leave. You should join them. It's so... presumptuous, to think he thinks about you, that he even remembers you. He's leading a revolution for his people and you're a grunt he fucked once. But your boots may as well have been glued to the floor, no matter how much you want to scream at yourself to move, to turn away, you can't.

And his gaze settles on you.

And he nods towards the airship's ramp.

You follow behind him.

It's the first time you watch him leave. Every time before- three, now, not that you're counting- he's quietly departed your quarters. After making sure you're well cared for. That part had always confused you- left your chest aching in a way completely different than your hips.

But this time, you're not left alone in your mattress working up the courage to go file a repair request again. No, as part of his squadron you get to see him off this time. It's all a show, Ramattra had complained about it before- serves nothing but to boost their little human egos. He wasn't wrong, there's no need for you to be here. In fact, you really don't want to be here.

You've never seen Doomfist in person, but he personally escorts Ramattra to his shuttle. He speaks confidently, but quietly enough you can't make out what he's saying, even as he gestures broadly with his cybernetic arm. Even seeing him content makes your stomach flip uneasily, not wanting to be around if something does go wrong.

Ramattra... looks different. It's hard to believe how quickly you've become used to seeing him relaxed. Not just when he's moving in you- no, even when he sits with you, walks about the base, he never looks like this anymore. All seriousness and focused, the weight of the world back on his shoulders.

They speak a moment more, then Ramattra bows his head and turns towards his ship. He stops-

and across the launch bay, Ramattra's faceplate turns towards you. He pauses. Says nothing, hardly moves- but you know. He's looking directly at you. You stare back, unsure why you have his attention now- and ever so slightly his head dips. A tiny nod goodbye, just for you.

Your chest aches.

You smile slightly and nod back- and he's gone, entering his ship and flying away.

You don’t know who finally made the call to assign Ramattra temporary quarters at your base, but you would love to have seen that conversation. Because Ramattra’s voice is perfectly neutral as he comments that his quarters had not only a heavy duty, solid steel bed frame to support his weight- nevermind that he doesn’t sleep- but also reinforced walls.

They knew, of course. But the fact that someone high up enough knew to make the recommendation is what really gets you. Because nobody has said anything to you. Maybe they’re smart enough to- you doubt Ramattra would be particularly pleased with you being public knowledge.

And, well, not saying anything has ended up being your approach with Ramattra so far, too. Despite the frequency that he’d return to your doorway (and now you to his), or the repeated repair requests and occasional trips to medical and skeptical looks in return, you’d never explicitly asked what was going on. What exactly you were to him.

And normally that would be fine! Soldier’s bond or whatever, some bullshit to say “logistically and emotionally easiest lay.” It’s common enough. But you’ve never laid in a squadmate’s bed hours after, never dozed lightly in someone else’s blankets as they work at the desk a foot away- and never felt that perhaps that was still too far from you.

It’s the latter right now that sits heavy on your chest.

You shift beneath his sheets- a silky, deep purple that ripples with every moment. You watch, silent, as he turns some kind of device in his hands, taps it occasionally with an electric soldering iron. You sit up slowly, lean into his pillows. Even the pillowcases match. Probably actual silk knowing Talon’s propensity to keep their board members happy. Fuckers. He doesn’t even meditate on the bed.

“Ramattra,” The question bubbles out of you before you can stop it. “Can I… kiss you?”

He stills. But here, you must acknowledge how close you’ve gotten- because you can tell. Where someone else may feel that pang of fear, that his quiet is a wind-up to rage or impatience or condescension, no, you can read his shoulders perfectly. He’s genuinely contemplating the request.

He looks to you, and he doesn’t need a face for you to feel the incredulity in his voice. “You do understand I do not possess a mouth, correct?”

“I know.” You stand and sweep one thin blanket with you as you move to him. And here- he turns away from his project, sets his iron down, opens his arms for you. When you settle into his lap, he supports you- and when you reach for his face, his jaw, he lowers his head into your touch. You sweep a thumb across the lowest part of the white composite, feel the little crease between it and the purple of his jaw plate. “But I could still kiss you..”

His whole face rumbles into your palm as he hums, considering this. “Alright, though I do not understand what you would gain from this.”

And that is a lie, though you’re not sure who it’s for. It’s fine though, you don’t call him on it. Instead, you guide his head down as you stretch up- until your breath ghosts against him, leaving little puffs of foggy condensation. And you kiss him. Right across the seam between his plates, your lips squishing into the gap, flattening against his metal.

And it would be like kissing a training bot, all cold, motionless metal against your lips- and that must be what he expects you to feel, his disbelief you’d get anything from this. It would be, except for everything else about him. His hands come up to the curve of your spine, to the back of your head, cradling you so gently- and even with such a small display, his fans kick up, a quiet hum purring a hair louder from his chest. Without a mouth, he’s hardly unaffected- and against his faceplate you smile and pull away. His optics cannot, by design, be half-lidded and glazed, but you think they would be if they could.

“Did that… satisfy you?” He rumbles lowly.

“For now.” You grin and tuck yourself deeper into his lap. When he realizes you have no intention of returning to his bed, he makes a show of sighing and adjusting the stolen blanket so you’re well-wrapped and all the ends are tucked safely away before he returns to his work.

"Can I ask you a question?" You murmur, eyes still closed. He's foregone the blanket this time, holding you right up against his chest; you had curled up with him so quickly he hasn't even had time to put his paneling back on. The spars of his ribs are a little uncomfortable, but he's still so warm that you can't complain.

"Of course." His systems have already refreshed, perfectly capable of going on with his day. Unlike you, you're still wavering and floaty and in need of a shower. He's used to it. Being able to hold you afterwards is... enjoyable. He allows himself to trace shapes over your skin. He had noticed, once, how you smile softly when he does it.

"It's personal."

Ramattra's head shifts, looks down at you slightly. He's told you about himself. About the times before he was himself, about the Shambali, about the slave shops he's destroyed, about London. About Lanet. What could you possibly ask that you felt the need to warn him about first? "Go on."

"Who did you make your dick for?" Oh. He shifts awkwardly, ceases the motions of his hands. When he doesn't answer you continue, "You told me you didn't make it for humans, so, I dunno. Was just curious."

It takes several moments before he can manage to put together a stilted "Does it matter?"

You hum softly and lean back against him. "No." You swap the places of your hand with his, sweeping your thumb across the purple plating. You really didn't want to upset him- the likelihood his previous relationships have ended particularly badly is ridiculously high. "It's okay, you don't have to tell me about your exes. Like I said, just curious."

Ramattra has never quite understood the desire to grimace until now. It's not important, and yet... that annoying little whisper has returned to his circuits, prodding at his runtimes until he's forcing the words through his synth. "I don't... have any... 'exes'."

This makes the gears turn in your head. There's no way. "Like... you just didn't stay with any of them?" Even as hectic as his life has been, you cannot reconcile how tenderly he's holding you with him previously being a smash and dasher. It would make sense logistically- no danger of loss or being tied down and losing focus on his work, but… there’s just no way.

"No." He all but squirms. "I never used it before you."

"What?"

"I designed it for..." His voice cuts out as his vocoder fights him again. "...a particular omnic. To their model's... specifications. But I never used it."

You twist around in his arms, as much as he'd prefer you didn't. It's uncomfortable enough without having to see your face, without his still-not-put-away dick pressed between your bodies. "But... you told me you'd fucked before."

Around you, Ramattra bristles, his fans ramping up, his hands firming where they touch you. Too far, you did upset him. "Omnics do not need things as crude as genitals to be intimate."

The pieces come together. Not an ex, they'd been intimate, enough that he'd designed a dick just to hope, but never used it. He wanted more. You slide a hand around Ramattra's neck, over the dark plating his cowl usually hides. Normally, when you slide your fingers around the chunky cables of his mane, he'll purr or at least relax- no such luck. "Sorry," You murmur, and trace a finger along the long line of his jaw piece. "Thank you for telling me."

It takes a few moments, but eventually a soft stream of hot air slips from Ramattra's vents and he sighs. You take the cue and curl up close to him, wrapping your arms around him as best you can with his wide chest. When you think he's calmed enough, you do tack on one last comment. "I am glad you made it, though."

Thankfully, Ramattra laughs softly at that.

Ramattra holds white papers in his hand, carefully held between the rubber pads there, delicate as to not crease them before you can read them. His other hand twitches as his side, then balls into a fist. He does not meet your gaze when he enters his room. He stands there, just past the doorway, clenching and unclenching his fist, his fans slowly amping up.

"Rama?" You prompt him when he still doesn’t say anything, already scooting to the edge of his bed.

"I have to attend to the construction of a titan in person." It's flat, a statement, no particular inflection in his voice where you're clearly expecting something else. "I won't be able to return here for several weeks. At minimum."

Now it's you who looks away. It's a disappointment. You knew it was coming, three days together was already an incredible luxury. "Ah, I see." He's busy, you know this. Lots of hard work running an entire revolution almost by yourself. And you can't fault him for it- can't ask him to postpone. It's important work. "When will you have to leave?"

"Five hours. I'm also chartering transport of supplies. My omnium is short on copper wire, of all things." He says- and his focus shifts from the floor to the paper in his hands. He rubs it, watches as the paper flexes and bends, then returns to normal. You, too, observe his fidgeting and wait for the shoe to drop. You've always kind of waited for it.

"Are you- " He starts- and his synth immediately fizzles. The hand at his side tightens in frustration as he reboots it. "Are you pleased with... this?" The paper flops in his hand as he gestures vaguely between you.

This.

Never did have that conversation.

You bite your tongue, chance looking at him. None of the strain in his vocoder has made it to his faceplate, forever stuck in that passive, almost angry expression. "Yeah." If he wants to kick you out, that's fine, but you aren't going to lie about it. His visits to your base have easily become the best part of your job, the occasional message of where he is, of when he can make it back to you- it's completely different than anything you've had before. "Yeah, actually."

Ramattra's shoulders drop. "You are sure? Genuinely?"

You nod. And he holds out the paper. You don't even unfold it before he's explaining. "It's a reassignment order. Production of Null Troopers is increasing geometrically; ideally I would oversee all production lines directly from here on. It would be... advantageous to have someone else coordinate with Talon on my behalf while I am engaged with this.

"I will be very occupied. This is a critical period of staging. And I would be relying on you." Ramattra says, and there's a sternness laid over top. He wants it to sound like a job offer, to sound serious. It is, to some degree. But more than that-

"You..." The top of the paper is printed with Talon's logo, a big block of text follows, beneath is a signature line. Your eyes skim the page again- and read the most important line. Relocate to meet the needs of Null Sector. "You want me to come with you?"

A breath of silence takes the room, until he steps closer and takes one of your hands in his. So gently, he drags the rubber pad of his thumb over your knuckles. His faceplate focuses there, on the delicate bones of your hand, your wrist. "It would... please me greatly to keep you near."

The ache in your chest blooms out, spills over your cheeks.

#overwatch #ramattra #ramattra x you #Ramattra x Reader #overwatch x you #overwatch x reader #reader insert

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husbandhoarder · 2 years

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The priest marrying me off: I now pronounce you man and (glances over at the ensemble of men standing in line to kiss me) … Overwatch

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claw404 · 1 year

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ramattra x reader [ headcanons ]

[ part 2 ]

something softer for a change

He loves to pet your head and stroke your hair if you're standing close enough, for him it's a grounding gesture, so calming.

Whenever you two have a time off, he likes to have you sitting in his lap facing him. You laying on his solid chest. You look into his pale faceplate as he stares into yours. You're both silent in these moments, only sounds being that of your soft breaths and the humming of the small mechanics in his body. He likes to examine your face, both visually and physically. He oh so gently caresses your cheeks, your chin, your lips. Ramattra is very curious about your 'fleshy' state of being though he wouldn't dare to admit it out loud, afraid he'd admit to himself that he has gone too 'soft', all because of you.

He offers on rubbing your back when you're tired or just having one of the worse days. You never want to be a bother but cant resist his propositions after you learned what his hands are capable of doing to you.

Multiple limbs do indeed come in handy, in more ways than one.

#thanks blizzard for bringing us another omnic dilf may there be more in the future🙏💦💖#shawty like a melody in my head #ramattra #x reader #overwatch #overwatch 2 #ovw2 #ow2 #ow #ovw #ramattra x reader #self insert #fanfic #headcanon

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grievous-writes · 1 year

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“His Human Pet” - Ramattra x Reader

WOW, it’s been years since I’ve done a Overwatch post! And so many new characters! But my fave, my newest boi, needs some serious love!

Pairing: Ramattra x reader

Genre: General Fluff

Word Count: 998

Summary: Some long headcanons about Ramattra and you <3

Theme Song: Josh Groban - All I Ask of You (Duet with Kelly Clarkson)

Never. Ever. Did Ramattra think he’d have a human who was as important as his mission; maybe even a bit more.

He’s not sure what to do with a human who wants to aid him, truely, and little alone a human who wants to be close. Closer then what is wise

You confessed your feelings to him in a heated passionate debate between the two of you, and he wasn’t sure where to go from there. In fact, he left that scene without a word.

He’s afraid of how it will affect you; if you’d want to take that chance with him after he wordlessly backed out.

But Ramattra can’t help the feelings that stir in his core, the flashes of emotions that spark his joy and taint his resolve.

He cares. He loves. And he’s terrified.

He’s very much “the pot calling the kettle black” when speaking to Zenyatta about you; given what he’s said about Genji.

“Human Pet”, that's what Ramattra called the cyborg ninja. And while the title was still accurate in Ramattra’s opinion, Zenyatta did make a point to have that phrase brought to light.

“To put those we care about in such positions and titles does little to settle the soul, my brother.” Said Zenyatta. “Genji is my student, my charge, my friend. He is like my child, as you are my brother. I care for him … as you do Y/N.”

“How … how do you do it?” Rammattra snarled. “How can you … accept these feelings, accept … them? I … I don’t know how.”

Zenyatta is the only being he’d ever share this with; these feelings.

The emotions make Ramattra feel weak, but in the best way possible.

There is the shame, the doubt, and anger - Anger at you for your kindness and true heart. Anger at himself for letting his mask fall away from leader to lover. And his most bitter anger was saved for the universe for making you and him two different peoples. If you were an Omnic, things would’ve been so much easier.

“Ah, but therein lies a Challenge and the truth.” Zenyatta perks up ever so, a smile in his voice. “You do so much enjoy a challenge. If Y/N were so easy to obtain, to love and cherish, do you think you’d care so much? Yes, you would still care, but to love someone so different than yourself? That, my brother, is the challenge. And the truth, well, love is worth fighting for. As you love your people … open your arms to them. Heh, you do have so many arms.”

Rammattra growls. “Don’t poke at my abilities. I-! …” He sighs. “What shall I do?”

“Go to them, speak to them, and see where this bond takes you both. In times like these, in such darkness and night, it is good to find the joy and light in our lives. There is balance, you just need to know where to look.”

Rammattra takes a few days to come back to you at your small workshop, where you spend your time repairing Omnics or making small gadgets. You sometimes even make small toys for the local impoverished children, and he finds you in the middle of making a small metal bird.

He watches from the shadow of your doorstep as you click the last metal plate into place and the small robotic thing comes to life. You giggle as it chirps out a gentle song, a melody, and he knows it. It’s from an old human musical, something about a masked man and a beautiful opera singer.

The bird takes flight and you stand up from your workbench, waking the small masterpiece flutter in freedom before landing onto his shoulder.

“Oh!” You gasp and your smile drops; with a single hand moving to cover over your heart - as if to stop the beating organ from escaping its ribbed cage.

“Y/N, I … I return.”

“I see that.” You frowned but not out of anger, concern, and you slowly approached. “Are you alright? Y-You didn’t answer my call.”

He sighs and takes a ginger step forward, looming over you, his small human, with his towering Omnic height. “Forgive me. I needed time to think. Time to think about … us.”

You raised your brows and waited.

He said us. No turning back now. Ramattra began to speak, but the bird’s melody picked up and you both looked to the singing metallic beauty. It sang and in those charming notes, Rammattra knew what to do.

He hummed as he closed the space between the two of you, taking your rough, worn hands into his own, and he began to lead a gentle dance.

You blushed, letting him lead, and your wonderful and warm smile spreads across your shapely lips.

And what made your heart sore is when he began to sing … “Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Say the word and I will follow you.”

You are so eager and giddy to join in, and your voices meld into perfect harmony; the light, the dark, the good, and bad of both. “Share each day with me. Each night, each morning.”

You take the soft solo - “Say you love me…”

Rammattra leans in gently, his voice almost broken as he whisper-sings his response “You know I do ..”

You both meet in the mighty crescendo; not caring if your voice also brakes in pitch as tears run down your beautiful facial features. Your passion makes his circuits heat and coils burn. “Anywhere you go, let me go too! Love me, that's all I ask of you …”

The bird stops its chimes, and you embrace one another in soft touches and delicate kisses; tenderly seeking one another in the afterglow of the song.

Hm, maybe bastion had it right keeping around a bird; at least in some regard.

And furthermore … maybe having a human pet wouldn’t be so bad afterall.

#overwatch #overwatch 2 #overwatch x reader #x reader #overwatch imagines #overwatch imagine #overwatch headcanons #ramattra #overwatch ramattra #ramattra x reader #ramattra x human reader #reader insert #overwatch reader #sfw

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ya-zz · 2 months

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McCassidy x reader who’s very serious around other people, but with him, reader is just putty in his hands? like super soft and submissive (that sounds weird 😭) once given an ounce of attention?

thank you so much! take your time + you don’t have to do this req if you don’t want to <3

Apologies this took some time getting to, had a lot going on but here we go! Hope it's okay! ♥

Cole Cassidy x Reader (gen)

Word count: 1578

The first time Cassidy had met you, you were quiet but had a serious looking face on you that even he questioned whether or not you were approachable. It took a bit of time before you eventually warmed up to him and when you did, the cowboy noticed a completely new person. You weren’t that serious person anymore, you were someone who was calm and had emotions.

Though, he did find it hilarious that when you were around other people, your mood changed completely. You went back to that serious demeanour; matter-of-factly, straight to the point, cold.

As the days and months went by and your relationship grew with him, he wondered if there was something behind you acting the way you did to the others and then to him. You softened up the moment you were around him, like he was some sort of charm.

—

The days were beginning to get longer, sun rising earlier each day and the night’s were shorter. Summer was fast approaching which meant Cassidy was going to be working his afternoons in the baking sun in the garden; while you would be out working, serving customers that came though the cafe each minute looking for hot and cold beverages alike.

It was a cosy relationship, each of you had your jobs and stuck to them without any complaint which meant the relationship worked. You had no complaints with Cassidy, bar his snoring waking you up on occasion, and Cassidy had nothing wrong to say about you… Except when you were mad, because hell, it startled him just as much as the person on the receiving end.

Just like any other day, Cassidy was out working until the warm hours of the early evening. A glass of whiskey was sat on the table he had placed on the patio, contents were warm to match the airy heat.

Everything was going as planned and in two hours, guests were to show up for a small gathering. Cassidy had just finished setting up the lights along the fence, switching them on and admiring the soft glow that came from them. They will look even better when the sun does eventually set.

All Cassidy could do now was wipe the sweat from his brow, head inside to shower and change into something more of a smart-casual to meet his friends.

You had just come home the moment he pulled his clothes out of the wardrobe and set them down onto the bed.

“Cass, my love?” You call out to him.

“In here, darlin’.” He calls back. When you enter the room, he notices the weary look on your face. “Is everythin’ okay?”

“Yeah, just work being work. Are we all set for tonight?” You brush it off but there was a sinking feeling developing in your chest. You knew something was going to happen, you were going to snap so you wanted to distance yourself for everyone else for awhile to calm down.

“Of course.” Cass knew. The same look you had after a hard day at work. Rude customers pushing you further into that mindspace, one after the other and the heat was no friend either. “Come shower with me.” He offers.

You nod sheepishly, despite having done it countless times, it still made your heart flutter. Cassidy knew that it would help relax you, so he pulls you along with him, setting the temperature of the water to your level. He didn’t mind it, so long as he got to be close with you.

His hands roamed your body, washing away the stress that had built up. He couldn’t resist planting small kisses over your shoulders and jawline as he washed the suds away and of course, when it came to getting out, he held you for a moment longer, pressing you into his body. Your hands come up and gently graze his back in tender motions and he hums in approval.

Just the two of you.

Eventually, after getting dried and dressed, your mood had lifted significantly and you were ready to take on the overwhelming loudness and guests in your garden party this evening.

You and the cowboy speak about his day, what he had gotten done regarding setting up the garden whilst he helps you prepare food in the kitchen. The topic of your work came up and you vented to him effortlessly, calling out the bullshit your coworkers pulled during your shift.

Cassidy always had something to say, whether it was rude comments about them or telling you to switch jobs, but no matter what happened, he would always have your back. He was always so calm about it all, having worked with organisations that tested his patience more time than not, he knew how it went.

After some time, guests start showing up at the house, you and Cassidy greeting them with smiles and a drink before he would would stand outside in the warm evening air with them, you still finalising the last of the food and bringing it out onto the table on the patio.

Everything was going perfectly, sun setting and music loud as everyone spoke about their days. You and Cassidy never left each others side unless going for a refill or to pick at some food.

“The garden looks amazing, Cass.” One guest says.

Cassidy chuckles in response. “Thank you. It has been a project for me since we moved into this place, ain’t that right, honey?” He pulls you to his side, metallic hand gripping your hip as his thumb ran soothing motions up and down.

“If he wasn’t working out here, something was wrong.” You simply say, a small smile on your lips. You knew Cassidy was trying to keep you calm. Having so many people around in such a tight space only made you feel anxious. A feeling that something could happen, something bad. Your eyes flitted to everyone else, watching them, making sure everything was going smoothly and that everyone was enjoying themselves.

You could overhear the muttering and the murmurs that escaped a few of the guests, their eyes looking at you briefly before they spoke, smirks passing between them. It took what strength you had to keep quiet, not wanting to ruin the night for anyone, especially Cassidy.

As time went by and the guests were leaving, Cassidy could feel the tension in your shoulders. He saw the tight jaw, the darker eyes and he knew you were ready to crash.

“You did well, darlin’.” He speaks softly, pulling you to his chest and holding you gently the moment the last guest had left. He could feel your body relax against his, the soft sigh that you let out as you unclenched your jaw eases his concern. The burning wood smell was stuck to him as the firepit was still burning bright in the centre of the garden. Cassidy didn’t hesitate in pulling you along, the music quieting down as he dances with you under the stars.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” He kisses your forehead. He, too, heard the comments, but he was proud of you for staying civil, though he would’ve cheered you on should you have spoken up about it.

“As are you, cowboy.” You smile, placing a tender kiss to his lips, his beard tickling your chin.

“Nuh uh.” He chuckles, shaking his head, hands firmly holding your sides as he sways with you. “I would’ve backed you up.”

“Thank you.” Resting your head against his chest, you feel the heat radiating from under his shirt, his heartbeat steady.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

------

BONUS

Just because I fucked up reading the prompt when I was sick, so take it anyway...

Things were going well for the cowboy and despite the trauma and life threatening events that happened in his life, Cassidy was enjoying what he had now, and that was a comfortable life with you. He had many run ins with the law back in his Deadlock days and that, of course, didn’t end when he was recruited for Overwatch and then Blackwatch during its days.

That life behind him now. There was nothing holding him back anymore; not Reyes, not Moira, not even Ashe. He was focussed on you and everything within it, no matter what hardships he faced, he was with you for the long term.

But… Not everything was all roses and daisies.

There were days that the cowboy’s nerves got pinched and pulled by those around him. His anger would gradually seep through his calm demeanour until he finally snapped and all hell would break loose.

Most of the time this happened, it was whilst you were not with him. You’ve never seen him physically hurt someone though you knew he could. Hell, he could kill someone. Cassidy could do whatever he puts his mind to but the one thing grounding him was you. He couldn’t just leave you. He didn’t want to be labelled a murderer just because he freaked out and accidentally killed someone amidst his anger.

Cassidy was thankful that he had you in his life, the one person who truly understood and cared for him. After a long day when he’d finally come home, your arms were open and he never once hesitated to fall into them. Your fingers would comb through his hair, teasing out some of the knots that formed during his day. Kissing would be planted along his temple and nose, cheeks and then lips.

He was practically putty in your hands and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#overwatch #cole cassidy #cole cassidy x reader #cassidy x reader #reader insert #cassidy overwatch #overwatch cassidy #overwatch 2 #overwatch2 #overwatch fanfiction #yazzfics

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useeer · 21 days

Text

Dance with me?

Venture, aka Sloan Cameron x reader

You're at your friends wedding, and somehow meet the cutest damn person in the world.

Tags: fluff, strong language, slight sexual innuendo

Enjoy!!

[Note: I haven't written a fic in 192739 yrs, and my ass hasn't been to a wedding since I was 10 so forgive my ignorance abt how they go!!]

You weren't exactly a party person.

Parties are loud, crowded and really socially taxing. While yes, you'd attend parties here and there; mostly birthdays or accomplishments for friends and family. It still wasn't your favorite thing to do. You are actually pretty upfront with others about how little social interaction you can handle. That being said... fear of disappointing your friends usually got the better of you. They were fine, partying was fun.

Honestly, you'd be lying to everyone if you said you weren't thinking about your soft, cozy bed. Or how you were daydreaming about cuddling up to your pets and watching silly videos. Not even this beautiful wedding could curb your introvert nature.

It's evening now, the golden rays barely peeking over the horizon as it descends. A sweet, cool autumn breeze blows, ruffling your clothes and hair. A welcome comfort on this warm night.

The setting is truly beautiful. Soft, golden glowing lanterns are strung along the edges of the venue. Lush green plants in decorative pots line the edges. The pillars, stone and brick, are painted in the gentle glow of the lamps and lanterns. The style...is Greek? At least you think it's Greek. If someone told you otherwise, though, you'd take their word for it. Especially since half the people here are from the Wayfinder Society, all attending as friends of the groom. The wayfinders are sprinkled around the venue, chatting about and having a grand old time.

You? No such luck, you're only attending for your friend, who happens to be the other groom. While you know a handful of people, and did polite chit chat with them, you mostly stuck to yourself. Actually, that's a lie, you mostly stuck to the snack table. You're leaning by the side of it, plate in hand, trying just about anything there. I mean, what else are you supposed to do?

While eating a particularly good cube of cheese, you let your eyes wander the room. You see a group of people laughing, another group chattering amongst themselves, one enthusiastically waving their hands in the air, seemingly very passionate about the subject. You snort, amused. Drifting eyes finally move over to the husbands, who were talking to an older couple, a quick hug is given here and there.

Man. You were bored.

You weren't trying to be disrespectful here, you just didn't know anyone. Subconsciously, your leg starts bouncing, your thoughts dance to your fluffy, comfy bed. Reaching down for another snack on your plate, you’re disappointed to see they're all gone. Frowning a bit, you look over the table to see if there's anything else you'd like to try.

And boy, was there. The chocolate hair, the hazel skin, your eyes instantly locked onto the person plating their own food. They're dressed in a white button down, and black slacks, the sleeves of their dress shirt hugging them favorably. They even had a cute little yellow bowtie on. You couldn't tell their pronouns, so you figure you'd ask if you ever spoke. Which you weren't, you didn't want to intrude. They looked to be the same person absolutely raving earlier, you'd hate to keep them from it.

If they wanna speak to me, they will. You thought distantly, watching their hands as they pluck up a cupcake.

Workers' hands. You mused, they seemed rough, and strong. They must be one of those Wayfinders. Your eyes trail their fingers, the back of their hand, man...they have really nice hands. Unbeknownst to you, your staring hasn't gone unnoticed. Their hands stills, just before the confectionery hits the plate.

"Uhm... did you want this one?" They ask someone, curious, you look up to see who they're talking to. You finally get to see their face properly, and man they're gorgeous. Too bad you didn't have time to appreciate that fact, as your eyes instantly locked with theirs. You realize a little too late that you're the one they're talking to.

"Huh." Is all you manage to get out, unsure what the fuck to say to this stranger.

"The...cupcake?" They say, motioning it towards you. "Did you want it? You're staring at it like you want it." They say, clearly confused by the way you ogled their food.

"No- no I don't want it. I'm so sorry, ignore me." You cover your face and wave a hand in their direction, this is the worst thing you've ever done. Your face and ears burn in red hot embarrassment, you're just lucky they thought all you wanted was the damn cupcake.

They seem to find it a little funny now, how you're running away from the cupcake you were practically stalking as it left the platter. "Okayyyy, well then this is mine!" They joke, putting it onto their plate before strutting away, seemingly unperturbed by your god awful screw up.

God, you needed to sit down.

You're practically on fire, feeling like you're gonna break into a sweat. Shakily, you find a chair in a less populated area and take a seat. You bend over, putting your face in your hands and elbows on your knees, as if trying to hide yourself. While you know, reasonably, that this isn't the end of the world, you can't help but feel like it is. You got caught! Red handed!

Yes, they thought it was the cupcake, so maybe you weren't totally fucked. But also, you're totally fucked who are you kidding?!

You didn't exactly think you'd interact with them before, but it's awful your only interaction was weird and unseemly on your end. Groaning quietly, you remove one hand from your face to fan yourself, damn you feel stupid.

You fan open part of your outfit, hoping in vain to let more air in to cool yourself down. Freaking out like this isn't a good look. After a couple minutes, you start to feel a little better. The flush of your cheeks is fading, and you miraculously avoided breaking into an anxious sweat.

Sighing, you puff out your lips, you just sent texts to your closest friend about how massively you fumbled the bag. They laughed at you, while you scream-spammed the chat in horror. They did end up reassuring you that you were overreacting, that it was not in fact the end of the world. You thanked them before turning off your phone. You get up, dust yourself off a little before wandering back to the food table; finding yourself in front of the disposable drink cups, grabbing one. Gazing to the left, you find the water. You watch the water slowly drizzle into your cup, before downing the glass in a couple large gulps. Still thirsty, you fill it up again before returning to your seat.

Man, what a day, go to a beautiful wedding, see your friend get married, then fumble the biggest bag ever. You mentally kick yourself, even though on the outside, you look completely normal, sipping on your cup naturally.

Bouncing your foot a bit, you lean forward to scroll on your phone, hoping to find something interesting to pass the time and distract you. You're scrolling for about 5 minutes before someone sits next to you. Out of politeness you don't look, thinking it's another guest needing a seat.

"Soo, about that cupcake. I ate it, definitely. But I felt a little bad. Here." The person next to you says, snapping you out of your doom scrolling.

Why. Why why why. Is all you can think. They're fucking with you, haunting you. All over a cupcake. You look over and see they've got a small plate with another damn cupcake on it.

"Oh im- I'm not hungry anymore, thanks though." You try to nicely deflect, hoping they'll catch the hint and let you die in shame, alone.

"Hmm, okay!" They say, they turn to face forward, unwrapping it for themself. They take a bite and bounce one of their legs, and you wonder why they're torturing you. They hum to themself as they continue to eat.

God. Please just go away...

They put their plate down and dust their hands, somehow already finishing the sickeningly sweet treat. "So." They state, placing both hands on either side of their seat, leaning forward, looking towards you. "Whatcha doing over here all by yourself?" They ask curiously.

"Well uh-" You clear your throat, "My friend’s the groom, it's his wedding. But I don't really know anyone else but him." You shrug, trying to relax and ease into conversation with them.

"Yeah, know how that feels." They say, sympathetically. "Wellll." They draw out the word, as if to emphasize it. "I was thinkin’ you could come to our table! I hate seeing anyone left out." Their smile is reassuring, until they start smirking. "Even. If. They stare at other people's food."

Ok, you can't help it. You groan at their jab, while dragging a hand down your face. "Man, you will not drop that, huh?" You say, only a little less embarrassed this time.

"Nope!" They tease, clearly getting a kick outta this.

"You know what, I barely know you and you're already the worst." You joke, and your brain nearly breaks in two when they giggle at it. Their shoulders shake and they grin, still looking at you. You can't help but smile, even while trying really hard not to. They were stunning, cute and worst of all, infuriating.

"Sorry for staring earlier...I was trying to see... your cufflinks." You say, clearly lying. As if desperately attempting to get out of the cupcake joke jail.

"Hmmm." They hum, unbelieving, eyebrows raised and nodding. "Well, too bad I don't have those." They smile, raising a hand up to show off their sleeve.

You instantly cringe, caught once again. "Oh right." You mumble out, pursing your lips. Damn, you're fighting for your fucking life over here.

Your reaction makes them laugh. An honest to god laugh, and it's loud. They're finding WAY too much amusement in proving you wrong and you don't know why. Despite the embarrassment, you were now enjoying yourself. Talking to them, joking around, even if it's at your expense. Their laugh is almost contagious, and they've got the prettiest smile you've ever seen.

"So.. what's your name?" You ask, your left hand fiddling anxiously at your side. Their laugh simmers down, and they sigh like they just heard the funniest joke in the world.

They hold their hand out towards you, "Sloane, yours?" You grab their hand and shake it, their grip firm. Your brain almost short circuits, realizing how much larger their hand is to yours. You say your name, and they repeat it.

"It's nice to meet you!" They say, shaking your hand once more before letting it go.

"Sloane is a really pretty name." You state, trying to make conversation. Totally, 100% not flirting with them, of course.

"Awe shucks, you think so? Well I like yours too." They shoot back, their cheerful glow never dropping. They look over, and you do the same. You see them eyeing the table they came from. It appears someone stole their seat.

"Oh, I'm sorry." You immediately apologize, feeling bad that their place was taken while talking to you. They shake their head and huff a little laugh, their curly hair bouncing.

"Why're you sorry? Don't be. Plus, it's no biggie." They say nonchalantly, genuinely unphased. They crack a smile and lean forward, as if they're sharing a secret. "Don't worry, I'll get back at them." They whisper, a mischievous gleam in their eyes.

You giggle, and pull back a little. "What're you gonna do huh?"

They pull an inquisitive face, staring up at the ceiling almost performatively. "I dunno! Maybe I'll put confetti in all of their tents!" They announce, toying with the idea. You couldn't tell if they're serious or not.

"You probably shouldn't do that." You jokingly warn, thinking abt how much of a pain confetti would be to get out of a tent. Much less the sleeping bags.

Sloane grins, shining that gorgeous smile again. They seem to be the happiest person in the world. "Well, that's what they get for kicking me out of my own seat!"

You shake your head and let out a small chuckle, "You really are something."

They push you by the shoulder a bit, "I'm a great something I'll have you know." They joke, before settling back in their seat.

Silence settles over the two of you for a bit, and it nearly becomes unbearable. That is until music begins to play. The lights towards the middle of the room light up, and the rest are dimmed to create a spotlight effect. The happy couple's chosen song is playing, and you watch as they approach the center of the room, beginning to dance. You smile, and awe at the sight. Seeing your friend so happy and glowing was truly a treat.

Sloane also watches, they love parties and weddings. Seeing two people so in love is one of life's many treasures. They look over towards you and see you recording your friends dance, they allow a small smile creep onto their face. They admire your side profile and the way your hair compliments you perfectly. You are eye-catching, and the way you practically folded over a cupcake earlier was hilarious. They love funny things, so they've GOT to get to know you. Exploring is one of their favorite things after all.

They settle back and turn their attention to the dance. Eventually the music begins to wind down, and one of the grooms leaves the dance floor. It's the parents' dance, they think. Now that it isn't your friend out there, you click off the record button and look over to Sloane.

"So, what brings you here?" You ask, making conversation with them. They turn their head to face you, their hands loosely clasped together on their lap.

"I'm from the wayfinders society! The other groom, Rey, is my good friend." They chirp, pointing at your friends now husband. "Y’know, me and him got lost once in a cave! Scary stuff, didn't know if we'd make it out." They said dramatically, waggling their fingers in your direction.

"You serious??" You furrow your brow, and lean forward incredulously. Their warm dark eyes look back to their friend, and they nod. "Yeah, it was a couple years ago. We lost sight of our team, and couldn't find our way out. I ended up drilling us a new exit. Real risky doing that but we didn't have a choice." Sloane recounts, "Could've been worse!" They add, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"That's crazy, I could never do anything like that." You tap your foot against the ground, even thinking about that type of stuff gets you wound up.

They turn back to you with a hum and smile, "Well, you never know until you try! Exploring is the best thing I've ever done for myself, I love it. Seeing what the world was like before us… finding the rocks and gems the earth has made. It's real worth it." Their passion is evident, every word they speak has them glowing. You admit it's rather charming, seeing them so in love with their work.

"Man, that's so cool." You state warmly. "You got a really cool job, Sloane. You got the job little kids dream of."

They smile genuinely, really happy with the thought. "Well my abuela always said to follow your dreams, so I did. What about you? What's your dream?" They gently nudge your shoe with theirs.

"Hmmm, well. I guess I'm still trying to figure that out." You hum, looking at the ground. Your interests aren't nearly as exciting as theirs. Working one dead end job to the next, just trying to make ends meet. "Thinking tattooing, honestly." You add, looking up at them.

Sloane gasps, eyes widening. "That's so awesome though! I love tattoos, I've got at least four or five." They pull down the collar of their button down to reveal more of the flames tattooed across their neck. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't already noticed it. Wanting to see how far down it goes.

Quickly, you bat those thoughts away. Sticking to complimenting the line work and blocking of their tattoo. You ask what others they've got, and they explain all the patchwork they've got done on their arms. Some historical, some cool, some just to have a piece of the places they've been. They even mention a larger one on their thigh, a dinosaur skull with flowers. You try not to sound too interested in seeing them while asking if they have pictures.

The conversation between you and Sloane runs smoothly, chattering about your lives and cracking jokes at one another's expense. The dancing at the party is now in full swing, guests of all types littering the dance floor. It's now completely dark outside, save for the lighting inside the venue. The lamps hanging from the ceiling are dimly glowing, the lanterns now back to their full glow. You even spot fireflies outside the venue, blinking on and off, flying into the wedding space and out. The place is truly beautiful.

The strumming of a bass fills the venue, an electronic guitar complimenting it perfectly. You recognize it instantly, as it's a song you've come to enjoy. Your new friend, Sloane, practically jumps out of their skin in excitement. They quickly whip their head to look at you while whisper shouting, "I love this song!!"

They bolt up, staring at the dance floor as both their feet hit the ground with a soft thud. They twirl their whole body around, looking at you with an outstretched hand, "Come dance with me??" They frantically blurt out.

You look dumbly at Sloane before slinking back into your chair a bit, cringing. "No no- I don't dance." While waving a hand in their direction dismissively. You're hesitant and it's obvious. The idea of getting in the middle of a bunch of people and dancing. God, not what you were made for.

You were telling the truth, you don't dance! Anyone seeing you attempt to dance may need an ambulance. Sloane slumps by your reaction, and pokes conversationally, "Aww c’monnn, pretty please? With cherries on top? One song?" They say, leaning backwards a bit on the heels of their feet while keeping their upper body forward. They begin pouting a lip out and sporting their best puppy dog eyes, hoping it'll help sway their case.

Nervously, you rub your pointer finger across your thumb. This is not what I signed up for, you think as your lips form a line, eyes locking with Sloanes, trying to will yourself into saying no.

Damn.

You can't. You can't say no! You know you'd kick yourself later if you left without dancing with them. They're everything you like in someone, striking, funny, passionate... You internally groan, searching their dark eyes for a way out. Sadly, there isn't one. Their eyes only plead and beg.

And well... who are you to deny them?

Breathing in a deep, deep sigh, you fold, "Okayy. Okay." You say, holding both hands up, signaling defeat.

Sloane is about to shout out a glorious, loud YES before you cut them off with a finger up. "But first, a shot of liquid courage." You say, pushing yourself up from your chair, walking towards the end of the food table. There lay countless plastic shot glasses full of vodka. You pluck one from the rim of the platter.

Sloane watches as you down the drink, admiring the way your throat moves to swallow. They snort when they see you pulling a face.

"C'mon- c'mon- the song is already going." They bounce, having to fight the urge to just drag you onto the dance floor themself. Shaking your head, you wipe away the grimace on your face and discard the tiny shot glass into the nearby garbage.

They grab your hand and pull you into the crowd, though they seem somewhat aware of your aversion to it. So they lead you towards a less populated end of the floor, despite this, nearly everyone at the wedding was dancing. So you were still around a decent amount of people. They smile wide, looking off into the gaggle of party goers. You find it ironic this is the song you're dancing to, the lyrics playing loudly.

We've got nowhere to go

We've got nothing to prove

Instead of dancing alone

I should be dancing with you

The lyrics are slightly erotic, even, but you don't have much time to ponder it when they turn back to face you. They release your hand, before snapping their fingers in tune with the beat and swaying their hips. You giggle, your cheeks and stomach buzzing from the alcohol. Unfortunately for Sloane, you do not know how to dance. Not well at least, they laugh, watching you sway awkwardly. "You don't dance do you?" They ask, almost having to shout to be heard over the clamor of people and music.

"No, not really!" You reply, before admitting, "I don't wanna look dumb!"

"Look dumb?! I'll show you dumb." They jest, backing up a bit to give themself some space. With their eyes locked onto yours, they bend their knees while bringing their right hand towards their head, palm open. They're walking towards you sideways, left hand swiping back and forth to their side and front. You about shit yourself, recoiling in shock and laughing. They continue though, bringing both hands up in fists towards their head, pumping them as they shake their hips, still approaching you.

"What are you doing!!" You shout, cracking up at their absurdity. They finally pivot fully towards you, bending forward and moving their hands in circles. They finish off their charade with a performative strut your way, palms open in a dramatic walk.

They laugh, grabbing one of your hands and pulling you further into the floor. "I'm dancing!! You should try it sometime!" They jive, sticking their tongue out. "I'm just saying, no one can look sillier than me!" You roll your eyes and shake your head. The smile never leaving your face.

They grab your other hand and start dancing for you, swaying you side to side. You can't help but giggle, letting them have their fun. You sway your hips and release their hands, moving yours back, snapping your fingers while doing circles and stepping side to side. Their grin widens and they yell, "Hell yeah! get it!!" Encouraging you.

Smiling big, you continue attempting to dance with them. Sloane closes their eyes and lets themself feel the music, they move their feet expertly, and their arm movements intentionally. Seeing this makes you realize they definitely know how to dance. Your eyes explore them, their body and the way they move. It feels dirty watching them like this…But they invited you to dance, you think maybe they want you to watch them. Enjoy them, drink them up.

It feels as though they've already wrapped you around their finger. You feel sadness bubble that the song is already ending. Luckily the next song that plays doesn't disappoint, more bass-y than the last. This one still just as popular as the day it released.

You let yourself loosen, swaying your full body in rhythm with the bass as the song goes on. Sloane is looking at you again, and you daringly strut around them, stepping in beat with the drums. Alcohol does wonders for self esteem. They wait for you to come back around before stepping close, pulling you in by the hand. You raise an eyebrow, checking them with a grin, before gleefully walking back, shuffling your feet in tune with the music then pulling them towards you. They follow excitedly, their foot work impressive as they step towards you. They raise your held hand up as they approach and you twirl around to face them once more. Confidence runs through you at this point, letting go of the hand above you. You bring your free hand up quickly, placing it on their chest before grabbing their opposite hand. They're grinning so hard, pulling back, until your arms are taunt. Then jerking you towards them, you turn so your back hits their chest. Sloane has one hand around your front, hugging you just beneath your chest. The other holding your hip, their head resting next to yours. You both just sway now, enjoying each other's company and the music. "This okay?" They ask in your ear, the tone in their voice dropping low.

"Huh?" You say loudly, turning to face them.

"I asked if this is okay!" They announced a little louder, and closer to your ear.

"Yeah!" You affirm happily, like this is the best day of your life.

Do I wanna know?

If these feelings flow both ways.

Sad to see you go.

Sorta hoping that you'd stay.

Baby we both know.

That the nights were mainly made for sayin' things.

That you can't say tomorrow day.

Dancing with them like this, swaying side to side feels almost romantic. And you're having a really hard time ignoring that fact. That coupled with your already burning attraction has you dizzy. You could stay here forever. Another song passes by, and you both continue dancing with one another. At one point, you fumble through a waltz before they twirl and dip you. Despite having the time of your life, exhaustion was quickly catching up. Feeling a bit hot, and tired, holding both their hands, you turn around.

Looking up at Sloane, you truly get to admire their beauty. They've got beautiful curls, swooping and gentle. Their hair is natural, soft looking, and when you danced you could even smell their shampoo. Their eyes are a deep brown, rich like the dirt they so love digging through. You finally notice their eyebrow piercing as well, and you bite your lip. It suits them. You think.

The longer you analyze their features, you wonder how the hell they're even real. How someone could look as perfect as them, be as charming as them. It nearly drives you mad. They smile a little, their eyes darting away. Their flushed cheeks grow a little redder at your prolonged staring. You smile a little, this is the first time you've seen them at least a little bashful. It's adorable.

The music is playing quietly now, seeing as most of the guests vacated the dance floor. Only a few stragglers are left, you included. So now you can properly talk to them.

"You know earlier... I wasn't exactly looking at the cupcakes…” You purse your lips, and squint your eyes, as if to will yourself to get the words out.

“I was staring at you." You chew your lip, looking away shyly. This confession could make or break this… whatever this is. You certainly don't wanna break it. While nervous, you had a feeling they would respond positively.

Their eyes snap back towards you, and they let themself smile, raising an eyebrow. "Ohhh, I'm that pretty, huh?" They tease.

You sigh and roll your eyes, they really are such a bastard. "Yeah yeah, whatever." You mutter, playfully pushing their shoulder. Not risking stroking their ego any further.

"No no, tell me, was it the bowtie?" They snicker, pushing their chest out a bit to really show it off.

You shake your head, running your hands up from their own and readjusting their accessory. “Yes, it was the bowtie, all I wanted was you, bowtie.” You whisper at their chest, pulling the sides of the bow.

“Psh,” They chuckle, “Okay for real! What was it, huh?” They say, flashing their signature grin while raising their eyebrows suggestively. Perhaps telling them was a bad idea, you purse your lips again, realizing they'll bother you forever until you tell them. It seems like they're DYING to know.

You hum, dropping your head onto their chest. With one hand still on their chest, you let your other trail down their arm before grasping theirs, bringing it up towards you. Flipping it palm up, you let your free hand lightly touch their palm. "Your hands, I like them. I was looking at them." Dragging your fingers along their palm, you feel every callous and rough patch of skin. You turn them over to admire their nail polish and knuckles. You even start to massage in-between their fingers, just soaking up the fact that you can touch them like this, and they're allowing you to.

They seem to be at a loss for words, and you figure that doesn't happen too often. Smiling, you walk your fingers up their arm and to their shoulder to rest it there, bringing your other arm up to mirror it. Their hands come up to your waist and bring you close. While enjoying the embrace, you weren't expecting them to shake you and hug you in tightly. They groan into your shoulder, as if frustrated. You puff out a laugh at their weirdness.

"Sorry- you're just so cute." They say, pulling back. "I just met you and you already got me in stitches." They admit, kicking the dirt by your feet. You figure instant attraction to a stranger is just as new to you as it is to them.

"Well..." You start, not even sure what to say. "We can… go back to my room? I'm staying at a hotel nearby. We can hang out, talk...see where it takes us?" Your voice raises at the end of your sentence, as if a little worried they'll say no. That's another lie, you were a LOT worried they'll say no, denying you any more of their time.

Your anxiety is evident as your eyes search their face for a clue, a glimmer of what they might say. Of what they could be thinking.

Sloane looks at you with tenderness. Such sweetness you could melt. They bring a hand up to cup the side of your face, rubbing their thumb across it. "I'd like that." They say, their voice seems to tighten as if they're both excited and nervous about the proposition.

Yeah, usually parties suck. But this one? This one was amazing.

#i proof read this like 2983 times and so did my bf and then also another friend so if theres a typo im sorry im stupid #venture x reader #sloane cameron #sloan cameron #overwatch #self insert #overwatch 2 #venture overwatch #great googily moogily that thang is juicey #crazy i wrote a fanfiction #also the songs are out of control by she wants revenge and then do i wanna know by arctic monkeys

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colemorrison · 1 month

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“I hate myself..”

The omnic’s head tilted, why would you ever see yourself in such an ill way.

“Why is that?”

You had been tense all day, he didn’t know why so he couldn’t help.

“I’m so annoying, and I never listen.”

Cool fingers came to cover your wet eyes, he knew you calmed down quicker if there wasn’t anything catching your attention.

“I adore how talkative you are, how excited you get over little things. How happy you get when you realise I have time to speak with you.”

You sobbed, tears covering your lovers fingers, you felt so pathetic crying this much over something so small.

“You not listening is cute, it’s adorable how you act like you’re the bigger person though you know full well you are not. Those things you dislike are some of my favourite parts of you, do not hate yourself for being you.”

Slowly your sobs lessened, tears leaving your eyes completely as he uncovered you.

“Are you alright?”

“Better.. I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologise for being human..”

#overwatch #overwatch2 #overwatch imagines #overwatch 2 #ramattra #ramattra x reader #ramattra ow #ramattra overwatch #ow2 ramattra #self insert ramattra comfort?? whatttt #cole’s drabbles

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sshadowritestoriess · 1 year

Note

hihi!! Ty for answering my question lol 🫶 I was wondering if you could do nsfw hcs for ramattra, zen, and genji? gn afab if possible 🫰

Sure thing here’s some general hcs of mine!

Ramattra NSFW

He’s absolutely demisexual, probably even leaning on ace. Sex just isn’t something he thinks about or craves until there’s a very specific moment with someone he trusts that would make him consider it

He’d be entirely and completely shocked that a human would find attraction to him in that way. Cue this ravager being absolutely floored by the idea that he had somehow aroused someone just by existing

For your first time, he probably asked a couple hundred questions before either of you ended up doing anything

You’re certain? With him? What had he done to elicit this response? It’s not just an odd attraction to omnics in general? This really isn’t some twisted joke? What makes you believe he’d be a sufficient partner? You understand he can’t actually make anything of this, and that this would merely be for the sake of pleasure? What do you imagine him doing? You’re not afraid? What if he hurt you? Wait— you want him to do what to you—?!

He indulges your urges for the sake of his curiosity, and entertainment. While he would have a complete understanding of how the act of procreation works, he’d still have no clue what he’s doing. But to hell if he would admit that— he’s a very fast learner, after all

Zero performance anxiety despite his level of expertise. You hungered for him once, before ever knowing what he was capable of, and he had confidence that he could make sure you’d feel just as starved for him once again

He would find having control of your body’s reactions the most exciting part of this. He likes roaming his hands around you, feeling you up and watching you lean into his touch and make noises that encourage him to continue

He makes noises reminiscent to a purr when he’s satisfied with something.

But it’s also conflicting, learning to be gentle in this kind of setting. Everything else he’s ever done came with a roughness he was used to, always needing to exert some amount of strength. He fought humans, he’d never had to please one

So sex is rather more a form of play for him, and you his toy. He is more than capable of experiencing pleasure, and he doesn’t dislike it— but he prefers to see how quickly he can get you to come undone

Or, test how long you can last.

He’ll try to kiss you. A gentle pulse from his faceplate into your cheek or neck, that somewhat tickles and surprises you. And he’d do it again to hear your laugh while he curls his fingers in you

And he enjoys partaking in your kinks, if you have the confidence to share them. He wouldn’t be so against giving some things a try, and would find some that truly do enhance the experience for him as well

Anything that’s done to him would have to be earned with trust, however. Especially something like wireplay— delicate parts of himself that could cause uncomfortable damage if handled carelessly. You’d have to build up a lot of faith in order to get the sweet reward of his startled whimpers whenever you tug on such an intricate system

His orgasm is a slow system override that causes his entire body to go tense. Everything in him strains at once, overheating, and a low growl emits from his vocalizer for the few seconds it takes his form to practically attack itself with a harsh reset. He tends to grab tight to something as it happens, to the point of shaking as he fights against powering off, fans as loud as ever. And then he’ll relax, a huge sigh will leave him, and the small vents in his back will release hot air that got trapped in his chassis.

But now and again he may end up too overwhelmed that he is unable to remain conscious, and he will black out for a moment before restarting. He was just not built to endure these kinds of sensations, but that didn’t make the experience any less fun for him

Overall he does this mostly for you, more than he would for himself. He has pride that you would want for him in this way, and he has little reason to refuse it

Zenyatta NSFW

He’s not the best with implications, so you’d have to be pretty straightforward when you ask

And you’d be shocked, every time, to hear him calmly accept the invitation as if you’d merely asked him out for lunch.

Before you, he hadn’t met anyone who wanted to try such an activity with him before. He was very curious how this would go— then you’d find yourself bashful when he asks when and where like you were organizing a meeting: “Do you have a preferred time or place?”

Then when you both would meet, he would ask patiently, “Where do we begin?”

When he removes his clothes, he folds them neatly to the side— though with an efficient quickness that is typically unlike him

If you have him undress you, he does so in the same way he would for himself. Any buttons are carefully undone, zippers are slowly dealt with, and he’d ask so kindly for you to raise your arms when he lifts your top up over your head

Absolutely a service top. He has a preference to be told what you want and are feeling up to, and he will carry out these commands thoroughly

A hand will occasionally stray to where he wants it, though, if one of them isn’t too busy. This could either be him touching you or himself, depending on how far along you both are

He likes when you sit on top of him, so he can see everything that’s going on. His astral hands sometimes ghost around your form to enhance what ministrations he’s doing, or better keep you in place

But if you’re feeling a preference to top, he’s nothing short of eager to let you take full control of everything. He has complete trust in you that you wouldn’t do anything to harm him while vulnerable like this

He’s very verbal. He explained once, something about vocal release allowing for focus on another sense, or whatever. But regardless, he made some heavenly sounds when you would touch him

You knew how collected Zenyatta always was, so it was ethereal when you’d make him break character for a moment— whether that be something as little as hearing him cuss, or as great as making him lose his patience

And the latter was rare. There is a lot the monk can endure, seemingly without a breaking point. So in the event that he has been ‘fed up’, truly he just understood you wanted to get a rise out of him. So he would oblige, and turn things around for your amusement. Though he absolutely could have gone longer, he would not wish to bore you

He never marked you, he was always careful. Even if you asked him to be more rough, he wasn’t very interested in causing pain— but he would try, if it’s what you truly wanted.

He likes being surprised. Catching him off guard always gets a good noise out of him

But he also likes to take things slowly, as well. Truly relish in all the feelings and converse about what’s on your mind while he takes you— or while you coax him in

The first time he had orgasmed actually startled you— a brief flash of light emitted from his body that quickly vanished when he crossed his arms over his chest, arching into a loud moan, like he was trying to keep something in. It was quick, and he’d collapse again with heavy breaths, apologizing quickly for having scared you

And this happens just about every time. If you told him not to hold back, he would refuse— his astral form would only mitigate the build-up and he would be left without release

But he also really enjoys aftercare; putting you both back together. He likes rubbing your back after cleaning up the mess, and remains sat beside you until you’re ready to get up again— or sleep.

He loves basking in the afterglow with you, and sometimes he’ll also fall asleep. Even more rarely, he’ll fall asleep before you— but then you’d end up waking to having a meal in bed that he would have prepared just for you

Genji NSFW

He has scarcely had (if any at all) intimate moments with anyone ever since he was made anew. It’s just hard for him

As much as he’s come to terms with his body, there’s still some essence of repulsion that remains— it’s unnatural, this combination of metal and flesh. He finds it difficult to really be engaged with that kind of stuff anymore

He also just assumed no one would be interested, so he never initiated. You would kinda have to bring it up first, and probably even convince him that you’re serious

Genji would be very eager despite the distaste has for his body, though try to hide how ecstatic he is about someone wanting him the way he is anyways. Just another little nudge forward that made him feel better about himself

Even if it might have been awhile, he never lost his touch. You would find his hands as skillful with your body as he was with a blade, years of training guiding the ministrations that would make your legs tremble

He knows just where all the right spots are, and he’ll prod at them with vigor. He’ll have you come undone before he gets even gets a chance to please himself as well

He’ll keep his helmet on unless you ask to see him, and he’ll make you promise to have him put it back on if you feel at all put off by his appearance

But if you take his visor and put it on yourself, he would find it very difficult not to suddenly ravish you and cum as soon as possible

He would eat at your neck like a starved animal, biting a little too hard— but not long enough to earn a complaint. He’d suck and kiss at your skin fervently, leaving loving bruises in his wake to make sure you wouldn’t forget where he’s been

And god does he make a lot of noises. He’s very whiney, if it had to be described; drags of his breath eliciting quiet pulls of his voice in very whimper-like sounds. He could not keep quiet

Even when he ate you out, he was practically murmuring his gratitude around a mouthful of your sex as if this were the last thing he’d ever eat

He would be very passionate to give you as good of a time as he could possibly show, leaving no room for any disappointment. Faster? You got it. Touch here? Of course. You want to ride him? By all means.

He’s the quick and intense sort, but his libido would come racing back so he could go quite a few rounds. His stamina far outmatched yours

And after you’re done he would kiss your hands and thank you, then offer to run a bath for you. (With hope that you would invite him to join you, so he’d have further opportunity to tend to whatever tensions still lie beneath your skin)

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