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fiachairecht) wrote2019-03-07 07:47 pm
fiachairecht) wrote2019-03-07 07:47 pm
Entry tags:
Overwatch ficlets
I live here now.
Title: find a heart and catch your breath
Pairing: Ana/D.Va
Rating: G
"Why don't you ever tell me stories, Ana?"
Ana looked up curiously, fingers pausing in their task of re-braiding her hair as she catches Hana's gaze in the small mirror. She's sprawled nude on her back amidst Ana's sheets, skin still rosy in the aftermath of their lovemaking.
"I tell you plenty of stories." Stories of the future, usually, stories about the life they'll build once the war has no more need of them. Sometimes she'll tell older stories, fairytales from her home that she hadn't told since Fareeha deemed herself too old to believe in but that Hana had never heard.
"Not really," Hana says. "Not about you. About Overwatch, before."
Ana forces a smile as she abandons her braiding to return to the bed, sitting down next to Hana and gently stroking her cheek. "It's easy enough to find out what happened during the Crisis. What we have now, what we're building is - it's better, no?"
Hana sighs. "It is," she agrees, and leans up to kiss Ana, a silent promise that she wouldn't trade what they had now for anything. "But that's not why I want to hear them."
Ana pulls her closer until the girl is curled up in her lap, cheek pressed against Ana's collarbone. "Why, then?"
"Because," Hana's voice is small in a way that reminds Ana just how young she is, "I like remembering that I can fight like this - like you - and still grow old."
Ana presses her lips to the top of Hana's head and feels her empty eye socket twitch with the memory of crying.
Title: hold the hand inside you
Pairing: Moira/Sombra
Rating: M
"So."
Sombra doesn't look up from the pieces of her gun, but Moira knows the tone all too well. It only ever means a question, and usually one that Sombra doesn't deserve the answer to.
Of course, she usually finds out anyway. It's just a matter of how much patience for toying with her Moira has on any given day.
"When you fade," Sombra continues, cheerfully ignoring the way Moira's putting no little effort into ignoring her. "What happens to your body? Where do all the little pieces go?"
"You wouldn't understand," Moira replies automatically, but the damage is already done. Her attention's been pulled from her work, and Sombra, languidly grinning up at her as she flicks an empty magazine around her fingers, absolutely knows it.
"I have a translocator," she says. "I think that gives me some experience with this type of ... movement."
"A translocator that you stole."
Sombra shrugs. "I make it work. I don't see you managing to use one."
"It's not a question of managing; I simply don't need one," Moira snaps, but even as the words leave her mouth she knows that by showing her annoyance she's already lost whatever game Sombra thinks she's playing. "Ask your real question."
Sombra drops the magazine with deceptive carelessness and moves closer, silent and unmistakably predatory as she loops her arms around Moira's waist and presses herself to her back. Moira inhales deeply, resists the urge to fit her hands over Sombra's.
"When you fade," Sombra whispers, and her breath is hot against the shell of Moira's ear. "When you fade and someone else is right there where you want to come back, what happens to both of you?"
Moira's grip on the edge of her desk tightens reflexively. She has suspicions, based off of her experiments with Reyes's new abilities and her own much more brief tests fading around solid objects. But another person - that, she hasn't tried. And now that Sombra's posed the question - practically begging to be Moira's first and only test subject - well, now her curiosity has reached a level that cannot be denied.
"I'm so glad it's you who wants to find out," she murmurs, and before Sombra can do more than draw breath to ask why, Moira lets herself fade backwards.
Sombra's body resists, pushes back against the unexpected molecular melding in a way that steel walls and cardboard boxes never managed to. Bodies are trained to resist foreign intrusions, after all, but as Moira gently reminds each of the cells she passes through, she's hardly an unfamiliar presence inside Sombra's body, even if this means of entry were somewhat unorthodox. And soon enough the resistance vanishes and Moira is free, adrift on rivers of blood vessels and bridges of neurons, all of Sombra's slick shining insides a personal playground for her body.
Sombra doesn't protest, at least not in a way Moira can recognise. She can't reform completely inside Sombra's body, not, she suspects, without killing her - and she feels the body around her shudder with fear at that, a slight ripple starting in the brain and travelling through the interconnected junctures of the muscular and nervous systems, before reaching the epidermis - but she can still feel her.
Still exist inside of her, still take in every new sensation, still retain some semblance of connection to the faded outside world through Sombra's dazed senses.
Moira had thought herself tolerably well acquainted with what the inside of Sombra's body felt like before. She had coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of her with five fingertips pressed against her vaginal walls, has cut open her back to examine the cybernetic implants placed against her spine. Yet none of that compares to the sensation of being not only inside her but her in most of the ways that count: dictating the flow of blood, listening with her ears, lifting - she tries, experimentally, commanding the right arm to raise and it obeys - yes, lifting her limbs.
"You," Sombra says, and Moira cannot smirk in this form but she can quirk Sombra's lips - electrical impulses from a secondary presence partially attached to the brainstem are electrical impulses from the brainstem. "What are you doing with my body?"
Moira moves Sombra's hand, slowly and deliberately, to the waistband of her leggings. Sombra doesn't make a sound, but the sudden increase in dopamine tells Moira everything she needs to know, and the slick heat Sombra's hand finds when Moira slides it inside her underwear tells her everything she needs to know.
Really, this is the best solution for both of them. Sombra has found out what happens when Moira fades into another person, and Moira - Moira can't wait to find out what Sombra's pleasure feels like from the inside out.
Title: find a heart and catch your breath
Pairing: Ana/D.Va
Rating: G
"Why don't you ever tell me stories, Ana?"
Ana looked up curiously, fingers pausing in their task of re-braiding her hair as she catches Hana's gaze in the small mirror. She's sprawled nude on her back amidst Ana's sheets, skin still rosy in the aftermath of their lovemaking.
"I tell you plenty of stories." Stories of the future, usually, stories about the life they'll build once the war has no more need of them. Sometimes she'll tell older stories, fairytales from her home that she hadn't told since Fareeha deemed herself too old to believe in but that Hana had never heard.
"Not really," Hana says. "Not about you. About Overwatch, before."
Ana forces a smile as she abandons her braiding to return to the bed, sitting down next to Hana and gently stroking her cheek. "It's easy enough to find out what happened during the Crisis. What we have now, what we're building is - it's better, no?"
Hana sighs. "It is," she agrees, and leans up to kiss Ana, a silent promise that she wouldn't trade what they had now for anything. "But that's not why I want to hear them."
Ana pulls her closer until the girl is curled up in her lap, cheek pressed against Ana's collarbone. "Why, then?"
"Because," Hana's voice is small in a way that reminds Ana just how young she is, "I like remembering that I can fight like this - like you - and still grow old."
Ana presses her lips to the top of Hana's head and feels her empty eye socket twitch with the memory of crying.
Title: hold the hand inside you
Pairing: Moira/Sombra
Rating: M
"So."
Sombra doesn't look up from the pieces of her gun, but Moira knows the tone all too well. It only ever means a question, and usually one that Sombra doesn't deserve the answer to.
Of course, she usually finds out anyway. It's just a matter of how much patience for toying with her Moira has on any given day.
"When you fade," Sombra continues, cheerfully ignoring the way Moira's putting no little effort into ignoring her. "What happens to your body? Where do all the little pieces go?"
"You wouldn't understand," Moira replies automatically, but the damage is already done. Her attention's been pulled from her work, and Sombra, languidly grinning up at her as she flicks an empty magazine around her fingers, absolutely knows it.
"I have a translocator," she says. "I think that gives me some experience with this type of ... movement."
"A translocator that you stole."
Sombra shrugs. "I make it work. I don't see you managing to use one."
"It's not a question of managing; I simply don't need one," Moira snaps, but even as the words leave her mouth she knows that by showing her annoyance she's already lost whatever game Sombra thinks she's playing. "Ask your real question."
Sombra drops the magazine with deceptive carelessness and moves closer, silent and unmistakably predatory as she loops her arms around Moira's waist and presses herself to her back. Moira inhales deeply, resists the urge to fit her hands over Sombra's.
"When you fade," Sombra whispers, and her breath is hot against the shell of Moira's ear. "When you fade and someone else is right there where you want to come back, what happens to both of you?"
Moira's grip on the edge of her desk tightens reflexively. She has suspicions, based off of her experiments with Reyes's new abilities and her own much more brief tests fading around solid objects. But another person - that, she hasn't tried. And now that Sombra's posed the question - practically begging to be Moira's first and only test subject - well, now her curiosity has reached a level that cannot be denied.
"I'm so glad it's you who wants to find out," she murmurs, and before Sombra can do more than draw breath to ask why, Moira lets herself fade backwards.
Sombra's body resists, pushes back against the unexpected molecular melding in a way that steel walls and cardboard boxes never managed to. Bodies are trained to resist foreign intrusions, after all, but as Moira gently reminds each of the cells she passes through, she's hardly an unfamiliar presence inside Sombra's body, even if this means of entry were somewhat unorthodox. And soon enough the resistance vanishes and Moira is free, adrift on rivers of blood vessels and bridges of neurons, all of Sombra's slick shining insides a personal playground for her body.
Sombra doesn't protest, at least not in a way Moira can recognise. She can't reform completely inside Sombra's body, not, she suspects, without killing her - and she feels the body around her shudder with fear at that, a slight ripple starting in the brain and travelling through the interconnected junctures of the muscular and nervous systems, before reaching the epidermis - but she can still feel her.
Still exist inside of her, still take in every new sensation, still retain some semblance of connection to the faded outside world through Sombra's dazed senses.
Moira had thought herself tolerably well acquainted with what the inside of Sombra's body felt like before. She had coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of her with five fingertips pressed against her vaginal walls, has cut open her back to examine the cybernetic implants placed against her spine. Yet none of that compares to the sensation of being not only inside her but her in most of the ways that count: dictating the flow of blood, listening with her ears, lifting - she tries, experimentally, commanding the right arm to raise and it obeys - yes, lifting her limbs.
"You," Sombra says, and Moira cannot smirk in this form but she can quirk Sombra's lips - electrical impulses from a secondary presence partially attached to the brainstem are electrical impulses from the brainstem. "What are you doing with my body?"
Moira moves Sombra's hand, slowly and deliberately, to the waistband of her leggings. Sombra doesn't make a sound, but the sudden increase in dopamine tells Moira everything she needs to know, and the slick heat Sombra's hand finds when Moira slides it inside her underwear tells her everything she needs to know.
Really, this is the best solution for both of them. Sombra has found out what happens when Moira fades into another person, and Moira - Moira can't wait to find out what Sombra's pleasure feels like from the inside out.