#greenhairedninja

Commission for @greenhairedninja Some suited (and presumably booted) Hanzo ;D TYSM for supporting me! <3

The omnic issued a soft, synthetic, sigh and appeared to sag in on himself, somewhat. He had no lungs to speak of, but he’d come to learn that body language spoke volumes to humans and animals alike. And in this instance, very little about his aura was simulated - He had suspected this may happen.“I believed not, also.”

Blunt, but no less softly spoken, his sadness was tangible.

Genji had left the sanctity of Nepal some time after Zenyatta had announced that he would be moving on, also. There was nothing to stop his student following him, of course, he would have been more than welcome. Yet since his arrival, all that time ago, Genji had been working towards a single goal: Inner peace. Over the coming months, he had learned balance, discipline, the strength of wisdom enough to understand he was no less a man for the body parts he lacked, than he had been hours before the horrors that had seen him lose them to begin with. If anything at all, Genji had grown into himself, had become more than he thought was possible.

But while he was at peace with himself, there was always something more to it, something Genji had known, deep down, that he would have to address sooner or later. His decision to seek out his brother had come as no surprise to Zenyatta. The omnic’s hesitation, however, had been thinly veiled. While Genji had gone to meticulous lengths to track Hanzo’s movements, he had not factored in the one uncertainty in this whole debacle: Hanzo’s reaction. Still grieving for his brother, the elder Shimada had lived the past years in the belief that Genji was gone forever. Lost to his own hand. “Your brother has a long road ahead of him, as did you, once.” Zenyatta said, placing one oversized hand against the armoured shoulder of his student, “It is not goodbye forever, Genji. It is merely goodbye for now.”

And all the time that passed between would be time enough for Hanzo to heal. He would see the truth when he was ready.

“He will seek you out when he realizes it.”

“A demon? Are you certain?” The monk’s narrow eyes go wide, brows furrowed with concern. 

“As certain as I am my mother’s daughter,” the woman says gravely, taking a long sip of her tea. Mitsugi Kimoko is an elegant, regal woman, with sharp features and dark, intelligent eyes. Too intelligent, Zenyatta thinks. “He’s powerful. Manages to...outmaneuver every hunter that comes for him. I believe that a more refined approach is needed.” 

Zenyatta’s lips quirk in the faintest of smiles. “Mintsugi-sama, if this demon has managed to outwit all hunters who seek his death, then a single monk is surely no match for him.”

“There’s something different about you,” Kimiko insists. “You have an aura about you; you’re divine, are you not?” Far too intelligent. 

Zenyatta laughs softly. “My, I am flattered, Mitsugi-sama.”

His eyes meet hers and begin glowing with an intense golden light. A hint of too-sharp canines peeks out from behind his smiling lips. 

“But you are mistaken.” 

Zenyatta looks up at the home before him with impassive golden eyes. He had been led here by his nose, scenting a powerful supernatural being. In the smell was anything to go by, this was not a being that should be trifled with. 

By all accounts, he should stay away. Two unfamiliar, powerful entities in close proximity don’t tend to mix well. But foxes have always been naturally curious. 

           Chirrut shivered, letting out a garbled moan as Genji kissed along a particularly sensitive area of his neck, being quite attuned to the feelings of his body made it feel overwhelming and he couldn’t help but let out the soft sound. Though he flustered when Genji asked him the question, nodding and kissing him shakily. 

                    “You’re just... I am getting a bit excited from this...”

Send “%” for a CURIOUS text.

● @greenhairedninja - and a neck kiss ●

“Genji,”

Zenyatta all but breathes, his day all at once brightened when a pair of thin but immeasurably kind lips presses onto the back of his neck, a little to the right of his spine. He resists the urge to unfold and is unable to unbend, stuck in his lazily postured lotus. He does tilt his head a little to the left, his version of a smile, and feels his gaze close from the ground it was glued to, content as a warm snake.