@soldier24th​​:  "Are you using condoms?"

normally  an  expert  at  keeping  her  poker  face  intact,  the  question  has  her  whirling  on  him  -  face  lit  up  with  surprise  and  mouth  momentarily  slack  jawed.  if  nothing  else  than  hearing  the  word ‘condom’  leave  the  infamous  reaper’s  mouth  has  her  staggered,  even  a  little  chilled.  but  there  was  something  utterly  comical  about  an  internationally  wanted  homicidal  murderer/human  vape  machine  asking  her,  a  thirty  year  old  woman,  if  she  was  using  condoms. 

the  look  she  levels  him  with  has  morphed  from  surprised  to  scathing. 

as  if  she  were  something  akin  to  a  peeved  off  cat,  she  reaches  outwards  from  her  position  on  his  table,  to  lightly  knock  an  adjacent  communicator  on  the  floor.  it  was  a  gesture  purely  made  of  spite. 

@soldier24th​ sent;   "don't call me that," the frustration in his tone is highly audible, even with the mask on his face. of course akande knows his real name, but that doesn't mean he wants to be called gabriel. not after everything that gabriel reyes did and had done to him. "i'm reaper. /just/ reaper."

Akande peered over to the mask-clad man, lips forming a straight, albeit thick line. A beat of silence reigned, however brief, as his gaze resumed upon the projected screen that lay, pinched, betwixt fingers. Words floated upon a technological plate, detailing various accounts of newfound threats to Talon’s glory and he scanned over them lightly.

“Okay, Gabriel ‘Just Reaper’ Reyes.”

modern reapyatta

so thanks to marina and i going buckwild abt reapyatta, i may or may not have started writing a fic. i’ve always wanted to write a fic but never have; maybe this is my chance 😳😳

❝ Why? ❞  he chimes, curiosity fringing his inflection as optics turn to face the man. He stood still, cloaked in those same dark garbs, that ominously owl-shaped mask boring holes into his metallic skull. But Zenyatta can sense the turmoil that thrashes within.  ❝ Because you are worthy of help. Worthy of help, compassion, and love. ❞

Hatred is not a strategy, rings in his mind. He knows that this man, Reaper they call him, has killed so many. Caused so much pain, a rippling network of agony that pulsates from an origin point — him. But Zenyatta can feel something more. Something that’s not quite tethered to Talon, struggling in a bid to get free.

Blue eyes, once warm and smiling, were wide with rage. Rage that stormed his body like soldiers flooding from the Trojan Horse; it was sudden, immediate, consuming. The flames of his anger were stoked further when Gabriel — no, Reaper — cocked his shotgun beneath his chin, the mouth of its barrels grazing his throat’s apple.

Sweat and blood wept, mingling. Those fucking claws, tearing up his jacket and rending skin and flesh — Reaper was toying with his food and they both knew it. Jack gritted his teeth so hard it hurt, but the pain was nothing in the face of his own ire.

❝ I did, ❞  he growled out, maw brandished like a wild animal,  ❝ once. ❞

Send a 'ʘ‿ʘ' if your muse finds my muse attractive.

“Of course you think I’m attractive,” he purrs out. It’s cocky, it’s smug  — a gentle coaxing rub of his already inflated ego  —  yet both are to know it to be true. The walking monstrosity known as Reaper, wielding layer upon layer of defences against not only physical attacks but emotional vulnerability, unveiling himself for none except Akande.

The bullet narrowly missed a vein. Lodged betwixt flesh and muscle, it sparked spirals of pain to whirl up and down his leg. Blood wept, crying red down calf, leaving a thin trail behind him. Not an ounce of agony managed to brew upon his face; he refused to let people know he was in pain.

He could spy Reaper - no, Gabriel, from the mouth of the hall. Bare of coat, but not bare of mask, slithering up to him as Akande stood firm. Akande peered down at him, expression firm and unrelenting, even as concern twisted the other’s gravelled throat.

‘Let me see,’ he said, stepping closer, ‘I’ll take the bullet out for you.’

The first instinct was to quell this demand, command that they needed to leave it up to the medical professionals... but then, a sudden bout of distrust welled up within. What if he couldn’t trust Talon’s medical team? He could trust Gabriel, that much he knew, but them? It was like juggling a bomb, hoping it didn’t blow up in your face. It would blow up eventually, if he kept on giving it chances.

Akande exhaled, shoulders sinking, chest deflating. The firmness of his gaze softened, his lips - once a strict, thin line - relaxing. He refused to let himself succumb to full-fledged paranoia, but sometimes a little paranoia saved one’s hide from demise. Just a little pinch, here and there.