Overwatch Oneshots ~ Requests welcome!

Tracer x Male reader

There it is, commissioned by my friend, Mellodrone
Hope you enjoy it!

You fall to the ground, warm blood running from your nose. You hear people counting down: "Five, four, three-" and you get up. Another punch connects with your stomach, but you keep on fighting. You throw punches at the general direction of your opponent. Some of them land, but they don't carry enough weight to do anything. You decide to switch tactics. Now you burden your opponent with a swarm of quick punches and kicks, he tries to punch back but he has to keep his hands up to protect himself. His muscle-bound body puts him at a disadvantage as you hop around him and hit him as quickly as you can. He tries to kick you, but you're too quick. You swipe his other leg out from below him. He falls down. The crowd cheers. He stands back up and shakes his head.

You look at him, determination in your eyes. He charges at you but you dodge to the side. He hits the side of the makeshift arena, which happens to be a concrete barrier. You can tell he got the air knocked out of him and waste no time. The cheers from the crowd are getting louder. You grab your opponent's head and hit it against the wall. Again and again and again. After you take a look at his face, which was broken and bloody, you slam his face against the floor. You stand up and put your hands up triumphantly as the crowd goes wild.

************

You walk back to your shitty apartment, a bag of cash in hand and a smug smile on your face. You're about to unlock the door but find out that your door was replaced by a man. The man has white hair and his face is covered by some sort of mask. "Who are you? Also, can you move the fuck away from my door?" You ask. "My name is Jack Morrison, and I watched you fight." He says. "You're pretty good, we could use that skill in Overwatch." "Look, buddy. I don't want no part in your goody-two-shoes corporation okay? Now go away." You say. "I'm not your buddy." He says. "And I'm not the only one who watched your little illegal gig." He points at something behind your shoulder. You turn around and see a couple of police officers you haven't noticed when you walked in. One of them, tall black man with a magnificent moustache and a pair of shades twirled a pair of handcuffs on his finger, chuckling to himself.

You can't go to jail.

Not again. That'd make it the 5th time this year.

"Where do I sign?"

************

After a long flight from Boston, you land in Gibraltar. And right as you disembark, this happens: "Captain Morrison! You're back. Ooh, and I see you've brought me a little toy to play with, eh?" A young woman says. "I'm kidding of course. I'm Lena by the way. Though you can call me Tracer." She says with a smile. Jack seems to be processing the blur of words that came out of Lena's mouth.

"Wait, aren't you a lesbian?" Jack wonders. "I'm bi. That's something completely different, old man!" Tracer shouts. "Same difference." Jack mutters. "I heard that!"

"If you'll just show me where my cell- I mean, my room is, I'll be on my merry way." You say. "Oh, right. I'll show you where it is. Follow me and try to keep up." She says and goes in the general direction of where you suspect the living quarters are. But then you eye latches on to something rather... 'scandalous' "That's one fine bun you've got there." You mutter to yourself, not realising that you're thinking out loud. "Come on!" Tracer shouts. "Shit, alright! God damn, she doesn't have a lot of patience does she?"

************

A year goes by, and you feel like a completely different man. Actually doing some good for a change has a benevolent effect on you. Actually, something that never really happened before is happening now. You feel genuine affection towards a human being.