ovwechoes

[ovwechoes]

Rubs hands together evilly..... I yearn for nsfw Bapweaver hcs. there is a severe Bapweaver content drought and I have missed them dearly. Your writing is lovely, by the way! :3

theres a drought and im happy to be a drizzle to help you! thank you for the compliment too :) nsfw (mdni) / mlm / under the cut - enjoy!

Baptiste loves to serve Niran - his ideal fantasy is to view Niran as a prince, and him a servant. Baptiste does have somewhat of a dominant side, especially when he's stressed or feels backed in a corner, but when he's with Niran all he wants to do is serve him. He wants to watch Niran enjoy himself endlessly from the pleasure he's providing, whether thats with his hands, mouth, or toys.

Theyre an open minded couple - it took Baptiste some time to come around to the idea of toys in the bedroom, but Niran coached him through it, shopped online with him, and let him get comfortable before trying them out. After that, though, it was as though Baptiste's mind was flooded with ideas, almost as if Niran had brought down a mental block then and there and had shown him he could explore anything together.

Niran loves to watch Baptiste on his knees, infront of a mirror. Something about the way Baptiste is so focused on him, his attention unwavering and his mind one tracked is breathtaking for Niran. It makes him feel special, important and as though he's the only thing Baptiste truly cares about in that moment. Niran loves to hear his name fall off Baptiste's lips though - he won't admit it unless he's drunk and lost his sense of composure, but he truly does. Whether it's because he knows Baptiste would do it all the more, or if he feels embarrassed, only Niran knows.

When Baptiste is in a dominant mood, he likes to be rough with Niran and focuses more on unwinding his stress (with consent ofc). Niran is addicted to this side of Baptiste, wishing he could see it more often, causing him to tease or rile Baptiste up in moments he shouldn't. Baptiste knows what he's doing too, and yet falls for it every time.

Baptiste can sometimes be a selfish lover - he becomes fixated on one specific sex act, and wants nothing but that act. It frustrates Niran at times, as he wants fluidity and flexibility in his sex life. They've had countless squabbles over it, with Baptiste not realising he's doing this and Niran feeling as though he's sexually neglected. It always, without fail, ends with them a mess in bed, body fluids staining their sheets and their hair a mess. Niran never holds it against him, thankfully, and understands Baptiste needs a reminder or two every so often.

[ovwechoes]

aaaaaaaaa more lucio x fem!reader please 🙏😭 the one I just read was BEAUTIFUL AAAAAAA

of course! happy to provide <3 sfw / het themes under the cut - enjoy!

He just cant keep his hands off you when youre together - all he wants to do is touch you somewhere, in some way. He wouldn't invade your personal space without making sure you're okay, but sometimes he craves just having your skin under his fingertips. When relaxing together, watching a movie together, or even just cuddling early in the morning, his hands will always trace the edges of your hips, moles or spots that linger on your shoulders, trace his fingers down your spine. He loves to feel you there, in your most natural form.

And when you're going out for dates? He can't help himself - his hands are lingering somewhere on you, preventing anyone from guessing if you're with him or not. If you're going on a fancy dinner date, he has his hand on your thigh as you two chat, waiting for your food or drinks to arrive. If you're backstage one of his shows, trust me he's already planning on bringing you onstage to show you off whilst his hand lays on your lower back and the other focused on the decks infront of the two of you.

Lucio would love to stain your skin with his fingerprint, and something about feeling the life flow through his touch when he's close to you is addictive to him; he can't get enough.

[ovwechoes]

returning?

Hi, been a very long time and I apologise for that massively.

Had a lot of life events happen, I had basically no time to myself and I just fell out of love for writing I think because I wasn't doing it partially for my own enjoyment anymore.

I've got my time back though, so I want to come back to writing even a little, so I'm going to be closing my inbox until I've completed those requests, and trying to focus more on writing what I enjoy, rather than for other people entirely. It kind of made me feel burnt out so now I'm gonna try and avoid that if possible.

If you've stuck around until now, thank you. I appreciate it and seeing my posts still have activity w people seemingly enjoying them truly makes me so happy. Genuinely, thank you.

I hope that you still enjoy the things I write from now on!

[ovwechoes]

Hello, this one’s a bit complicated, but can I request Hana Song helping her S/O recover after they’d been rescued from Talon’s clutches, maybe having been turned into some kind of brainwashed assassin for them? Thank you :))

MY HEART of course I'll write this! Headcanons are under the cut and mostly about the beginning stages because I rly loved this prompt and kinda wanna continue this one day but ANYWAYS, enjoy! themes: trauma, established relationship, brainwashing, death and murder, innocent/corrupted dynamic, sfw, gn reader

Hana wouldn't know what to do when she saw you laying in the hospital bed, still unconscious from the meds that Angela had to give you. You tried to attack her the moment you realised where you were, and she had to keep you safe from yourself. But still, it hurt Hana seeing you so... changed.

The main thoughts going through her mind in this situation would be 'how did I let this happen?'. She wants to be your guardian, your protector and the person you can rely on. So, when she sees how badly damaged you have become because she lost you that day to Talon, her heart breaks. Hana never would've expected the things that you had to endure to become their perfect soldier, and she can't help but blame herself for what happened.

When Angela suggested exposure therapy to help revert your mindset, and suggested to Hana that she should speak to you, remind you of who she is to you and who you are deep down behind Talon's experiments and life-changing alterations, she didn't want to at first. She didn't know if she could handle the responsibility of it - what if it didn't work? What if, by some chance, you do revert back to the person Hana grew to love, and then you were captured or hurt again? It was something she didn't want to risk, and it took a LOT of coaxing from the other members of Overwatch to get her to at least try it.

Hana would've began by returning to your room in the early morning, whilst the nurses had their handovers and were occupied with one another as opposed to you. It was her chance to watch you asleep - you were always a deeper sleeper when things were causing turmoil in your mind, somehow, so you wouldn't have felt her trembling hand touching yours lightly. It was strange to her, feeling your skin in that moment. It had been no less than a year since you went missing, and she found herself learning to get used to the grooves of your skin all over again. But a part of her liked it - it was as though she was on this journey with you.

In the beginning, she could only stay until lunch. By then, you'd always, without fail, awake by 10am and begin your analysis' on the enemy infront of you. Hana could see by the way your eyes drifted slowly but precisely over her that you were watching her movements, sizing her up almost. She had to bite her tongue, though, and let you. After all, its better to take it slow, than to rush things right now... right? After you sized up your prey infront of you, the woman holding your hand softly as though she were a ghost, you would always become aggressive. If it weren't for Angela's restraints holding your shoulders back against the bed, you'd have hurt Hana in ways your past self wouldn't have dreamt. But Hana never judged you for it, never reluctantly considered if this was all worth it. Instead, she understood it all. It pained her to a point where she couldn't hold back her tears some nights, but she never let that show to you. Otherwise, you'd never learn to trust her again, or be willing to learn what her love feels like. You were traumatised and coded to react precisely how Talon wanted you to, and Hana became determined to undo it with every visit, pushing your limits and mindsets with every visit.

Eventually, you allowed her to speak to you; truthfully, you wanted intel. But, after some time, it felt as though you were remembering things. Her touch was second nature at this time - it never drove past the simple hand over yours, and yet you felt more and more as though this was familiar, but still unique. As though this was all yours, always was yours. And that slow, steady path to learning to accept what the woman infront of you was telling her, and learning to accept the touch that never hurt you but simply lingered as a comforting presence helped undo all that Talon put in your mind.

[ovwechoes]

thoughts on pillow princess zarya sometimes

YES i love the idea! I wrote an imagine under the cut based on it, enjoy! themes: foreplay, gn/dom reader, slight bdsm, servitude, nsfw dont interact if you're under 18

Imagine Zarya writhing under your touch - she can't get enough of the way your fingers push slowly up and down, over and over, without relenting. It makes her back arch, her hips move into yours with a surprising gentleness that only comes from her tiredness. She can't help but realise how badly she needed this right now, after the day she had - working tirelessly, endlessly, and without break really does a number on your body, she always reminded you. Right now, though, you needed her to realise the same and let herself melt into the pleasure you were gifting her.

Your free hand would be rubbing her hips, holding her slightly there and making her slightly submit to your pleasure more. The way she uttered your name under her breath with every other motion made your body shake with anticipation - but you wouldn't give her that unless she was ready. All you were focused on was how much she enjoyed this, and how willingly she gave up control over her body for you. It was a blessing, really, to see her move like this infront of you - it was animalistic, almost, and somewhat shocking.

You were used to her taking the reigns, but this time she needed to let go. You whispered guidance and praise to her, and it seemed to make her throb around your fingers. Her body was practically begging for more from you, and who are you to keep it from her, especially when her face is burried under the back of her hand as her voice keeps climbing, stuttering, shaking?

[ovwechoes]

can you do more tokkitsune headcannons? i’m dying for more😭

Tokkitsune Headcanons (SFW) I'm happy to! I have a good amount already, so I'll try and make this one more scenario based - I hope you enjoy, and thank you for the request c: (there's no questions in this post)

Kiriko loves when she holds Hana in the night. Something about feeling her warm breath against her, usually, cold body brings her relief. The angelic way Hana molds herself to Kiriko's body is effortless to her, and it makes her heart skip beats when she hears Hana mumble in her sleep. Kiriko would never tell Hana that she talks in her sleep, wanting to keep this little secret all to herself.

Hana can't help but always keep an eye on Kiriko wherever they are - if she's caught, she denies it thoroughly. But she can't help it; she has to make sure that Kiriko's safe and has someone looking out for her when she's got her guard down. Hana doesn't see her relax often, so she has to protect her however she can.

Kiriko often teases Hana for how prideful she can be. It's rare that Hana will admit to anything that may sully her image in a way that's vulnerable, so when she finally is left with no choice but to do so, Kiriko has to keep that information in her mind, ready for the next time Hana might use her sharp tongue against her. It's her way of reminding Hana to drop her guard, and to let her be vulnerable no matter how embarrassing it might be (in the most unserious way possible, of course).

Kiriko may be older, but there's times where Hana feels as though she's the older one in the relationship. But that's because Kiriko feels like she can drop her guard, and be childish with Hana without being judged. It's simple things, like making silly jokes at innocent things that look innappropriate, or making teasing digs to their shared friends in a way that would make her look 16. Hana doesn't mind though, and sometimes likes having someone willing to let themselves be naturally them without their age dictating their behaviours.

Hana loves to ask Kiriko questions others might not understand but she does, and shows more about Kiriko's character than she might realise. For example, one of her favourites is asking Kiriko which animal she would like to be, if she could choose one to reincarnate into. Kiriko, of course, replies with ‘fox’, but when prompted further and scolded for picking her favourite animal, and not one that fits her personality, she spends a lengthy time re-evaluating her answer. It's sweet to Hana, seeing her take her time more and let herself answer more deeply.

Kiriko's answer always changes each time, revealing something new to Hana with every animal. The one that stook out to Hana the most was a red panda - Kiriko explained she felt akin to their playful nature, whilst also being flexible and balanced in combat. It was the last thing she'd expect to hear, and yet she can see it completely - now, Hana calls her ‘panda’ as a small, affectionate nickname behind closed doors.

When Hana asks what her animal would be, Kiriko always tells and reminds her that she would be a Kookaburra. It offended Hana at first, with her refusing to even engage with the conversation further, but after hearing her explanation she can see why Kiriko associates it with her. It's known for it's disctinctive, loud laugh and are quite boastful and playful. Kiriko says to her each time that she's reminded of them because of her desire for the spotlight, and her drive to be social with everyone she meets so long as they accept her.

[ovwechoes]

uh anyways lets pretend i wasnt gone for like 20 days because of work scheduling me in almost every day with today being one of my first days off.. hi

[ovwechoes]

Ey, it's really late where i am so this is maybe gonna be blunt but don't stress yourself abt getting behind on the posts. You've done some good work already, so we're chilling. Everything has been really hard for everybody everywhere lately, so don't even sweat it on the fanfics <3

thank you honestly ive been so stressed trying to find time to write recently - been working 30hr shifts recently (sleep ins) and its impossible for me to write whilst on shift unless i try on my phone - just so tiring but ill be working on them tonight and then over the next couple days when im off (finally) <3

thank you for the understanding tho i rly needed to see this

[ovwechoes]

Marriage by Convenience with Pharah x Reader Themes: lawyer au, requited feelings, gn reader, drabble, dialogue heavy (ish) Word count: 1630

When your boss proposed that, in order to progress and become an established partner within your law firm, you'd need to be married to be ‘respected’ you saw red. You had worked incredibly hard for this promotion, with it dangled infront of you countless times by them. And yet, in that moment, it seemed as though it was just a pipe dream. As though everything you had given for this firm had been for nothing - you had promised yourself that you wouldn't be married and wind up like those couples who lose everything to one another, it was your worst nightmare. But right now, you were left with no other option. It was maddening, and only a bottle of wine with your long-time colleague, Fareeha, could've remedied your anger. 

That night, as you two sat in your shared penthouse suite with glasses in each hand, you felt your anger dissipate with each reassuring word from her. She shared your anger, even if she remained loyal to the firm and couldn't empathise with your drive to progress. For her, she was content in her position - she served herself, her clients and her firm well with grace and respect, so she had no gain in progressing in her mind. But, Fareeha could see on your face how much it troubled you. She could see your pain, and that's when she suggested it. Something you never expected.

“You want me to marry you?” “Only on paper, and if you're willing to. It would solve your problem, wouldn't it?”

You remained silent then, considering your options. Fareeha noticed this, and took it as reluctance, fear, or concern.

“Look, you don't have to. I know how you feel about marriage, and I don't blame you for it. If anything, we'd just be married on paper. We can keep being friends and working together, without anything involved. It's all up to you, so no pressure.” she smiled, her eyes drifting to her drink as she spoke. You didn't know if she was drunkenly offering this right now, only to revoke it in the future, but a part of you felt it was as though divine intervention was handing you a solution.

“Are you sure about this, Fareeha?” “Completely. It's not like I'm marrying anyone anytime soon, and besides, it gets ماما (mom) off my back.” she chuckled as she spoke, leaving you with the solution you had been desperately, mentally searching for until now.

That's how you found yourself in this situation - married and thriving as one of the firm's newly established partner. It had been 7 months since that conversation - the first month was spent on preparing for the wedding. You wanted something simple and still believable - if you weren't able to convince your boss this was a true, bonefide marriage, it would've all been for nothing. Then, 3 months later, the wedding happened due to the courthouse having a surprise cancellation, meaning things could happen much more quickly for the two of you. That following week, the wedding finally happened with your dress and her suit arriving just in time. It was as though it was all meant to happen right then, right there, and you two couldn't possibly pass on this opportunity.

Of course, Fareeha's mother attended alongside your own parents. You had never seen someone smile so brightly at their daughter, which a part of you envied deeply. The wedding was beautiful, and the two of you were satisfied with it and the pictures that came from it. The wedding was nothing short of perfect, with it being enough to gain you respect from your boss and get you the promotion you had set your heart onto. It was all thanks to Fareeha's proposal, and you felt yourself growing more appreciative for things as your marriage continued.

It was an agreement at first, but now things in you had shifted and you grew to enjoy certain perks of marriage as time passed by. It seemed as though the same could be said for Fareeha, as her actions towards you became more considerate and daring.

You found yourself sat at your desk in your office - it was pristine, and so much more spacious compared to your cubicle. Your mind was focused on the work infront of you - contract renewal plans, financial budgets for your lawyers, etc. It was draining, with your mind wandering elsewhere. Somewhere familiar, and somewhere you noticed yourself going to more often now.

You imagined yourself laying next to Fareeha, something that happened more often now as the two of you lived together. You couldn't help but move your hand to her cheek in this daydream, holding her gently as she faced you in the bed. Her hair framed her face beautifully, with her tattoo under her eye emphasising Fareeha's iris'. You often akined them to burnished gold, with a fire ignited behind them when she grew focused on tasks at hand. She looked gorgeous in the darkly lit room you had imagined, as she lay there silent and staring back at you with a smile spread across her face.

“Hello… Yes I have a woman who's stuck in her daydreams… Yes she's awake but she's unresponsive…” Fareeha's sarcastic tone droned through you, bringing you back to reality as you realised she now stood infront of you, frustrated with the lack of attention you must've failed to give her before. Her face still held a mischevious smile, with your gaze drifting towards it and finally observing her whole statute.

Her hand was raised to her ear, as though she was on the phone. Something you noticed she did often to rile you up, and to bring a laugh out of you when your mood dipped. You rolled your eyes at the realisation that she was mimicking an emergency call, and began to configure a retort in your mind.

“Oh, come on. Hang up, I'm here.” you replied in a humerous, but still stern tone. “Finally, it's only been 5 minutes of me trying to get your attention.” Fareeha dropped her arm, letting silence linger for a moment as she repositioned herself infront of your desk. She stood tall in her work attire - a smart blazer, work trousers with a high-end belt, and a pen tieing her hair up (typical of her). She stood patiently, before breaking the moment with her words again.

“What did you want to talk about then?” “Oh yeah, I have your new contract here. Sign them once you've read through them, and give them to Vivian.”

Fareeha nodded in response, a grunt amplifying her understanding. It was hard being one of her bosses sometimes, but it definitely had their perks. You always convinced yourself those perks were purely platonic, purely friendship-based. And yet, Fareeha saw right through you and managed to use your hidden agendas to her benefit.

She paused for a moment, as she briefly read through them before abruptly stopping. Something caught her attention, and your fixation on her expression prevented you from carrying on your work and simply ignoring her.

“Says here I'll be working under Vivian permanently…” she uttered under her breath, a layer of sadness laced into her words. Her expression was softer than before, with her smile gone, but you still struggled to exactly place where her sadness came from. Was it because Vivian was infamously more strict than you as a partner, or was it something else? You didn't know, and you didn't have the time to entertain it right now.

“Yep. You've been bringing a lot of high-class clients in, so she's requested you to be on her team.” you explained, before letting your eyes drift back to your work. Fareeha wasn't pleased with this - something bothered her about this, and even she couldn't figure out why in this moment. But she didn't take the time to think, before biting back at this.

“And you're okay with this?” “Yup. Are you? If you don't want to work with her that's fine, I'm sure Sloan's team needs an extra set of ha-”

“Oh no, I'm alright with it. I'm just making sure you are…” she started, pausing for a moment to see if you'll look up and take pity on her demeanour. When you didn't, she took this as a challenge to rile you up further - something she had started doing now that the two of you were married.

"I just don't want you to miss me too much, that's all." Fareeha began, her tone soft and airy, with her words stretched out for emphasis. It was her way of teasing you, and you knew it all too well. When you looked up, you couldn't help but notice the slight curl of the corner of her mouth. It was as though she was waiting for you to snip back at her, so that she could continue bringing something out of you. You weren't going to let her win that easily, though.

“Bold words, Fareeha. Only person that's gonna miss you is the cleaner. Their workload's gonna drop by half now that you're leaving.” you retorted back, your tone taunting as you watched in your peritheral vision Fareeha's expressions twist and turn. You could see the gears turning in her mind, as she tried to figure out a way to bite back right now. Eventually, she put the contract under her arm and walked towards the door. She had given up, you assumed, as she remained silent as she opened it slightly. Fareeha paused, looking over her shoulder back to you with a gaut smirk plastered on her face.

"Maybe the cleaner won’t miss me, but I’m pretty sure you will. Who else is going to give you all this attention?"

[ovwechoes]

Historical AU with Gency/Mercy x Genji IB: Rennaisance (Blake 7's Zine) & 'Interior with a Man Reading a Letter and a Woman Sewing' by Pieter de Hooch Themes: historical, renaissance era, unofficial relationship, valet/second-hand genji, servant/seamstress angela, mutual pining, flirting, dialogue heavy. Word count: 2277

It was late at night, with Angela's ears filled with the muffled music that played above her. Regardless of the Archdutchess O'Deorian's nightly festivities, she knew she had a job to do, and was intent on completing it without distractions. So, she continued focusing on her stitches, as she held the fabric on her lap and tuned into the melodic synthonies and the crackling of the fireplace that warmed her just enough.

Her hair was tied back into a hair nest, with a taped method keeping it together using a golden ribbon. Angela's hair was slightly frayed, with small pieces falling from it and emphasising truly how long she had already worked that night. And yet, she continued to as the orchestra began to play one of her favourite pieces - The Shoemaker's Wife, A Toy, P 58.

Angela continued working as the dampened music played on, with her hums in line with the melody. Something about this tune always made her mind race with fascination, and she couldn't stop herself from letting herself enjoy it to fulfilment. She was alone in this room right now, and her confidence had soared enough to indulge in this sweet, small pleasure.

Her hums slowly filled her mind and the room, with her shamelessly finding herself working at a faster and more focused pace. Angela's eyes were fixated on the piece, as her hair sculpted her face perfectly in the dim lighting of the fireplace. It crackled along with her, as the wooden slabs burned with what could be described as only delight. It was a breathtaking scene for her, as she found herself relaxing and easing more into her work. Once Angela was in the zone, it was almost impossible to bring her out of it or notice her surroundings - something the Archduke had scolded her for countless times, and yet never changed.

That's why, when the second hand for the Viscount stood in the doorway of the room, Angela never noticed. He had grown accustomed to her attention being needle point and slim - one task at a time was enough to enamour her with delight, he found out quickly through their friendship. But he just had to let her continue, and drink the view he was blessed with in this moment. The orange lighting hitting her pale skin, with her slender hands working attentively at the fabric in her lap; it was all so beautiful to him, and yet he would never tell her this. Simply, he thought it would be better to let her continue, and let himself photograph this moment in his mind for the future. So, he stood there with a smile on his face, until he determined enough time had passed.

‘Ahem’ he exclaimed, clearing his throat and grabbing the attention of the unexpecting woman infront of him. He was leaned against the doorframe now, with his arms crossed against his chest. Angela was left in a state of panic for a moment, her mind scattered as her body jumped at his sudden action. She should be used to this by now, and yet she wasn't. She never truly hated this, though, and found herself growing more fond of his antic with time.

Angela's eyes scattered across the room, before meeting his whilst she remained on her stool. All she could focus on was her beathing right now, as she calculated exactly what to say to the man infront of her, who had tormented her poor heart. A smile had started to stain her cheeks, as her free hand held her chest lightly.

“Pray, how many times must I bid thee cease this mischief, for thou dost startle me too much?” Angela stated, her humour sprinkled through each sentance. Her gaze was attentive on the man infront of her, who now was stood chuckling at her words with delight.

"Ah, but where would the fun be, sweet friend, if I did not give thee a little fright now and then?" He responded, his throat raspy and with a giggle interlaced with every other word. How he loved moments like this - simple in nature, and yet naturally easy to navigate with Angela. That's something he silently adored about her, and yet would never utter to her directly. For him, this was something to keep close to his heart. To quietly feel his heart grow more fond over.

Angela shook her head with a smile in response, before moving her attention back to her work. As much as she would love to indulge in this conversation, she knew she couldn't. He wasn't worth the wrath of her Archdutches.

"I would dearly love to engage in further conversation," she began, her smile remaining and her tone sarcastic to the man's ears, “but at this time, I must attend to other matters.” Angela sighed as she spoke, her tone disappating slightly the more her words fell from her lips. She felt herself sit there for a moment, her needle steady and yet motionless. It was as though her body was subconsciously waiting for a response from him, as though she couldn't continue in good faith without his reassurance. It was dreadful to her, but her heart wouldn't have it either way.

"Yet, if thou wishest, thou mayst take a seat and wait—my work shall not detain me for much longer, I hope." Angela found herself saying, her eyes drifting towards the second hand's shoes. Silence surrounded them as she began analysing his outfit more, waiting for his response.

His shoes were neat, polished, pristine. As always, she had noticed. As her eyes drifted upwards, she noticed his attire was… more formal than usual. Angela had seen him in every outfit by now - he often visited her when he could, with his Viscount and her Archdutchess having connections to one another. She had seen him in his farming, coach and travel, and butler attire. But never had she seen him so proper. It was jarring for her, as she sat on her stool in her ordinary clothes - a simple dress that covered her almost completely, with an apron that had now become stained with dyes from fabrics, with her basket of tools sat beside her. It was as though they were opposites right now, and she felt herself shrink into her appearance at that realisation.

As she watched him, he began to move from his position and bring himself closer, as he breathed softly in tune with the fireplace that continued to crack.

"Ha! Those words I've heard before, good friend. But while thou workest, pray look upon what I've brought..." He responded, with Angela's eyes shooting him daggers as he moved. She was used to his biting tongue, and always made sure to match it perfectly in these moments.

"Peace, peace! Show me this treasure before thy tongue runs further, Shimada."

As her mind stirred for a response, she watched him begin to move quicker to his ‘claimed’ seat - a stool that rests beside the fireplace, in safe keepings for him to use when he visits. Angela had managed to convince one of the butlers to let her use it, as a spare, ‘just incase’. Though, she refuses to admit this to the man that now found himself sat infront of her, rummaging through his pockets.

Angela would've used this time wisely; to continue her work without his interuptions. But, her curiosity was eating at her mind. It was as though it had infected her, and she couldn't bring herself away from the man sat infront of her right now. How easily she could be brought to this point was worthy of being studied, she thought, as she watched him continue looking for this something with her hands idle.

It was as though a bulb had lit in his mind, as his hands stopped frantically searching and finally found the piece of paper he desperately wanted for this moment. A smile grew on his face, as he positioned himself forward and brought out what appeared to be a piece of paper that had been folded over, and over again. Angela's eyes were fixated on it, as Shimada unwrapped it in his hands, smile remaining and his eyes glinting with something.

"'Tis Master Shimada now, mark thee!" he began, as his hands had finally unfolded the paper fully. Angela noticed it was a letter, and her eyes remained attentive to him as he breathed in deeply, preparing to read it. Confusion had began to unwind in her at his words, but by the look on the second hand's face, her questions would soon be answered now.

“To my most trusted servant and steadfast companion, Genji Shimada,” he began, briefly looking up to Angela to make sure she was paying attention, before carrying on.

“It is with great pleasure and deepest consideration that I, Viscount Jack Morrison of Watchsworth, do hereby elevate thee to the position of Master Steward of mine household and estates.” he continued, his excitement shining through his words as he spoke. Angela gasped, her hands moving to her mouth and holding herself in that moment. They concealed a bright smile underneath, with her eyes wide and pressing to learn more from Genji. It took all her strength not to interrupt him, and to let him continue reading this bountiful letter.

“Thy years of unwavering loyalty, keen wit, and distinguished service have proven thee worthy beyond measure. Not only hast thou shown exceptional skill in matters of estate management and accounts, but thy swift thinking saved our household from ruin during last autumn's grain shortage. Thy diplomatic handling of the merchant guilds' disputes hath brought honor to our name, and thy discretion in all matters, both great and small, hath earned thee this title ten times over.”

“My heart soars to see thy worth so rightly acknowledged at last-”

"Oh, come now! Just a moment of hush, if you please! I promise the best part is still to come!" he hushed, as he let the moment stir a moment. His heart raced at her quick appreciation and admiration for him, but he had to continue. There was more to share, and he was sure she would be shocked to hear everything else in this letter.

"Therefore, from this day forth, thou shalt be known as Master Shimada, with all rights and privileges thereof. Thy new chambers shall be prepared in the east wing, and thy yearly stipend shall be increased accordingly.I trust thou shalt continue to serve with the same excellence that hath marked thy tenure thus far.

Given under mine own hand and seal, This twenty-fifth day of April, in the Year of Our Lord 1678.Jack Morrison Viscount of Watchsworth

Post scriptum: Genji, my friend, I expect thou art reading this with that subtle smile of thine. Come see me in my study when thou art done showing off to whoever thou art reading this to – we have much to discuss over that bottle of French wine thou art so fond of."

He carefully read the rest, and finally lowered the letter and looked back up to Angela. Her hands were laid across her chest now, with her smile beaming across from him. How her happiness was emphasised by the glow from the fireplace had Genji in a trance, as he observed her reaction completely.

Before he could respond though, she began to place her work to the side, and moved her hands ontop of his. Angela rested them there for a moment, bringing Genji closer to her physically in that moment. Her heart raced at the contact, with her mind clouding and her judgement telling her to do more, show how pleased she is further. And yet, she could only bring herself this far, with Genji's cheeks deepening into a shade of crimson at her actions. Finally, the outfit made sense, and his intrusion at this late hour when the Archdutchess' party carried on upstairs was justified.

Genji's heart thumped with delight, as his mind wandered through the possibilities of what she could say. When he received this letter, all he wanted to do was show her, see her reaction, and engulf himself in the warmth of her praise. Throughout all of his endevours with the Viscount, he had always brought himself back to her comforting, accepting and helpful presence. It finally paid off, and he wanted nothing more but to stay in this moment with her and let himself imagine what could be…

"Thou hast earned this triumph, and I am filled with joy at thy success!" she began, as she watched the blush continue to grow on Genji's cheeks.

"Truly, thou art most deserving of this honor. My heart doth rejoice to share in this blessed moment with thee—thank thee for letting me partake in thy happiness." she smiled as she spoke, the hands holding his squeezing them gently with her words. It was grounding for Genji, and brought him back from his imagination and straight to her. The emotions were overwhelming in this moment, as he felt his eyes water slightly, and his heart pound ferociously in his chest.

He smiled warmly back to her, moving his hands to hold hers in return and squeezing them just as much. Even though they were calloused, Angela found herself desperate to keep his hands there, to refuse to let them leave for a reason unbeknownst to her. And Genji found himself thankful he had chosen her as the first person to share the good news with, as they lingered in this moment of joy with their feelings growing slowly, steadily and silently for one another.

[ovwechoes]

work has been so hectic ill have today's fluffvember up tonight i pinky promise :cc

[ovwechoes]

Hurt/Comfort with Lucio x Reader Themes: isolation, comfort, established relationship, living together, gn reader, drabble. Word count: 946

You sat with your back against the door, waiting for Lucio's response to finally chime through. It had been 5 minutes since you last uttered words that left him silent, and you felt your heart grow heavier with each passing second. You were helpless there, as you sat and considered your next steps.

Lucio had been stressed recently - something he would usually always come to you about. Communication between the two of you had always been strong, with the two of you never hiding things that were weighing your shoulders down. Or, so you thought. But with how Lucio was reluctant to speak, tell you how he felt, or even let you into his now locked room, you felt your confidence in the two of you's communication shake. It was unbearable, really, as you were left with silence and the cold wood of his door pressed against your spine.

You rested your head against the door now, and closed your eyes as you felt the overwhelming anxiety and hopelessness grate over your body. You've never seen him like this, and frankly you didn't know what to do about it. In your mind, you were looping endlessly with what could be causing him this much pain. If you could, you'd take it all away from him - it's the least you could do when it's causing him so much internal grief.

On the other side of the door, Lucio sat in his chair with his head in his hands on his desk. His damp hands holding himself over his eyes, as he stiffled sobs and cries from you. This was something he had to face alone, and couldn't bare to bring you into this too. The thought of dragging you down with him, it was worth than death to him. All he wanted was for you to leave, so he could get this over with and move on whatever the cost. Lucio refused to bring you into this and stain your mind with the thoughts that clouded them constantly now.

It all started after that one mission - he had to witness something unbearable. Something he couldn't have ever imagined, and now his mind was smeared with the images as though they were wine stains in an ivory carpet. Lucio knew you would grow concerned for his work if he talked about it, and knew how much pain it would cause you to know this was happening but there was nothing you could do. Truthfully, and otherwise, he would run to you and ask you to hold him as he cried his pain away. But this time, he couldn't bring himself to. This was something he couldn't bare on your shoulders - only his alone, to him.

“If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay.” you stated loudly, breaking his thoughts and drawing him back to you. “But I'm not leaving you. I'm staying right here, so when you're ready, you can come to me.” you continued, as Lucio heard you shuffle against the wood and get yourself comfortable.

How his heart broke at his words from both love and fear. Lucio held himself back from accepting your offer, as he stayed in his chair but brought his hands away from his face. He stared at the door intently, watching your shadow through the low crack of the door as it shifted and stirred. He considered for a moment what to say, before deciding that words wouldn't do anything to help him, or you.

You listened with your eyes closed again, your head rested against the door. You wanted to hear any signs of life, any signs that he was okay besides the occassional sniffle and shaky breath he let out. But, you never expected to hear him move out of his desk with a click of it's joints. You stayed quiet, ensuring you didn't scare him off from whatever he was planning.

Lucio stood up, and walked slowly on the carpet of his office towards the door. His room was dark enough to see your shadow remain still, but light enough that he could find his way confidently. He stood for a moment, hands at his side as his body trembled for a moment. Lucio considered unlocking the door, letting you in and letting you mend him. But he couldn't do that - not just yet.

His body lowered slowly to the floor, with your ears picking up on this intentively. You could hear his body shuffle, before feeling resistance against your back from the door. You could only assume he was sat against it too, head and spine against yours too. It was oddly comforting, feeling him like this through the wood. But you remained silent, refusing to let a single wrongly worded sentance push him away. Instead, you gave him full control of the situation. You trusted him, even with your stirred confidence. All he had to do was take his time, you thought as you let him get comfortable against his wooden door.

Silence lingered for a moment. You grew used to it now, as both your breathing was in sync now. Your hearts beat together, your minds stirred together. It felt as though the two of you were truly connected, even with the door obstructing any actual touch. The two of you sat there silent, with the only noises that filled the air being his stiffled sniffles and wipes of his tears on his sleeve. Lucio deeply inhaled, his breath shaky, as you sensed he was going to finally say something. Your ears perked up, ready and willing to listen.

“Thank you… But just knowing you’re here, that’s more than enough for me. You’re always the light in my day, y’know?”

[ovwechoes]

Sickness with Baptiste x Cassidy Themes: sick/hurt, established relationship, mlm, comfort, dialogue heavy Word count: 899

“Stop movin' already, you're making this impossible.” Cassidy exclaimed, as his hand pulled back from Baptiste. The water-soaked towel in his hand was steady, as it slowly dripped across his hand, and down his hair-adorned arm. Baptiste stared above, observing anything but the stern look on his partner's face as he started rolling his eyes.

“Don't even consider it.” Cassidy quickly retorted, making Baptiste swiftly turn his gaze to his partner. If he could, and if it didn't hurt as much as it did, he would've let himself chuckle at Cassidy's words. They were oddly still comforting though, with his voice and tone.

Baptiste continued to lie there as he grunted in an agreeable manner. He knew just as well that he had to be still, had to for the sake of his health. Of course he had to be the one to catch an illness whilst on holiday, and of course his trusted doctor Angela couldn't make it in time to help him. Just his luck, after all. All he could do was accept the help from his partner and guide him with advice (when his voice wasn't hoarse and too painful to speak with). He tried his hardest to tolerate it, but a part of him couldn't settle - was it the fever, or the vulnerability? He didn't care to figure it out as he watched Cassidy bring the towel back down to his head.

“You still nauseous?” Cassidy asked in a much less agitated tone compared to before. His expression had shifted, too. It had become softer, Baptiste noticed, as his eyes drifted towards him and his hand moving towards his forehead.

“Not really…” Baptiste replied, watching his expression twist and turn to that of a more… concerned look. His voice was soft, croak-y still but legible as Cassidy considered his next response.

Cassidy's hand hesitated as he began to stutter his words. “You sure…? Y' don't have to hide it from me, Jean.” he uttered softly. Baptiste could see his eyes were drifting towards the bucket that lay next to the bed. Freshly clean, freshly ready for if his suspicions were correct. One of the many joys of caring for someone, Baptiste had reminded him before when Cassidy complained of this role.

“Very sure. I'm past that stage - just need to get my fever and throat pain fixed.” Baptiste replied, “You can handle that, surely.”

A smirk grew on Baptiste face as he uttered those last words, as Cassidy chuckled lightly. His hands had finally returned to work, and started dabbing at Baptiste's forehead lightly. It was cooled down now, enough to give him some relief from his spiked temperature.

“Sure I can, just gotta trust me hon'.” he uttered, as he continued working on his partner. Cassidy had finally gotten the hang of this and found himself relishing Baptiste's state for a moment. Baptiste's face stirred at his words, finding himself conflicted. 

He hated being sick. It was always Baptiste taking care of people - he had done so his whole life. So, when he was sick himself, it was troublesome for his mind and soul. Baptiste doesn't give up control easily; the idea of being vulnerable infront of someone, whilst being powerless to their care, is frightening to him. So, as Cassidy sat above him, he couldn't help but feel himself trying to keep grasp of the situation. He trusted him, truly, but it was uncontrollable for him.

Baptiste inhaled deeply, his throat raspy. “You know, you don't have to do this…” he began, “I'll be fine, and I don't want you getting si-”

“Shush. I'm not g'nna leave you like this.” Cassidy replied, his tone light hearted with a smile stained on his face. Baptiste sighed in response, letting himself relax in the bed and slowly give up trying to come up with a retort, or a statement, or anything that might give him control again over this situation. He didn't have the energy to fight more, as he felt his fatigue overwhelm his body now.

Cassidy sat by his side and watched him drift off - it happened often enough now that he wasn't concerned, just remained steady in his mind. Panicking over anything small wouldn't help either of them, he thought, as he brought his hand back and rested it gently in his lap. Soon enough, he could hear Baptiste's croak-y snores fill the room, with his body rising and falling in time with Cassidy's own breathing. It was as though they were in sync now, as Cassidy let his mind wander.

Something about finally being able to take care of the man who vigilantly always looked out for him was satisfying to Cassidy. He never expected their holiday to turn out like this; no one ever thinks that they'll be trusted with taking care of someone who hates to be sick. But he still loved it. Truthfully, deep down, he was thankful for this moment. Baptiste finally showed him that he trusted Cassidy enough to take care of him, put up with his groggy attitude, and make sure he was okay and safe. The responsibility lay heavy on his heart, but he wouldn't trade it for a moment.

“Besides, if I got sick I know you'd take care of me. J's let me take care of you now, darlin'.” Cassidy practically whispered, as he refused to leave Baptiste's side through his rest. 

[ovwechoes]

Exes to Lovers with Ashe x Reader Themes: gn reader, love/hate, rival gangs, mutual pining, au, imagines, drunk confession. Word count: 981

Imagine Ashe watching you from the other side of the road. She's just passing through with her gang, when she finds herself fixated on you. Your outfit clad with silver spikes, buckles, zippers, leather, and chains. She can't help but feel as though you've stolen her style - and yet, she takes it as a badge of honour. 

Imagine Ashe letting your gang watch her body pass by, uttering words into your ears about your ex and how she ‘left something good behind’ and how ‘you’re better off without her'. And yet, you can't help but chuckle to yourself as you remember how the night before went. How their gruelling insults would change if they knew how different the situation could possibly be.

Imagine how smug you would stand, arms crossed as you watched her carefully walk across your gaze. The road seperated the two of you, and yet you still felt blessed with this view of her. Your face was stoic, refusing to expose your feelings for your ex, and yet deep down you couldn't stop recounting how she tasted on your lips the night before, how comfortable she was as she lay in your bed. You recounted her softest moments that night as she walked with a venomous smile curling on her face, with her stride confident and bold.

Imagine her gang watching you just the same, and yet they don't utter a word to their leader. You're far too aware that if a single word were uttered about you, Ashe wouldn't hesitate to punish them properly; she can't help but stick by your side regardless of your position in her life. She may not show you grace to your face, when her gang members linger off her shoulders and hang by every word that slips from her mouth, but Ashe has always been too defensive with her loved ones. 

Imagine the relationship before didn't end sour - it was simply because you two were too busy, too enamoured with your times apart. You had been amicable, but abided to Ashe's advice to emphasise the intensity of the break-up. After all, they couldn't know that there was a door left open for the future - a door the two of you had stepped through once again when the time was right. There's too much at stake, she explained that night.

Imagine Ashe being the one to ignite the spark between the two of you. She had turned up to your door a year later - drunk, slurring her words and demanding to enter your home. You couldn't help but chuckle to yourself, as you abided to her. It wasn't unexpected for her to be like this, you had seen your fair share of her stumbling over herself, planting herself in her spot on your sofa, and watching you meet her there. But what you never expected was that she wanted to be with you again. She missed you, she said, as she continued watching your expressions for any sign of rejection. Ashe will always hold her cards close to her, refusing to expose herself to others, but once she's had enough to drink it's as though she completely forgets to.

Imagine yourself sat beside her, truthfully expecting her to be just saying it because she's lonely. You look at her, evaluate if this is actually what's happening, or if she's seeking your warmth on a cold and isolating night. When you see a slither of a tear leave her eye, and sit itself on her waterline, you realise she's being honest. You sit with your own feelings as you let her speak, let her sober up and realise what she's doing. When she's finally done, you tell her you'll speak to her in the morning, with her crashing on your sofa in response. 

Imagine that morning, as you're nursing her back to health from her hangover and explain what she said her face grows more tiresome. She looks frustrated with herself, as you utter her confession. It's as though she never wanted to tell you, refusing to be the first to embarrass herself with something so juvenial. To her, nothing is more degrading than confessing your feelings to someone, especially your ex. And yet, you couldn't help but feel relief swarm your body as you explained you felt the same way. That no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't imagine being with someone else. No one matched her energy, her competence, and her love for you. All you wanted was for her to come back, for her to love you like before. 

Imagine Ashe agreeing, after a lengthy conversation as she sat on your sofa ‘resting her eyes’ with a glass of water in her hands. You didn't want to lose her again, so that was your one condition. Ashe's one condition was to keep it a secret, for now until she was ready. You agreed - better than nothing, right? That's what you thought to yourself as you felt her move closer and closer to you slowly, before finding her laying on your lap and with your hands returning to her hair. Not often would she be like this - the only times when she was sick, hungover or comfortable enough to be vulnerable. You couldn't tell which was the case, and yet you refused to question it as silver strands interloped with your fingers and you rubbed her head soothingly.

Imagine now, holding your relationship close to your chest. You two had worked hard at first to figure things out, stop things from getting to how they were last time. It was finally paying off, with your time at night spent adorning one another. Patience was a virtue, and you were sure that this time things would surely be better. After all, you had your own lives, own gangs, and own space. What could go wrong?

[ovwechoes]

Fake Dating with Widowmaker x Sombra Themes: fake relationship, one-sided pining, date night, wlw, Amelie diary/journal pov. Word count: 757

August 20th 11PM Talon had us on another mission - monitoring, nothing important but we had to be another fake couple. I still don't understand why Akande couldn't have just let Olivia watch through the cameras, but I can't complain. Especially when I was able to go with her.

I've never enjoyed these types of missions - usually, and in the past, I've been with Gabriel. He's nothing short of boring and helpless when it comes to pretending we're dating, and I think he knows this too. Nothing short of pathetic. I much prefer doing these missions with Olivia, but that preference is small when it's just for work.

I helped her book the table, of course. She's never been there, and was eager to get us the perfect seat. Her face was so… cute? Is that the right word? I don't know, and I don't understand why I'm asking myself this as though I'll know the right answer. But anyways, I digress. Olivia was very attentive, and made sure I was happy with everything she ‘booked’ (could you even call it that when she's hacking into their systems?). It was strange, really. Not in a bad way, of course, but I'm not used to it. It makes me feel warm deep down to look back on and remember. The time she took to make sure our mission suited both of us, not just her, was admirable, and I can't help but still have her concentrated face stuck in my mind hours after our mission.

The night of the mission was truly indescribable. I always wear a similar dress - something I would wear if I was going on a date anyways, for authenticity obviously. My long, satin and backless dress with ruffles adorning it. A deep red colour, with silver jewellery to match. I have good tastes, if I do say so myself, and Olivia's reaction told me that too. She turned up in something different - a black, tight, corset-esk waistcoat with a long-sleeved white dress shirt underneath. Over her arm was her coat, with her legs covered with a knee-length pencil skirt and opaque tights. Olivia always has excellent taste in shoes, too, so of course they were pointed toe ankle boots that shone under the streetlamps.

Seeing her like this struck something in me - I can't explain it, but my heart felt as though it was moving again, beating in my chest without warning. I could feel warmth spread on my cheeks as I walked towards her, meeting her at the restaurant's front door. I'm not familiar with it, and yet I'm not upset about it either.

The date was interesting, to say the least. I do not remember most of what happened, barring the most important details. We succeeded with our task, reported back to Akande with what we observed and found, end of story. But I can remember everything about her. 

I remember her lipstick staining the glass she sipped out of; a tequila sunrise she had ordered. Ruby red marks left on her cup with her hand curled around it. I couldn't help but watch the stain as she looked onwards across the room, from the stage to our table, and then to our target. I wish I was more focused, but I couldn't help but stare with a fascination I can't describe. Her nails were shining in the lights above us. A deep, crimson colour with some iridescent accents scattered across them. Rarely does she dress herself up like this, and pay her nails any attention but this time she did. Part of me entertains the idea that it was for me, for our ‘date’, and yet part of me knows it was purely for the act. It's confusing, but I won't let myself become delusional over an assumption.

She had a smirk on her face too, most of the night. I couldn't quite place why, but I noticed that every time her gaze passed to me it would grow slightly in the corner of her mouth. I wish I could have photographed her in this moment; her leaning forwards, leaning on her arm, watching the room with a smile on her face and her lips curled so beautifully. Olivia truly looked beautiful, and I wish I could tell her this myself.

The mission was tiresome, and yet her presence made it worthwhile. There isn't anything else important to note - if I feel the need to add anything further to this, I will. 

But otherwise - À la prochain, Amelie.

[ovwechoes]

hi, this might be a unique hc, but can you do transfem lúcio x transmasc junkrat headcanons? they have my heart right now <3

Rivalmance with Junkrat x Lucio Thank you for the ask! I've included in this the transfem and transmasc parts into the drabble (i didnt want to do headcanons sadly), and I hope you enjoy it c: Themes: rivals to lovers, t4t, established relationship, sfw, needles mentioned. Word count: 584

Imagine Jamison and Lucio helping each other with their shots, taking their precious time to make sure the other isn't subjected to too much pain, too quickly. At first, they'd never have trusted one another with this task - it's too important, too invasive. Lucio didn't want to risk Jamison's jittery hands slipping whilst the sharp, precise needle was deep into their skin. How would someone who couldn't sit still for more than a minute be able to handle being steady with something like this?

And yet when Jamison was entrusted for the first time with the job, they were shocked themselves. Lucio was frustrated with themselves, as they held the fat of their stomach out with the needle shaking slightly. It was an off day for them - simply put, nothing that day went right. So, of course this had to as well in Lucio's mind, and they couldn't handle it any longer. Jamison had walked in to see their partner overwhelmed, overstimulated, and cursing slightly under their breath as the needle was discarded to the side of them. It was only natural for Jamison to offer some help, and let Lucio know they weren't alone with this.

When the time finally came, Jamison's actions spoke volumes to their love and consideration for Lucio. Not once did the needle shake, with their focus precise and narrow on the task at hand. They showed Lucio a side of them that had never been seen before - one that could show concern with whinces, express support with every ‘are you sure you’re okay with this?' from their partner. It made Lucio's heart beat quickly, reminding them that Jamison was no longer their enemy nor someone they had to baby through everything. Jamison was capable of being there for them when needed, and it reminded Lucio that they don't have to do everything alone simply because their mind has leftover opinions on the usually jittery, nervous person.

Or, imagine Lucio and Jamison planning their outfits together for date night. But, Jamison's scars that adorn their chest are making them feel more insecure, causing them to completely refuse to leave their apartment that night. It broke Lucio's heart to see them this way, as though they couldn't see truly how beautiful Lucio thought they were in anything, and everything.

Simple troubleshooting couldn't solve the problem, because Jamison always had a different rebuttle to Lucio's advice. It drove them insane, bringing them back to that time that Lucio couldn't handle Jamison just for a split second. After that, they had to remind themselves that they know it's not this easy, that it's not as simple as just ‘put something else on’. It's much deeper, and all they can do right now is comfort the person sitting on the edge of their bed with their head in their hands. 

Soothing, gentle circles rubbed into their back whilst words of comfort flowed from their lips was sure to help Jamison. As Lucio reminded them that they're beautiful, their scars just show they've had a life journey that's brought them happiness, and that no matter what they're here for them (when they're ready). It definitely brings a redness to Lucio's cheeks, reminding them of how embarrassing it can be to use your words to uplift someone else. But they'd do it again over, and over, and over. If it meant that their partner could look proudly in the mirror and see how handsome they are, it's completely worth it to Lucio.

[ovwechoes]

hello i love love love ur writing sm like omg it’s absolutely godly, anywho i was wondering if you could do zenyatta x fem! s/o (can be sfw or nsfw, just desperate for zen content)

Secret Identity with Zenyatta x Reader Thank you for the request anon! It's under the cut, and I hope you enjoy it c: Themes: gn reader, unestablished relationship, hidden feelings, enemy! reader, healing. Word count: 1437

As you staggered towards the doors of the monastary, your mind was already conjuring your newest excuse. You always had to, to keep your identity safe from your supposed ‘enemy’. A part of you wished you could be honest, open with the monk that stayed behind the closed door infront of you. But how would you explain that your injuries were, and always had been, from your missions with Talon? How would you cope with losing his caring touch because of your job? Maybe he would understand, but you couldn't risk that.

And so, you eventually found yourself infront of the familiar door. Cracks were building into the wood, reminding you of it's fragility as you now held your arm in a desperate attempt to comfort yourself. The pain was growing more unbearable, as your body's strength was being spent rapidly. Your eyes were lidden fast, with your vision blurring as you held a fist to it's familiar spot against the door. One, two, three knocks were enough to bring attention to you. You hoped, prayed even, that the omnic behind it would cure your ills as you felt your mind grow blank. As the door creaked open, you watched your vision go black and your mind succumb to the pain with your body dropping to the cold, cobble ground beneath you.

Suddenly, you awoke to the comforting feeling of metal against your skin. Your body had sunk into the linen bedding that lay underneath you, supporting your weight as your eyes fluttered open. Your vision still blurred, still unable to make out which monk was tasked with healing your wounds this time. But your body already knew, by the way it never jumped when the cold metallic fingers touched your wounds in their own methodical, precise manner. You stayed still as you met your mind catch up with itself - something you had to do every time you found yourself in this position.

“Welcome back.” the omnic above you hummed, his voice vibrating through his constructed vocal chords. Your ears took no time with figuring out who was tending to you, analysing the way their phrase was melodic in tone and soothing to hear.

You couldn't bring yourself to reply, letting the omnic focus on your body instead of idle chat. It was easier this way; it allowed you to hide your excuse for longer, and keep yourself clean of the guilt of lying to someone you valued deeply. It was for the best, you always told yourself, and so your chosen silence was necessary right now. And it seemed the omnic had noticed by now.

“Ah, silence can be a powerful form of communication.” the omnic spoke, as you closed your eyes. You prepared your mind for his words, refusing to give up on the comfort of avoiding speaking right now. You listened as he paused, his fans humming gently and his hands presumably moving to more of his anasthetic oitments and balms. You knew him too well by now, and were ready to be treated as you always had been. The omnic's fans increased as he mimicked an inhale, before continuing.

“Please, take your time to find your words. I am here to listen.” he murmured softly, letting his words sink into your ears and ease you into peaceful bliss. He had a special way of calming you, trusting you to do what you needed right now. You kept your eyes closed instinctively - were you avoiding the conversation, or simply too scared to lie to the omnic that you had grown so familiar with by now? You didn't know, and you didn't want to find out either.

You lay softly as you let him continue working on your wounds. With every step of his care, you found yourself drifting into the past. You couldn't help but be reminded of your first encounter with him by how steady his hands were as he massaged the numbing balm into your skin. You had met him by mistake of course, and learned of his name that night as he stitched your knife wounds without further questioning. Zenyatta, he told you was what he called himself, and he encouraged you to learn that name and rely on him in the future. That's where your connection to him started, and your mind replayed the moments spent together from there onwards as he continued healing your ills.

But suddenly, sharply, you jolted from the pain of the antisceptic ointment meeting the open wound laying on your ribcage. Eyes widening, you finally looked onwards with your heart pounding in your chest. It brought you back to reality as though the pain pulled you from the nostalgia back here, underneath the omnic and at his whim. It reminded you of how far you had come with Zenyatta, how much you relied on his care and yet how painful the process was each and every time. Your body jumped upwards, sitting up in response to the stinging pain that seeped into you seemingly endlessly. Zenyatta was quick to move his hand to your stomach, holding it there gently as he met your stare.

“Your pain is but a moment, and it does not define you.” he began, his voice medolic and instrumental to calming your racing heart. You let yourself enjoy the comforting, cold feeling of his metal hand holding your bare stomach as you let him continue.

“Breathe deeply; I am here to help you find your strength.” Zenyatta said, as his hand remained firm against your body. You felt yourself calming, doing as instructed and breathing heavily and shakily in, and out. Over and over. He mimicked this too, making sure to never leave you behind nor alone. He may not be human, but he will always make sure that you feel united in these moments however he could.

Zenyatta watched carefully as you breathed, your mind slowing and the pain dulling with each passing breath. You watched him analyse your state, ensuring you were ready to continue. A simple nod from you was enough for his hand to push you back down against the bed firmly, but gently. His hand moved slowly down your stomach, leaving you with goosebumps as though your body anticipated this, and maybe more, before moving back to the oitnment that had inflicted you.

Your skin missed his touch quickly, as your eyes stayed open this time and watched the ceiling above you. It was wooden, decorated with fabric that adorned symbols, colours and messages for the monks. No one ever talks about how beautiful the monastary is, you thought, as you mentally prepared yourself for the stinging pain to return.

But, it ceased to return. The omnic above you was seemingly still, never meeting your skin with their fingers covered in ointment again. You were left to watch the ceiling above you, with the anticipating lingering within your mind and stirring your anxiety even more. It was suffocating, laying there with nothing to see of the omnic, and so you couldn't stop yourself from sitting up and seeing exactly what he was still and silent for.

When you did, you were met with him looking up from his hands, faceplate meeting your stare as you were left on the spot by him. You finally noticed what was in his hands, and your heart sunk - it was your ID badge for Talon's headquarters. You must've left it in your pocket, you thought, as you felt your mind cloud with fear and worry. You had been caught by him, and were left with him staring at you as his oily hands held the card in his lap.

“Zen, I can explain-”

“There is no need. I'm in no place to judge the walks of life you have come from, but I would have appreciated honesty, first and foremost.” He interrupted, refusing to let you continue as his words created more guilt within yourself. You had to sit with this, and let him process this for a mere moment. It ate you alive now, and you didn't know what to do.

“Does this change anything? You know, between us?” you asked.

“No, it does not.” he replied. His tone was less melodic, and he turned away as he spoke to obscure himself from you. Zenyatta was always understanding, but a part of you felt that this might be too much, now. He mimicked another inhale, before continuing to speak to you.

"I see the truth now, though it brings a weight to my heart. You are caught in shadows, yet my feelings for you remain unshaken."