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nitewrighter · 1 year

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can we get some symmarah to celebrate?

Ooh! Good idea!

Now the question is, is this me filling in a vital point in their relationship as part of my fic continuity timeline (because god they're basically moved in together by the time Hanzo comes on the watchpoint)? Or just a U-Haul Lesbian joke? You decide!!!

---

"It's efficient," Pharah was sitting across from Cassidy in the Watchpoint mess hall, "It would free up the dormitories more for agents who don't permanently live on the watchpoint, and it would be a lot more comfortable for her, and I feel like it would be a better use of my apartment space."

"Right, because this is about efficiency," Cassidy sipped his coffee.

Pharah gave him a flat, furrowed brow look. "Satya's done a lot to patch the whole watchpoint up. I mean it's honestly crazy how much more livable it is--on a scale level. And that frees up the other admin apartment for you."

"Eh, I'd just trash the place, and you know I ain't got enough shit to fill it."

"Cole, that answer is way more depressing than you think it is."

Cassidy just shrugged. "You know this is weird, right? He thumbed the brim of his hat up slightly.

"What's weird?"

"You two have been bunking up for a good while now, and now you feel like you need to make some kind of... strategic, legal case for asking her to move in with ya. I'm pretty sure she has her own toothbrush at your place already."

"It's a big deal," said Pharah, firmly.

"We're squatters. Vigilantes on a big crazy rocket launch site or not, it's not like you're pulling her into a lease agreement. Plus, between all the missions and the personal shit people got going on, there's a reason why only a few of us have really permanently shacked up here."

"It's a big deal on a personal level. I don't want to freak her out."

"Oh, and nearly dying on missions all the time isn't freaky."

"Cole--" Pharah huffed and pressed her fingers to her forehead, "You don't get it. My mother... like, you know she was never good at the work-life balance."

"...pretty sure that last sentence you just said sums up about 86% of our conversations we had when you were a kid."

"So sue me for not wanting to make the same mistakes!" she huffed and took a gulp of her water, "I like her, Cole."

"You love her."

Pharah leveled her eyes at him.

"I was there on that drone-rodeo mission, 'Reeha. I heard you. I know you're trying to hedge your bets, trying not to get hurt like you've seen your mom get hurt, trying not to hurt like your mom has hurt others, but you're also trying to walk that shit back to 'like' when you're talking about asking Satya to move in with you after you've had your big damn love confession and at this pretty much half the watchpoint has caught her on her 'morning walks' suspiciously near your apartment."

Pharah's ears were burning on Satya's behalf, but she was quiet at this, sullenly taking a few more bites of her food.

"You're the Canadian, ain't you?" said Cassidy, "'Miss 100% of the shots you don't take' and all that?"

"Don't quote Gretzky at me," Pharah muttered. She glanced off out the window, "It's easy to say 'I love you' when you think you're going to die, it's another thing to live together."

"Hey, speaking from experience, you don't need to worry about her getting pissed about you leaving your socks on the floor. She'll just vaporize them."

"...sounds like that's on you for leaving dirty socks around the dormitory."

"See? You're perfect for each other."

"Cole, be serious."

"You want me to be serious? Fine. I think the fact that you're worrying about this is already a good sign," said Cole, resting his elbows on the table and interlacing his fingers in front of himself, "But... you gotta be willing to put yourself out there. Maybe you do get hurt. But hell, I'd rather you love someone as much as you can love someone and get hurt, than lose what you have because you're scared of gettin' hurt."

She saw there was a particular crinkle in his brow that he tended to only get when they were both talking about Ana. Even when she was a teenager railing against Ana she knew how much Cole respected her mother, constantly referring back to her as 'The Captain.' With things slowly and clumsily being patched up with her mother, a part of Pharah felt a little guilty about basically demanding he put himself in opposition to someone he respected so much to maintain their friendship, but that was a different conversation. But that crinkle was directed at her now, and it gave her a sore twist of stress in her stomach.

You're already making your mother's mistakes by letting this paralyze you.

Pharah furrowed her brow at him for a few seconds, still sitting with that sore twinge, then thought of Satya and felt the back of her neck burning. She pursed her lips and drew a long breath in and out. "Fine--" she said, and then, "Fine," again, and then "Whatever," and then "Fine," once more, pushing herself up from her seat, picking up her lunch tray.

"You've got this, Amari."

"Fine," she said, walking away.

"Say 'fine' again," Cole called after her.

"Shut up, Cole."

----

The initial plan was to ask Satya after a romantic (spontaneous!) date. The date would proceed as such: casual shopping trip for odd necessities on Gibraltar that would end (spontaneously!) at a reasonably priced but well-liked restaurant with good vegetarian options (Pharah had staked out 3 in her research depending on where the shopping trip would take them) and then, on the drive home she would (casually!) ask the question and the conversation only had to last the duration of the (not too long, not too short) car ride, giving them both an easy out to immediately part once they got back to the Watchpoint if everything ended up going down in flames. It was foolproof. And... also not viable as she and Symmetra were called off on a mission.

I can do it when we get back, Pharah thought, Not a big deal.

It was Cairo, nothing high combat, more of a combination of security and humanitarian efforts, both their wheelhouses. Satya would be helping to expand and improve living conditions in the refugee camp, and Pharah would be conferring with her former Helix agents to discuss illegal weapons trafficking that had been occurring within the camp--really mostly an exchange of intel. No doubt Talon supplying local gangs to sow more fear and concordantly more chaos among already displaced people and the locals who resented their presence. Brigitte was there both as a medic and to assist with other utility repairs around the camp, and, Pharah guessed, to have eyes on the situation that weren't biased in favor of Helix. The murmurings about possible Talon moles had been there since Doomfist broke out of prison, Pharah tried not to take it personally. It was strange still identifying with Helix even though she had somewhat always mentally acknowledged it was the organization she chose because Overwatch wasn't an option to her. They had still been her team, she had still seen them fight and lose their lives alongside her against Anubis.

Helix had set up four cramped portable buildings at the center of the camp. Pharah remembered butting heads with Mercy over their placement back before they had answered the Recall. She couldn't exactly blame Mercy for being resentful of a well-armed security force after all her time in Overwatch and after everything had gone as wrong as it had, but on a logistics level given the circumstances, these plain, beige portables were a symbol of law, order, and safety for the camp. Or maybe she just always told herself that because Helix was the next best thing when Overwatch went down in flames. To be honest, with the work Satya was putting in, the portables were looking increasingly shabby.

She didn't recognize half of the Helix officers she was meeting with. They had heard of her, though. They always had, even since she had joined Helix. She was the daughter of the legendary Ana Amari, after all. But now she wasn't sure whether Cairo was becoming an increasingly undesirable site of assignment for Helix, or whether Helix was just starting to recognize that this was a problem you couldn't solve with guns and Raptora suits. Her replacement, Security Chief Kamran Zakaria, looked annoyingly young--she had been young, too, but she had worked her ass off to get where she had been, and watched her superior die. And his haircut was not regulation. How lax had Helix gotten without her?

"Hakim being out of the way has made a big difference. People are still muttering about that damn cat vigilante. Makes us look bad. Not a friend of yours, I hope?" Kamran was only wearing the leg armor of the Raptora suit, leaning against the accessibility rail that bordered one of the portable buildings. There was a permanent grimace on his face from the stench of the camp.

"Not that I know of," said Pharah. She had seen a few blurry photos of the 'Bastet' vigilante, knew the hood and the particular way she moved with her rifle well, but hadn't pushed Ana on the subject.

"Well, whoever dismantled his operation, we can already see the effects, and we've been acting on it. There was a power vacuum for a bit, loud, sloppy, easy to trace and deal with."

"And Talon?" said Pharah.

"The usual trickle of weapons I showed you, but the serial numbers and shipping containers we've found them with suggest they're bouncing through Algeria, the United States, definitely, and Germany. Doesn't seem to be the same concerted effort as previously, so I guess you guys must be doing something right."

Or it's no longer strategic, Pharah mused internally, but she just rolled her grip on the railing, No, take the wins where you can.

"So, what are Overwatch's plans for this?" Kamran gestured out at the refugee camp.

"We have contacts in the Adawe Foundation. We can get about 15 to 20 visas a month to for refugees here live and work in Numbani, depending on their skills and family. Teachers, doctors, and engineers are in high demand, especially."

"That's it?" said Kamran, "You know we've got people still coming in, right? And if there's another major Null Sector attack, this whole camp might just boil over."

Pharah crinkled her brow at Kamran. "You know we're operating without the jurisdiction or the resources of the UN. And we're trying to respect the operations of local governments as much as we can."

"Well yeah, but one more group with just guns running around is... one more group with guns running around. Thought you guys took up that old name for a reason."

Pharah furrowed her brow at him, ready to hit him with 'I'm sorry, how long have you had this position?' or 'I'm not the one having a cat vigilante do my job for me' but before she could speak there was an audible cheer rising from the camp.

"The hell is it now?" Kamran vaulted over the railing and Pharah hustled after him.

They hurried through the winding corridors of the camp towards the source of the noise, at one point, Pharah could see Brigitte repairing an old woman's walker, with a line of several people with cybernetics or mobility aids lining up behind her. Brigitte caught Kamran's eye, too, but he hurried on, towards the source of the noise. Pharah saw more and more bits of Satya's handiwork throughout the camp--Hard-light trashcans with solid lids to keep refuse from blowing around and reduce smells, and a large patch of dirt where children had previously been playing now flattened with a more shock-absorbent layer of hard-light tinted dark green and marked out with lines for four-square, hopscotch, and even two hard-light goals at the furthermost ends for football.

Both Pharah and Kamran came to a halt at the sight of a crowd gathered round a blue-clothed figure. Pharah glanced around to see that many of the more dangerous or ineffective-looking tents had been carefully replaced by hard-light geodesic domes, clearer walking paths between tents had been marked out to keep debris out of the way. She had even put up signs pointing to the toilets and bathing stations that other humanitarian organizations had set up. But clearly from the excitement from the crowd, this was the big factor.

Pharah watched as Satya constructed several hard-light beams to support a massive solar panel shade structure being hauled into position by several camp workers. Satya's arms were spread, her shoulders flexed and legs lunging in an almost martial arts stance. Usually her movements seemed so effortless and dancer-like, but this was something else. There was intention behind her movements, and a more severe focus than Pharah had seen even in some of their combat missions. Those golden eyes fixed on her goal, that imperious mouth tensed with that expression of 'Just so' as the glittering support beams adjusted their height against the ground as the other camp workers moved the solar panel structure into place. There was the groan of metal and everyone squinted as wind kicked the Cairo dust up, when someone shouted something affirmative and a few other workers moved in and riveted the solar panel in place. Satya resumed her perfect posture and with a sweep of her arm, dissolved her hard-light support pillars. With a slight creak and a low puff of dust at everyone's heels, the solar shade structure settled, solid and strong. The cheer bubbled up from the crowded camp once more, and Pharah stared up at the shade structure in wonder. A combination of shade and power--something like this would mean less smoke from diesel generators, more lighting around the camp, meaning less thievery at night, a place for newer refugees to charge their phones and get in contact with friends or family abroad who might help them move out sooner, power for mini-fridges, meaning more stability for perishable food, and on top of all that, a precious source of shade and windbreak in the harsh dust of Cairo.

"Woah," Kamran said quietly. He looked over at Pharah, "It was going to be weeks until we had the manpower and equipment to see that thing installed."

"Well, we did say we came here to help," said Pharah.

"I thought Overwatch wasn't too fond of Vishkar?" he glanced over at her.

"She's not with Vishkar, she's with us," said Pharah with no lack of smugness, "We're not just one more group with guns running around, you know."

----

The ride home in the dropship was quiet. Some missions prompted that silence more than others. Pharah loved Cairo, but the fact that it had become a major hub for refugees, the fact that there were so many desperate people and that they could only help so many at a time, that they only that they only had so much power, made her heart sore. Brigitte was sitting behind her, busying herself by writing up a mission report on her tablet. Satya had her own tablet in the copilot's seat, apparently listing possible resources Overwatch could organize to be sent to the camp, and making further notes on living conditions. For this camp? For others?

Pharah's mind trailed back to the apartment question. 'Hey speaking of living situations, what are your thoughts on moving in?' No. Too flippant. No respect for all the people they had just worked with. Maybe ask her out for that deferred shopping trip she had initially planned on? No, they were all too tired to think about that now... She focused on steering for a while, but her gaze trailed back to Satya, noting the furrow in her brow as she tapped in notes on her tablet.

"How are you doing?" asked Pharah, rolling her grip on the controls as they sat next to each other.

"I'm... fine," Satya said after a few moments.

"Just fine?" Pharah tilted her head.

Satya lowered her tablet slightly. "It's just... familiar. I like building. I like giving people a clean and beautiful place to live, but this..." She looked out the window at the refugee camp shrinking in the distance behind them, "None of these people are here by choice." She paused, "I used to do this often with Vishkar."

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't see it until later but... when people would refuse to let Vishkar build a development... then... Talon would coincidentally strike, and all of a sudden Vishkar would seem so much safer. It would seem like the only option. So they would take up Vishkar's offer, usually now a lot more expensive, and giving Vishkar a lot more access to their resources and labor... and that's when the architechs would come in. That's where I would come in. I thought I was saving the world from Talon's chaos... but I was just helping all of them line their pockets and control more people's lives. When I'm doing it on my own it-- it doesn't feel like enough. It's not enough to make up for what I did with Vishkar."

Pharah wanted to hug her, but she was driving the dropship. She raised a hand toward her, hesitated, resumed her grip on the steering wheel, trying to assume that solid, clear voice of a leader.

"Satya, you made so many people's lives better today. I know they don't have a lot right now, but thanks to you they have electricity, cleaner water, safer ways to move around the camp, more protection for themselves and their belongings. No, their living situation isn't permanent but... you gave them dignity. Which means a lot." She paused and felt her own voice soften, "You know, you've done the same for the Watchpoint, too. People get so caught up in all the missions, they forget that the Watchpoint needs to be this central hub, that it needs to be somewhere safe, that we can rest and recover at. I know it's not supposed to be permanent either, but you still--"

"I want to move in with you," Satya said suddenly, setting her tablet down in her lap. Pharah froze in her seat.

This prompted Brigitte to glance up from her tablet, unbuckle her seatbelt, and clear her throat, muttering, "I'm just going to... check the inventory in back..." She moved about as quickly as one could in full armor on a moving aircraft.

"C-come again?" said Pharah.

"I want to move in with you," Satya said more firmly.

Pharah's own head was a log jam of 'Oh thank god I wasn't sure how to bring it up' and 'Yes, yes, I love you of course, do you think we should get new furniture?' and 'Oh god I'm so sorry I let you stay in that dormitory for so long.' But all that stammered out of her was, "Oh-Okay."

Satya seemed to take this as continued bewilderment rather than acceptance and went on. "I was going to ask when we got back but..." She fidgeted with her fingers slightly, "I--I didn't want you to think I-- I'm getting with you just for your apartment!"

Pharah blinked. "Satya, I don't think that at all. I would never think that."

"It's just more efficient!" Pharah could practically feel the heat blazing off of Satya's face as she said that, but the word 'Efficient,' made a sputter of giggles burgeon up from Pharah's chest. But then Satya suddenly splayed her fingers and a blue screen sparkled into existence next to her head, "There's multiple benefits, both mutually and to the watchpoint as a whole! I made a slideshow!"

"You made a slideshow on why you should move in?!" Pharah was cracking up now.

"I wasn't sure of the protocol for this," Satya's voice was taut and those golden eyes were deadly serious.

It took Pharah a few seconds to get over her own laughter before clearing her throat. "Satya, I would love if you moved in. You don't.. need to justify yourself all over the place. I would love to have more time to spend with you. Even if it's just... doing dishes, or dumping myself into bed next to you late at night because we've both been busy all day," she paused, "Especially if it's waking up next to you." The words seemed to come out of her so much more easily than 'This would free up more space in the dormitory' or 'This way you're not always walking or teleporting across the watchpoint to get your stuff.'

Satya was staring at her. "Truly?" she said.

"Well--Yeah! I love you, Satya," Pharah smiled, the low orange sunlight through the dropship's windshield catching in her gold hair beads, "I should have asked you... while ago, really. But... I was scared. I knew things were already such a big change from Vishkar and I didn't want to... scare you away or anything."

"Fareeha," Satya reached over and touched Pharah's arm, "You are the best thing that's happened to me since leaving Vishkar."

She leaned over in her seat and Pharah craned over as much as her seatbelt would allow. Satya was likely just going for a cheek kiss seeing as Pharah was driving, but Pharah wasn't going to end a 'We're moving in together' conversation with a cheek kiss. She met Satya's mouth with a bit of effort and felt Satya start slightly at the contact, then lean into it, cupping her hand at Pharah's jaw and playing with her hair beads slightly. They weren't sure how long they were kissing until a rattle of turbulence forced Pharah's attention back to the controls with a nervous giggle. "Eh--sorry--" she said, giving a shrug with both hands on the controls.

Satya just smiled and faced the same direction, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

"...You know, I'd still like to see the slideshow, later," said Pharah.

"Good. I worked very hard on it," said Satya, sitting up in her seat with a smug smile on her face.

#Symmarah #me making cassidy supportive in the most obnoxious way possible: it's bi-coding #cole cassidy #Symmpharah #Pharmetra #I feel like I'm the only one posting to this ship tag these days #but then if Symmarah has only one fan... I am that fan #overwatch #satya vaswani #fareeha amari

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lethalneuroses · 4 years

Text

veneration

Satya will have Fareeha when she wants her, but they aren’t the only ones in the locker room.

“Please,” Fareeha says, breathless, before they’re even all the way into the locker rooms. “Please, Satya, I want—”

Satya gives her a single cold look, enough to silence her. Fareeha is so eager, so enthusiastic, and she adores that in her partner. It makes her feel warm and beautiful and happy to be so desired, but they both also derive pleasure from something sharper. Harsher.

“Don’t beg me,” Satya says. “If I want something from you, I’ll ask for it.”

It feels good to be in control. Fareeha likes—loves—when she takes the reins, and it is wonderful to Satya to be able to take things at her own pace. Having a woman so eager to dote on her, to serve her, makes her feel...good. Powerful. What a heady sensation, to know she could command Fareeha Amari to do anything and be obeyed.

In the locker rooms, alone, Satya sits down on the bench and wipes at herself with a towel. She hates being sweaty, and she wants to shower, but the desire to play with her lover is, for now, more pressing. Fareeha stands still, waiting for Satya’s decree. Her eyes are pleading, though, and so beautiful.

“Kneel,” Satya says, and Fareeha drops like a stone. Her face is glowing; obviously she thinks that kneeling is a precursor to a better treat. Satya isn’t so sure about that.

“Undress,” she commands. Fareeha only hesitates a moment before pulling off her tank top and then her sports bra. Her bottoms take more effort, but soon she is kneeling before her girlfriend without a scrap of clothing.

Satya studies her. Fareeha is exquisite enough when clothed, but nude she makes for an even more impressive specimen. Her whole body is defined by its musculature, from her broad shoulders and biceps to her abs. Fresh from a workout as they are, she glistens with sweat.

Her breasts are large and beautiful. Her warm brown nipples are erect. Satya’s mouth waters.

“You want to taste me?” she asks, and leans back on the bench. Fareeha is between her open knees, but she makes no move but to nod.

Satya slips a hand under her workout shorts, under her panties. Her fingers come out dripping with sweat and slick and blood.

“Do you still want to taste me?” she asks again. Fareeha’s nod is even more eager this time. Her eyes are fixed on Satya’s gleaming fingers.

Satya decides to oblige.

“You may lick,” she says, and holds out her hand. Fareeha quickly but gently grasps her wrist. Her tongue connects with the pad of Satya’s index finger and then slides down its length. Her eyes have the sort of hazy, blissful look she gets whenever they play.

Satya is very, very aware of the mess in her panties. Fareeha’s mouth closing around her fingers and sucking does little to alleviate the problem.

“That’s enough,” she says sharply, and stands up. “I’m going to shower. Come.”

She undresses and heads for the shower, very aware of how Fareeha’s eyes linger on her.

It feels good to be wanted.

In the showers she leans back against the tile wall and lets lukewarm water pour over her, refreshing after the heat and sweat of the workout. One of her legs is firm on the ground. The other is hooked over Fareeha’s shoulders.

Fareeha kneels before her, powerful arms gripping Satya’s hips, her mouth at last firmly pressed into her girlfriend’s center.

She eats her out with a passion that leaves Satya wondering if she was thinking about this during their whole workout. Fareeha is always an eager lover, but the setting or, perhaps, the crimson blooming from between Satya’s thighs has made her even more so.

“Just like that,” Satya murmurs as encouragement. “I love seeing you like this.” It’s true; looking down she can see her lover’s brow furrowed in concentration, her mouth buried in Satya, her arms shining with water droplets. She is a vision, and she is Satya’s.

Then Satya looks up, and makes eye contact with Doctor Ziegler, who is standing on the far side of the showers wearing nothing but a towel and a blush.

Satya is surprised, but not humiliated; while certain strains of public affection embarrass her, this does not. She is not particularly modest. So she lifts her chin and smiles the tiniest bit and encourages Fareeha with a moan.

Doctor Ziegler does not move. She seems fixated on the scene before her. It sends a spark through Satya, knowing they are being watched, while Fareeha is none the wiser.

“Stop,” she orders, tightening her hand in Fareeha’s hair. Her lover pulls back and stares up at her, and Satya shivers at the sight. Fareeha’s lips are dark, and the skin around her mouth tinged with rusty red. Satya’s blood, and she laps it like an eager dog.

“Are you happy I let you do that?” she asks. Her voice is louder than it strictly needs to be for Fareeha to hear.

“Yes,” Fareeha rasps.

“Tell me.”

“I love tasting you. Smelling you. Making you—please, ya amar.”

It is difficult for Satya to resist pulling her back down. Her body feels like a live wire. It is difficult to imagine anything more arousing than Fareeha begging to be allowed to continue to eat her out.

“Do you like,” she asks, her eyes flicking between Fareeha and their uninvited guest, “when I’m bleeding?”

Fareeha closes her eyes before answering, and when she opens them she can’t look at Satya.

“Yes,” she says finally. “Yes.”

There is a look on Doctor Ziegler’s face: envious. Hungry. Aroused.

Satya smiles.

“Then make me come,” she orders, and pulls Fareeha back down. Her lover goes eagerly, and her mouth finds Satya’s hard, desperate little clit. Satya digs her heel into Fareeha’s back and stares at Doctor Ziegler as her orgasm builds, as Fareeha skillfully and obediently devours her.

Doctor Ziegler’s hand moves slowly downward to pet between her own thighs.

#symmarah #symmpharah #pharmetra #femslash february #natalie writes fanfic

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