Fareeha Amari - Tumblr Posts
I love EVERYTHING about this
Cole: *crying quietly in the corner*
Pharah: Cole?...
Cole: Their love fer me was a fuckin' lie... Gabe's willin' t' kill me and calls me stupid... Jack said lettin' me join overwatch was a waste... They didn't love me...
Pharah: *hugs him* Mom and I love you... You're my brother, and Ana was the one that signed the second part of your adoption papers, we love you so much, those old farts are morons.
Cole: *smiles a little and hugs her back* Thanks Fareeha... I love ya too. Where's Ana right now?
-
Ana: *beating Jacks ass with her rifle* YOU’RE GONNA WISH YOU DIED IN THAT EXPLOSION! HOW DARE YOU HURT YOUR SON LIKE THAT YOU HEARTLESS BASTARD!
I need your help with something by Brosequartz. Fareeha needs Jesse's help to play a prank on Gabe.
Three Times McCree Saved Fareeha, and One Time Pharah Saved McCree by Red_Tigress. Three times Jesse saved lil'Fareeha.
The Justice Siblings shall rise!!!
the man in the lion's mouth by extraterrestrialhighway. "I said that he's slicker'n owl shit." Gabriel lost it all over again – holding his stomach with one hand and wiping his tears away with the other – while Jesse slowly slid lower and lower into his seat. It was obvious, after all, where Fareeha had picked up the absurd american saying. Ana was going to kill him. — A collection of moments in the lives of a young Pharah and McCree, painting an image of what it was like for them growing up together in Overwatch. Most are just random snippets but a few connect to create a larger story.
Very cute + feels = perfect fic
Sibling Rivalry by TormentaPrudii. Fareeha and Genji get snatched by bounty hunters in a play to get at their older siblings. But they aren't worried in the slightest. Mostly they're just bored. Nothing like a wager to keep things interesting.
Everyone is very in character + very funny. (You need an ao3 account in order to read)
hello. I made some more. I tried my best with roadhog but it looks so weird 😭
Fareeha Amari (Pharah) Cosplay
Breaking [My Heart]: Act II Exposing
"There's nothing simple when it comes to you and I, Always something in this everchanging life" - Everchanging [Rise Against] Winston has issued the recall towards rebuilding Overwatch. Angela - formerly known as "Mercy" - is captured by Talon, who are searching for any information that can stop the rise before it begins.
AO3 | FF.net | Works | Pandora Playlist
Trigger Warnings & General Statements This is the second part of a dark torture story. As such, there's going to be bad things happening - for the sake of not spoiling, I will not tag what, exactly will be appearing at any time. While I don't think any of the scenes are terribly graphic in nature, I do want to stress that the scenes are present and aren't for everyone. I did try to make the reactions and trauma realistic, following both real-world medicine / research and in-game universe canon (such as Angela's nanotechnology). There will be multiple POVs per chapter - two sets for both Angela and Reaper as well as a fifth from an additional character. Please, read at your own risk - and enjoy!
I want someone to hurt Like the way I hurt It’s sick but it makes me feel better - Sometimes [Skillet]
“How’s our doctora?” Gabriel didn’t react to the woman that was suddenly at his shoulder. One of her favorite ‘pranks’ was to sneak up on various agents to try to startle them. Instead, he suppressed a long-suffering sigh and glanced towards her briefly – not that she could see, with his eyes hidden behind the mask – before turning his attention back to Angela and her interrogators. “See for yourself.” The Reaper gestured towards the window with one clawed hand. He knew that Sombra knew how Angela was; there were two cameras inside that chamber. If anyone thought for a single second that Sombra couldn’t access every electronic in this base, then they were an idiot. She had come down here to needle him, as she was wont to do. The Mexican woman hummed, leaning forward to press both forearms against the small desk that sat against the wall directly under the glass that showcased the woman in question. The space was meant for someone to take notes, but with the cameras it was made pointless. Instead, it was used to set down whatever the observer didn’t want to hold while watching; perhaps a file folder, maybe a drink – it varied depending on the person. Right now, the desk was completely empty. Angela was still hanging from the chains with her head bowed as she fought for silence, her breaths coming in heavy, desperate pants. They had sliced her top clean through along her spine, leaving it to hang limply from her shoulders. If her arms weren’t chained above her head, the cloth – and the doctor – would undoubtedly be on the floor. There were three men in the room. One stood before her, barking questions. They were all a variation of the questions they had asked her the day before: prior Overwatch members, how Overwatch would reform, questions on her medical research and the nanites within her. Every time Angela refused to answer, he would nod at one of the other two men in the room. One would land a punishing blow somewhere on her body – sometimes with a fist, occasionally open-handed, but all calculated to inflict the most pain. The other would strike with a whip across her back. While it was impossible to see her back from here, Gabriel knew that they hadn’t started breaking skin until a few questions ago. Now, dots of red were speckling the ground at her feet. Still, the only sounds Angela made were soft grunts of pain and heavy breaths. Every strike left her off balance; the chains forced her to remain in one place, but there was no way to brace against any blow. Without the slack necessary to stagger and redistribute her weight, she would lose balance and hang painfully against her wrists and shoulders before forcing her shaking legs beneath her once more. Most of her face was hidden, but he could see how her jaw locked and her throat bobbed as she swallowed back screams. After Gabriel had considered it yesterday, he wasn’t surprised at her silence. Angela had been all too ready to bleed – to die – for those she protected when she worked with Overwatch. It was such a fundamental part of the woman; how could he have expected it to change, even after all these years? “Didn’t know the chica had it in her,” Sombra commented after a moment. She rose and crossed her arms, weight shifting so that she leaned to one side as she glanced sidelong at him. She waited for a few seconds as if expecting him to add to the conversation. When he didn’t, Gabriel could practically feel her eyes roll. “Didn’t know you had it in you, either.” The Reaper turned towards her then, but she was still looking at the bloody blonde who was fighting to remain quiet. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He demanded after it was clear that she wasn’t going to elaborate – that she was going to make him work for it. Sombra glanced over towards him, only the vaguest hint of her typical mischief shining in her currently blue eyes. She changed eye color as often as she changed her clothes, but he suspected their actual color was brown. “Didn’t think you’d be the one to bring her in, that’s all.” She turned her back to the glass and lifted herself to sit atop the desk, feet dangling as she regarded him. It was unsurprising that she would be unfazed by the scene behind her; he imagined she had dug up far worse throughout her life in her search for the perfect blackmail material. No one in Talon was innocent. “You have a history with her.” Sombra shrugged, a lazy motion as if it didn’t matter – but Sombra never did anything without a purpose. It hadn’t been a secret that he had been a part of Overwatch, but they had left out his exact role. Only a handful of people in Talon knew who truly lay beneath his mask – and what the woman in chains had once meant to him. The council, of course: they would never allow him to sit at their table without knowing who he was. Sombra, because she knew everything about everyone – and if she didn’t know it, it wasn’t worth knowing. Widowmaker possibly knew who he was as well, but he wasn’t sure how much the brainwashing had erased. They had known each other – had been friends, even – before she had become Talon’s mindless assassin and he had become the Reaper. A whimper drew the attention of both. Sombra shifted to glance back over one shoulder. It was a quiet, strained sound that had escaped from Angela’s throat. Gabriel wondered what expression had crossed her face, but it was shielded from his sight by her loose hair and bowed head. Her interrogator, much closer and with a better angle, probably could see whatever emotion had crossed her face – if she had allowed any to show at all. Another question. Another stroke across the back. No sound. He knew her, so he knew she hated that small break in her armor, that she had shown them any weakness at all. The Reaper could practically hear her teeth grind in protest. Just as they were determined to rip anything from her throat, she was determined to remain silent. A slap, directly across the welts and gashes in her back, elicited another strangled sound of pain. Finally, finally, she was beginning to break. His mouth twisted into a malicious grin. It was a minor victory in the ongoing war being waged in that room – he knew she was too stubborn to be defeated so soon, but they had dragged sound from the mute doctor. Soon enough, it would be words – begs, pleas. Then, finally, she would break entirely to give them what they wanted. “It will only get worse,” Sombra remarked casually, as if commenting on the weather. She had turned away from the glass once more, eying her nails critically. She didn’t react to the slaps of leather-on-flesh or the demanded questions that were sometimes answered with a whimper but were usually followed by silence. “This is the least of what she deserves.” The Reaper growled, harsh even to his ears. But there was truth – his truth, if nothing else – in the words. He had lived in torment, forced to feed on the life force of other humans or live in excruciating pain, because of her. She deserved everything they would give her and more. “Huh.” Sombra slid off the desk and turned towards the door. “And here I thought you were just pretending to be a cold bastard.” There was a hint of disapproval in her voice, but Gabriel wasn’t sure what, exactly, she was disapproving of. His words? Angela’s captivity? He watched her leave without a backward glance, the door shutting silently behind her, before turning his attention back to the doctor so that he could revel in Angela’s pain.
She hurt. Pain was an old bedfellow, but that didn’t make its presence any less unwelcome. Every breath hurt; her back was a mess of pain and blood that shifted every time she inhaled. Her wrists felt raw – probably were raw – from her trying to brace against the swaying and staggering during her latest interrogation. And it was only going to get worse. Her nanites were working diligently, but she had no way to direct them. Whatever was determined to be the worst, the most life-threatening, would be what they targeted – which was precisely how she had programmed them. Angela simply had to hold on while they relieved her pain and extended her miserable existence in this chamber. She hated that one of her greatest creations was being used against her in such a macabre way, even as she desperately longed for the relief it would bring. Angela was strong – but hers was not a physical strength. She could cow people with a look, take command of a room just with her presence. It was that strength that had allowed her, at the tender age of twenty-two, to take and hold the position of Medical Director for Overwatch. Her strength wasn’t meant for blood and chains. The doctor did not look up when the door opened again. There was no point – the lights made it impossible to see. Instead, she left her head bowed and eyes closed. Only one person this time. Their footsteps were heavier than the men who had come before. Mentally she tracked them as they circled her slowly, as they paused to take in her bloody back, before coming to a stop in front of her. If she weren’t shackled, Angela was certain she could reach out and touch them. “And here stands the famous Dr. Ziegler.” The Reaper somehow made her name sound like an insult. Her eyes flew open as if she could see him – as if seeing him would somehow make her less helpless than she was right now. Angela forced them closed again, forced herself to appear unperturbed by her current situation, mentally berating herself for showing any reaction. “Nothing to say?” He growled. “No pleas for Mercy?” Again, her name twisted into something bitter and hateful. Her entire body was tense, screaming as the half-healed lashes broke open and blood rolled sluggishly down her back, as she waited for whatever new injury was coming. She maintained her stony silence and listened as he paced before her. “You brought this upon yourself, you know.” He growled from somewhere to her left. His statement had so many layers of truth, more than the man knew. From the day her parents had died, she’d walked a path that would inevitably lead her to this room – or another very like it. It was only a surprise that she had not been taken sooner; her medical genius under the thumb of Talon – or another terrorist organization – could turn the tides heavily in their favor. Her knowledge of Overwatch – the protocols, the backdoors, the agents, everything – would only be a bonus. “You’re too stubborn for your own good – you always have been.” The words were rushed as if he needed to get them out now before it was too late. Angela’s mind whirled as she tried to make sense of his angry words. How could this monster know what she had ‘always been’? “You never knew when to quit, never.” Now he was snarling as his footsteps stormed closer once more. Only the chains kept her in place as she instinctively tried to back away from the obvious threat. There weren’t many people that she had been close to during her time with Overwatch. Not well enough that they could know what she ‘never’ would do, at least. The words revealed more than she thought he wanted; she knew the man under the mask, even if she didn’t recognize him. “If you did, we wouldn’t be here right now.” One clawed hand was suddenly around her throat, yanking her head up from its bowed position as her eyes blindly flew open once more. It was firm enough to terrify her, but it didn’t hamper her in any other way. Angela was sure he wouldn’t kill her – she hadn’t uttered a single word since he had taken her from her apartment in Cairo. Why go through all this trouble if he was just going to rip her throat out now? That didn’t lessen her terror in the slightest, no matter how logical the conclusion was. “Dr. Ziegler, Mercy, an angel, a God.” He squeezed slightly, voice mocking, before releasing the pressure. “I thought you doctors weren’t supposed to play God – but that didn’t stop you, did it?” Angela had no idea what he was talking about; she didn’t play God. Like every other doctor, she used every tool available to preserve the broken lives that came before her. She had just created better tools during her time with Overwatch. Overwatch. “I told you to let go, to let me die – and you didn’t.” Now his mask was in her face, impossible to miss even with the lights, his grip a vice that didn’t allow her to lean away. “Instead, you turned me into this.” Angela went cold, her mind stuttering to a brief stop as she took in his declaration. If he was to be believed, she had created the murderous monster that had stalked the world since the fall of Overwatch. The Reaper had appeared only a few months after the fall. “You didn’t listen because you thought you knew best.” His breathing was ragged, as if he had run a marathon. She could feel it, hot and heavy on her face, as he glared down at her. Who had she healed, despite their – apparent – request for death? Genji had hated her for what she had done. That thought whisked away as quickly as it had come: this wasn’t Genji. He had wanted to survive, but he hadn’t realized what it would cost him. Genji had been angry, bitter at his loss, and it had been a nearly insurmountable rift between the two of them. They had worked together when needed, but Genji had made his opinions of her – and what she had done to him – very clear. Neither man nor machine, he believed she had taken away his humanity; she had thought he would never forgive her. It was only recently that he had come to terms with himself with the Shambali monks in Nepal. Someone who wanted to die – who she had decided to save anyway. “You always thought you knew best.” He scoffed, his claws digging into the delicate flesh of her throat, just enough to draw blood that slid in thin rivers towards her collarbone. She tried not to flinch – what was one more injury after what she had already endured? – but her face must have given something away. He chuckled, a low humorless sound that made her hair stand up. There was no one – no one – that she had saved that had wanted to die. “Oh, you should have let me go, Angela, mi corazón. ” He had leaned in closer, the words whispered into her ear for only her to hear. Her heart seized, and now she was sucking in desperate breaths. No one living knew of that endearment. “Now, we both pay the price for your pride.” He had died – he had died – there was no way that it was -- “Ga-Gabriel?” Her voice was rough with disuse, tentative and weak. It was the first word she had spoken in what had felt like an eternity, forced past his hand at her throat and through numb lips. It couldn’t be him. She had buried him – mourned him, despite his betrayal. He was dead. His head yanked back from her, quick as a striking snake. “That isn’t my name.” His grip tightened, claws digging further into her skin as the pads of his fingertips cut off all air. “I haven’t been Gabriel for a very long time.” Her hands twisted futilely in their bonds, trying desperately to reach down and tear his hand away. Just before she lost consciousness, he relaxed his grip enough for her to gulp down air in small, wheezing gasps. “Everything I am, everything I’ve done – that’s on you, because you didn’t listen to me.” The whisper seemed to echo in the room, the accusation striking deep in her heart. Then the air was gone again, but this time he didn’t let go until she was unconscious.
It was supposed to make him feel better. He hadn’t said everything he wanted to – Gabriel could still feel cruel words festering in his heart and soul – but he had said enough. Gabriel would have said more, would have yelled and screamed until his throat was hoarse, but then the Reaper had dug those claws into her throat. The Reaper wanted to ruin her, hurt her as he had hurt for all those years – but Gabriel couldn’t do it. He’d had to force himself out of the room before the Reaper did something Gabriel would regret. It should have been a relief to finally tell her exactly what she had done, but all that was left was a hollow emptiness. It had started perfectly. Angela was helpless in chains, at his mercy instead of the other way around. Her terror had been such a sweet nectar, a prize worth waiting all those years for. Then, his simmering rage had bubbled over until his claws were red with her blood, until the brutal truth came out. Then it all turned sour. That look on her face. That fucking look. The Reaper wanted to claw it off, rip her eyes out so she couldn’t look at him like that again. All it took was two little words, and she was completely undone. Her walls had come down in a way only he could manage and allowed him to see what lay beneath. He had watched the emotions that had flown through her with breakneck speed. Terror of being in the Reaper’s grasp had turned into shock at his name for her, his heart. A brief flash of love for the man she remembered, the man he no longer was, the man she had buried despite the lack of body. Hope, flickering and fleeting, that he might help her – before she remembered that it was he who had brought her here. Sorrow for her loss and the monster he had become had followed closely afterward. Gabriel had waited for the anger that would come next. He had shattered her world in so many ways and then left her to try to pick up the pieces that cut and sliced as she grasped at them. Gabriel had forced her to bury him, to mourn him, despite his betrayal. Then, he had turned into the monster that stalked the night and murdered the agents she had sworn to protect. He had shackled her and let her be tortured without lifting a finger to stop it. It should disgust her at what he had become and all he had done. Instead, the sorrow had remained, and she had called his name. She shouldn’t be sad. She should be horrified, enraged. He wanted her anger. Needed it. But Angela just looked up at him with those blue eyes that pierced through the Reaper and straight into Gabriel. He’d had to pull away, to escape those eyes that saw far too much. But there was no escaping them. Even here, in the hallway with a door between them and Angela left unconscious, he could feel them. It should have been sweet, this victory – it had been sweet – but all he could taste as he stalked through the hallways was ash. He gathered his guns and various supplies from the armory before leaving the Oasis base altogether. The Reaper told himself it was to hunt, to take the edge off the pain that was always hovering over him. Gabriel knew it was to bloody their hands in a way they couldn’t – wouldn’t – with the caged angel of his past.
Angela woke all at once, her body screaming in pain. Every part of her hurt, even with the help of her nanites. She shifted, taking the weight off her shoulders, and felt another of the lashes on her back reopen. Angela hurriedly turned a whimper of pain into a hiss of air through clenched teeth; there was no telling who was watching, and she wanted to give as little of a reaction as possible. It was only after she trusted herself to keep her face blank and impassive that she allowed herself to consider the Reaper. Gabriel. And it was Gabriel. The two of them were the only people who knew of that endearment, whispered in quiet moments in the privacy of her – their – bedroom. They had never spoken it where anyone else could overhear and possibly report it back to their enemies. Not even in front of their friends – their family – did they use those endearments. No, that one had been for her ears alone. Mi corazón. Mein herz. It was the closest thing to wedding vows that they would ever take, but that had suited them just fine. The two of them were prominent members of their organizations – her as Mercy and the Medical Director of Overwatch, him as the Commander of Blackwatch. It wasn’t safe for people like them, with such responsibility and power, to foster relationships. People in their positions couldn’t afford such luxuries – such weaknesses. Amélie and Gérard had been a horrible reminder of that lesson. Amélie had come from a family that had once been influential but had been in decline long before she was born. Between the slight influence of her name and her fame as a talented ballerina, she had experienced some power. Amélie had had a taste of what she needed to be to stand at Gérard’s side. Gérard was a power far more influential and dangerous than what Amélie had ever held. Gérard had been their expert on Talon. He had commanded agents, ordered life and death, and was one of the largest targets in the entire organization due to his vast knowledge. In Overwatch, only the Strike Commander and his Captain – Jack and Ana – were more valuable. Amélie hadn’t been ready for that burden, the weight that marrying Gérard carried. The ballerina had thought she understood the risks, the danger. It was understandable, really. No one could understand, not without actually experiencing it. Angela had acclimatized with relative ease – as a doctor, she had always carried around the burdens of life and death. Amélie had never needed to worry about her words, worry about her next breath, not as she had once she was Gérard’s wife. Oh, they had tried to help her. Angela had befriended her in a way she had never attempted before. All her friends had been fostered through her work, through medicine or missions. Amélie wasn’t even a part of Overwatch – but Gérard was. They needed Gérard, and so Angela tried her best to help him and his new, beautiful wife. It had been an awkward, stumbling start, but somehow they had become friends. Angela had helped Amélie learn to shoulder the constant threat and fear, something Angela had long since come to terms with. Angela had been there when Amélie couldn’t sleep, terrified that Gérard was going to die while out on a mission. She had soothed the ballerina when Gérard was recovering from the bomb that had nearly killed him, even though Angela herself had almost lost Gabriel in that same explosion. Angela had become for Amélie what Gabriel was for her. Angela always made time to search out the woman, to give her counsel or just a shoulder to cry on. They talked about many things – from Angela’s research to Amélie’s hopes for the future. Eventually, Amélie took up ballet again and started living the life she had put on hold while she got her bearings. They had let their guard down after her being safe for so long – and that had been their undoing. Talon had kidnapped Amélie, just as they had abducted Angela now. Unlike Angela, they had returned the ballerina – not that Overwatch had realized she was being returned at the time. Amélie was recovered, almost no worse for her two weeks in Talon’s clutches, and life went back to normal. That is, until Amélie assassinated Gérard. It had been a horrible discovery. Somehow, the sweet woman had been brainwashed into murdering the husband she had once loved. No one saw it coming – not even Angela, who had looked her over and had spoken to her every day. It was all normal – until it wasn’t. Amélie had returned to Talon before they could stop her and was now one of their best assassins: the formidable Widowmaker. Gabriel and Angela hadn’t wanted to follow in their footsteps, to risk one of them being used against the other. They kept their relationship private – only their closest friends and a few UN members knew about them – to protect themselves and each other. Neither had been willing to endanger the other for something so trivial as a wedding or a ring. They didn’t need material proof of the love between them. That had been a source of grief after the fall. Nothing material meant there was nothing to hold on to after he was gone and buried, besides her memories and what few photographs she could salvage from the wreckage of her personal effects. Gabriel had thoroughly shattered her life, her world, when he had destroyed the Zürich base that had been her home. She had found him that day, broken and dying in the rubble, when she had gone searching for Jack - her Commander, her friend, her brother. Angela hadn’t known of Gabriel’s betrayal then, hadn’t known that he had caused the wanton destruction that surrounded them – but knowing wouldn’t have changed the outcome. She would have still tried to save him because that was who she was and what she did. Angela had been forced to abandon him before stabilizing him due to the building crashing down around them. She had barely escaped with her life. After seeing his injuries, she didn’t believe for a single moment that he had survived the collapse; even when his body hadn’t been recovered, she didn’t think he survived. Angela was certain he had died, believed it enough to mourn and bury him. Angela had given him a grave when the UN had refused: even traitors deserved a place to rest and be remembered. Graves were for the living. She had been the one to give aid to what was left of his family after they had denied his death benefits; his family had done nothing wrong, after all. They had simply had the misfortune of being related to him. She had mourned him most, over all the others who died, despite his betrayal – especially because of the betrayal. Because she had loved him, fiercely and desperately. It hadn’t been easy, loving Gabriel. Sometimes it was hard and painful, like hugging a porcupine, when he was at his most difficult. Sometimes it had been nearly impossible, faced with his position as the Blackwatch Commander and all that entailed. But it had been worth it, all of it, including the end. He had been her first real friend, the first person who saw her for Angela and not just Dr. Ziegler – or, later, Mercy. Gabriel was her confidant, the one she turned to when the weight of the world was too much to bear, who soothed her after she woke up screaming and stayed up the rest of the night so she wouldn’t be alone. A piece of her had died with him in the rubble of the Zürich base. She wrestled with herself for a moment, forcing down tears and choking back a sob. Gabriel’s death had been a wound to her heart that she had thought was healed. The revelation of the Reaper’s real name had ripped through the scar tissue and split her open more viciously than her back had been. Angela had known she would face pain here, trapped in a torture chamber deep inside the black heart of Talon, but she hadn’t expected it to be this kind of pain. He had died. Angela had buried him, just like she had buried the other members of their family by choice – Ana, the mother; Jack, the brother. Just like Gabriel, their bodies hadn’t been recovered either. She had taken flowers to his grave twice a year: once for his birthday in May and again for his death day in August – the anniversary of the day she had lost everything – the only personal time she ever took for herself. The only time she allowed herself to remember, to be anything but numb. Despite all that, he was alive. He was alive, and now she was his hated enemy instead of friend and lover. He was the Reaper, a dark and deadly serial killer that had rarely left survivors. He was with Talon, an organization he had once dedicated his life to stopping. He had brought her here, condemned her to be tortured and broken before being tossed away. He had gloated over her capture. It was that fact, more than anything else, that made her believe the Reaper. He wasn’t Gabriel – not her Gabriel, at least. Her Gabriel would never have put her in danger; he had been nearly smothering in his protection. That Gabriel would have yanked her down out of these chains and whisked her away or died trying. No, her Gabriel was dead, and a monster had taken his place. Angela couldn’t stop a few stray tears from streaking down her cheeks as she mourned his loss all over again.
The only person from Overwatch Fareeha had spoken to since her mothers’ death years ago had been Dr. Ziegler – Angela. The doctor kept in touch throughout the years – even after the collapse – checking in periodically and remembering to call on holidays and her birthday. So, when she awoke to a voicemail – left at 1:37 AM – from Cole, she had been surprised. Fareeha remembered the man; between his drawling accent and the cowboy outfit, he was very unforgettable. It also helped that her mother had taken a picture of the two of them, helpfully labeled ‘Cole and Fareeha, 2062’. He wanted her to check on Angela. If it had been anyone else, Fareeha might have said no. Even if she had known Cole nearly a decade ago – or more, actually, but she wasn’t entirely sure – that didn’t mean she owed him anything now. But Angela was an entirely different matter. The doctor was her friend after so many years. Clearly, she was Cole’s too – why else would he reach out after all this time? His urgency had driven her to request a few personal days off – something she rarely did - and then she had traveled out to the address in Cairo he had provided her. “Angela?” She had called, knocking at the door. There was no answer, but Fareeha wasn’t sure that was unusual. She knew that her doctor friend could keep long hours, so perhaps she was already out – or still asleep. Fareeha stood at the door for several minutes, considering what her next steps should be. The woman pulled out her communicator and called Angela, as she had done – twice – on the way here. Faintly, Fareeha could hear the sound of Angela’s communicator inside the apartment. Was that normal? Did she usually leave it behind? “Angela?” Fareeha had called again, pocketing the communicator. This time, she jiggled the knob – and was surprised to find the door unlocked. That was unusual, Fareeha knew. Angela wouldn’t leave her home unlocked, not with the equipment she hauled around. Cautiously, the Egyptian pushed the door open and sidled in, regretting that she hadn’t brought a weapon with her. Fortunately, there was no need for a weapon. Unfortunately, the apartment was empty of the doctor. Fareeha found a set of keys on the ground, which only proved her belief of foul play. She scooped them up and tested them on the door; they were an exact match, which meant that Angela probably hadn’t left the apartment willingly. She poked around, but nothing else jumped out at her as out of order– just the keys and the unlocked door. She left everything as it was and locked up the apartment. There was a medical camp nearby; she would investigate there next. Hopefully, they had better news than the apartment did.
---
Fareeha waited until 5:00 PM to call Cole back. It had felt like an eternity, but their radically different time zones necessitated the wait. “Fareeha? What’d ya find?” He sounded alert; perhaps she could have called him earlier. It didn’t matter. Quickly, she relayed what she had found: the open door, the keys on the ground, and her absence at the medical camp for the past three days. “She’s not here, Cole.” Fareeha had been worried before, but now she was terrified. There was no sign of the doctor anywhere, though there was ample enough proof that she had been here. Her absence meant nothing good. “Did it look like there was a struggle, back at her place?” The cowboy had asked after a long, considering moment. “Besides the keys on the ground? No. It all looks… normal.” Fareeha glanced around the apartment she had been searching while she had watched the clock. “It’s kind of empty – but that’s normal, right?” Cole made an affirmative noise; the past apartment Fareeha had visited had felt a lot like this one, too. “There’s no food out. The bed looked slept in.” Fareeha stalked through the small apartment, glancing around for anything she could relay to the cowboy. “Her equipment cases – you know, the ones that carry the suit and staff?” Fareeha had once convinced Angela to pull it all out so she could look at it. Of course, she had seen pictures, but that was nothing compared to having it right in front of her. The pictures didn’t capture the faint scratches and dents in the armor, proving how dangerous the doctor’s life had been before the fall. “Yeah, I know ‘em. They still there?” There was some hope in his voice; if they left the equipment behind, her captors probably weren’t exceedingly dangerous. But- “No. They took those, too.” Fareeha sat gingerly on the couch, bracing her head against her free hand. “What do we do now?” She was a fighter, the one you called when you wanted things killed – she had no idea where to begin searching for a missing person. “I’ll put some feelers out, call in some favors.” The cowboy seemed distracted, probably planning the next steps. She remembered a little about him: he was a cowboy, he was a great shot, and he had been part of Blackwatch – the covert intelligence division of Overwatch. Not that she had known at the time. She hadn’t known what the skull insignia had meant until long after Blackwatch had been revealed to the public, and everything came crashing down. “Call me if there is anything I can do.” Fareeha insisted. Helix would let her go if he called – and if they didn’t, then they weren’t worth staying with. Angela Ziegler was too crucial to the world to let a job stand in the way. “‘course I will.” He paused, considering briefly, before continuing. “Actually, can ya get her pictures and stuff, keep ‘em safe ‘til one a’us can come an’ get them?” It wasn’t what she was expecting to be asked to do, but if Cole thought it was important enough to be mentioned, she could do it. “I can do that. Let me know if you need anything else.” They said their goodbyes and disconnected. Fareeha swept her eyes around the apartment, suddenly grateful the doctor traveled light.
Your touch used to be so kind, Your touch used to give me life. I've waited all this time, I've wasted so much time. - Falling Inside the Black [Skillet]
Act One | Act Two | Act Three | Act Four | Act Five | Act Six
Newcomer?
(Bonus panels: not impressed)
my loves
“Get you someone that can do both.” or get you Fareeha Amari and watch her do everything.
Okay I’ll admit I went missing for..a long time but, hear me out. I made a Pharah(Fareeha Amari) Fanfic a couple of days ago and I was thinking of publishing it but..yeah..I don’t know if it’ll actually reach to an audience because lately my posts haven’t been reaching so just lmk what y’all think…its also modern au! where the reader works in a coffee shop with Tracer(Lena) :)
It all started with a cup of coffee
Characters: Fareeha Amari (Pharah)/fem!reader
C/w: modern au!, you work as a barista with lena (tracer), fluff-ish, suggestive, romantic scenes, Fareeha flirts w you <3, first person pov! [Not proofread]
A/n: I love women. Muah; Im still working on those love and deepspace fics..im just so busy with college stuff pls :,( anyways enjoy 😋
The coffee shop was unusually busier today, I groaned as the sight of the huge line outside grew with each minute that passed. Why did my shift had to be during lunch hour? I passed by the line of impatient customers, some angry at me (since they thought I was a cutting customer), and opened the door, my co-worker sighed in relief as she glanced my way. It seemed we’re understaffed today..
“What took you so long?” She asked, handing me my apron adorned with cute buttons, one of them being a pride flag, which people stared at it rather than me most times. Lena was regularly energetic, but today’s demand was so exhausting to the point where her usual smile faded in the back while preparing orders.
“Traffic. Go and take a break, you’ve more than enough have earned it.” She tried to complain about it, saying how I needed help taking and doing orders, but I insisted, giving her a slight push towards the break room while flashing me a smile.
Hours passed after taking customer’s orders alongside Lena that I didn’t notice it was already 5:30pm, we usually close at 7 but since tomorrow was a free day due to a small holiday event in town, the shop owner was nice enough to change the hour until 6pm for today. I began sweeping the floor and cleaning some tables when the small bell of the shop rang suddenly
“Would you mind taking their order? I have to take out the trash and finish up in the back” Lena asked as I looked up nodding and smiling her way before standing behind the register, not noticing who was in front of me.
“I’ll take a small cappuccino and the last vanilla cupcake” The voice sounded so familiar..I finally looked up to see my crush and classmate, Fareeha Amari. Her hair was messy in an attractive way and adorned with golden accessories. She smiled while meeting my gaze, knowing I had recognized her
“Fareeha? From Calculus class? It’s been a while” I said, writing her name on the cup and starting the coffee steamer.
“I’m glad you remembered, although almost no one in college now days don’t even take the time to know their professor’s names.”-there was a pause, she fetched her phone after it rang twice, apologizing before continuing-“I’ve been meaning to talk with you for a while now” Fareeha thanked me before taking small sips in between our current conversation. While I finished up on cleaning, Fareeha sat down, scrolling through some videos or social media in general.
When it came the time to close, she wished me a goodnight and left, then I noticed. She had left behind a note, her phone number was neatly written in her lovely handwriting. I quickly dialed the number, keeping the small paper in my pocket. Lena’s girlfriend, Emily, came to pick her up, they offered me a ride home but I decided to walk, thanking them while heading towards the subway.
In the morning, I decided to finally reach out to her after a long night of debating it. It’s all fun and games until Fareeha finds out the name her contact on my phone is. Nothing fancy, just ‘Pharah’, with a heart emoji on the side. Sitting down on the countertop, I reached for my phone, sighing while typing..
“Good morning! It’s Y/n, how are you?” As I awaited a reply from her, I began to prepare breakfast while trying not to think much about the text. To my surprise, my phone pinged, ‘1 message from Pharah♡’. I unlocked my phone, my heart accelerating within the second.
“Hey~! I’m doing good, better now that you texted me..by any chance are you going to tonight’s festival?” Oh? The question caught me off guard for a moment as I finished eating. Yes, I was planning to go alone however, if she’s inviting me, I wouldn’t mind.
“I have nothing better to do honestly, I’d love to go, why? You’re inviting~?” I asked, placing my phone on the counter of the vanity while going to take a shower. As I finished, my phone began to ring; Fareeha was calling me. I sighed upon seeing it was just a normal call and not facetime
“Hey, I thought you weren’t going to pick up. And to answer your question, yes, I’m inviting you out.” I grabbed my clothes, leaving the bathroom as I replied.
“Oh~? So like a date then?” There was a small paused before Fareeha chuckled,
“You’re cute, if you want it to be a date, I wouldn’t be opposed to it” Setting down my phone on my bed now, I started to dress myself before replying to her
“Sure~! Does 5pm sound good for you?”
“It’s perfect, I’ll pick you up too, just send me your address, see you” With that, she hung up. I then texted her my location; going on about my day until the time came for her to pick me up. A sudden knock on my door made me realize it was already 4:50pm, she even arrived 10 minutes early..I got up, reaching for the door and opening it
“Hi beautiful, you ready to go?” Fareeha asked, leaning against the doorframe with one arm as I smiled, taking in how good she looked
“I’ll go grab my purse, be right back!” While gathering my stuff, the realization dawned upon me, she was flirting with me, like we’ve been doing even before yesterday. I guess I was too distracted or oblivious to notice
“Thanks for waiting~” Our hands intertwined, walking out of the apartment complex, and toward her blue McLaren, the sides had a streak of gold, it looked beautiful. Fareeha opened the door for me, though the ride wasn’t that long, in 10 to 15 minutes we had already arrived to the event. It was late enough to go back for my jacket, I would’ve never thought it would be cold tonight. Fareeha seemed to notice as she quickly handed over her own
“If you were cold, you should’ve asked for my jacket, sweetheart” I nearly melted at her words, holding her hand while grabbing her jacket as we walked. I couldn’t help but stare at her now glossy lips as she applied some lipstick while letting go of my hand, only to quickly grab it as she smiled, eyes wandering from my eyes to my lips.
“I didn’t want to bother you” My voice was but a mere whisper, still, it made Fareeha laugh softly. We soon entered one of the restaurants around the block.
“Never, in fact, I’d love for you to ask for my things. My jacket suits you well” I nod, ordering a beverage along with something to eat together as Fareeha continued to stare at me, almost lovingly. After eating with her, we walked around town. She wouldn’t let me pay for anything, even with us getting matching key chains for our phones.
“You didn’t have to..don’t tell me you have a thing for spoiling people?” I inquired half jokingly, returning home with her. Fareeha’s hand gripped the steering wheel while the other rested on my thigh
“Only to people I really like..have you gotten the hint yet, or do I have to be more..direct with my feelings?” She teasingly spoke, parking nearby my apartment as I took off my seatbelt, looking over as she tried leaving the car. I grabbed her hand, leaning towards her
“What is it that you truly desire then? Go on, I’m all ears” A cocky smile appeared on her face, making me falter my grip when suddenly, Fareeha took hold of my hands, pushing me slowly against my seat.
“You hate it when I tease you yet..you’re out here playing games with me, honey”
“Okay and~? What’re you gonna do about it? Her lips crashed onto mine like a dream. It was as if tonight everything came to light. My hands caressed her face softly, leaning more into the kiss while Fareeha grabbed my hair, gently tugging it after parting away
“What~? Don’t tell me you’re speechless now?” I chuckled, my hand in hers; soon we left her car, upon arriving to my apartment, I kissed her goodnight. I couldn’t help but think of Fareeha throughout the entire night.
Months passed by, and I can proudly sat that my relationship with her has grown. To the point of moving in together a few months after she asked me to be her girlfriend. I was currently making breakfast, looking out the window to see the sky during the early afternoon. Hands suddenly wrapped around my waist as I smiled
“Good afternoon my love, sleep well?” Fareeha nodded gently, kissing my cheek while grabbing some orange juice from the fridge.
“Mhm, I never thought my dreams of having a life with you would become real, not that I’m complaining” She smiled, taking two glasses of orange-printed cups and pouring juice. At good timing too since I was done with breakfast. We sat together in the dinning table; Fareeha read the newspaper as I scrolled through some social media
“Hey, didn’t you say you wanted to visit the botanical garden last week?” She said, breaking the comfortable silence while taking our dishes back to the kitchen
“Yes, but, don’t you have to call and reserve beforehand? It’s not like we can show up without anything” Fareeha chuckled, after washing our plates, she went towards our shared bedroom and took out an envelope. Inside were two tickets for the garden
“You didn’t think I already planned ahead, right~?” I smiled, wrapping my arms around her as a small ‘thank you’. I couldn’t help but admire her eyes, the way her hair fell down onto her face…
“You’re staring..do I have something?” She looked concerned but I just laughed, kissing her softly, almost catching her off guard. Her hands quickly traveled towards my waist
“I just like staring at you, my beautiful girlfriend”
Highway to the danger zone