#brigitte x reader

Nothing went as it was supposed to today, your battle wounds proved it to your teammates as they escorted you back to HQ. You couldn't help but feel as though it was your fault, your problem, and something Brigitte shouldn't be meticulously working on. Your heart was heavy with guilt, seeing the bullet wound that lay under bandages on her upper arm, and if you could've, you would've let tears fall from the pain you felt sink into you.

And yet, you were still in shock as you sat on her lap, watching as her gaze glossed over your wounds. You felt vulnerable there, under her care entirely and in privacy now. Your mind was left foggy, not entirely present enough to recall exactly what happened, but you didn't need to. Not right now, at least.

“Okay, I need to clean around them now…” she whispered, her words soft like butter as they melted in your ears. They brought you back to reality, as you noticed the alcohol wipe she held slightly dripping down her fingers, adorning them smoothly in the florescent lights.

With a cautious nod, Brigitte watched as you braced yourself for the pain. You were used to Angela's heavy hand, and mentally prepared for the same from the mechanic in front of you. Her callouses showed her strength, and you couldn't help but feel anxious for the way this was going to feel as the alcohol sterilised your skin.

But, when it finally came, it was soothing. She started with your arm, using one arm to keep it steady through the shakiness of anticipation, and the other to sanitise. You couldn't help but feel relieved, feeling as though your mind was flushed of doubts or concerns. Brigitte was precise, keeping her eyes fixated on her wipe and refusing to let the alcohol seep into the bed of the wounds. You felt as though you were an antique, being polished and brought back to life with the gentle care of it's handler.

Even the hand holding your arm was held with the touch of an angel, comforting you more and helping you ease into her care. The feeling of her holding you like this, with such care that you hadn't seen before, was welcoming, warm to you. It broke down your walls more, making you feel more comfortable. You couldn't help but watch as her movements were determined and yet considerate, making sure that you weren't hurt by anything she did right now.

Slowly, she lifted the wipe away, disposing of it to her side before opening a new sachet. The cut that adorned your cheek was next, as her eyes moved instinctively towards it, watching you for any signs of discomfort.

You couldn't help but feel worry overwhelm you, your hands trembling softly as you anticipated the pain again. You didn't know why - she had proven how gentle she was in front of you, and yet your body was still scared. It was petrified, to say the least, and you tried to hold it in as much as possible. Any sign of your reluctance couldn't be shown, you thought, but Brigitte can read you clearly. You were an open book to her, and she couldn't ignore the signs you were waving in front of her.

“It'll be okay, baby, I'll be careful. I promise…” she hummed softly, as Brigitte's eyes made contact with you clearly. Her smile was subtle, and yet made you feel as though you were enamoured with her comforting words.

You found yourself nodding again, keeping eye contact with her before tightly squeezing your eyes shut. You couldn't bring yourself to watch her clean it, seeing the blood rest on the swab from around your wound. It was too much, and she would never force you either.

Brigitte's hand moved from your arm to your jaw, gradually positioning you to face away from her as she began to slowly work on your wound. This time, it stung more, causing you to hiss at the pain. It was bearable, but sudden as the alcohol cleaning your cheek cut was piercing into you. Pain had always been your kryptonite, after all.

“Shh, it's okay, you're doing so well, älskling…” she cooed gently, taking her time with her movements now and taking extra precaution with you. Brigitte could see the pain in the way you scrunched your eyes - it ached her heart to see you like this, but it had to be done.

Her compliments made your heart throb as you sat there, compliant with her care. She had a special way of making you feel as though you could do anything, motivating you to push through the slight tinges of pain that spike through your cheek. And right now, you had to focus on powering through, proving that you could do it to her. 

The times your eyes did open, shock widening them from the stinging, burning sensations spreading through your cheek, you noticed something about how Brigitte was watching you. Her gaze was steady, attentive, fixated on your reactions. It was as though she was treading on thin water, making sure your mind wasn't overwhelmed with the pain. But there was some heartache painted on her face - she knew there was worse to come, and she couldn't hide it from you as she meticulously worked on cleaning you up.

Soon enough, her hands moved away, the warmth from her fingers leaving your jawline quickly as she disposed of the wipe once again, with the same delicacy she treated the first one. Her stare lingered at your cheek, analysing the residual damage left there.

“You're lucky this won't scar…” she mumbled, not entirely meaning for you to hear these words as they fell from her lips. You could tell how much it pained her to see you like this, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you had done this to yourself. It wasn't true, you both knew no one was at fault, but the guilt was making it hard to process things correctly.

Truthfully, Brigitte wasn't upset with you, not in the slightest. Her distain for your condition was a reflection of her internalised feelings - she couldn't stand the fact that you had gotten hurt during a mission she lead. Brigitte prides herself on her ability to protect her loved ones, so how did she fail so easily now? It made her heart feel as though it was tearing apart, with her care intending to mend her mistakes from the mission.

Her hands moved to your side, as she turned her head to analyse the much deeper, inflammed and sore gash that lay on the side of your waist. You could tell from the frown growing on her face that she didn't have anything good to say about it.

“Now this? I'm not too sure…” her words were louder, as she kept her gaze fixated on the wound. She used her hands to gently pry the gash open more, checking for the damage and investigating how deep it was. The pain had almost tripled when she did this, making you yelp in pain. 

Just as quickly, her hands moved away, back to your thighs, holding them gently as she looked up at you. “You're okay, I know it hurts but I need to do this,” she reassured, “think you can handle just a few more seconds? I need to make sure I don't miss anything.”

You knew it was serious, and didn't want to waste time trying to prevent the pain from coming. There was no time for pain killers, IVs, anything that might've helped you cope with it - you needed to get your last concerning wound addressed before it became infected, and so you reluctantly agreed. You knew the risks, and couldn't let pain stop you from being treated by Brigitte right now.

She nodded in return, before moving her hands slowly and returning to the wound. Her frown remained, telling you everything you needed to know about the state of the gash as she continued analysing it.

“It's not infected, but I'm gonna need to clean this,” she spoke softly, but assuredly. “I've got some tweezers, stitches and gauze for this part, so I need you to stay still, just while I get the last shards out…” she continued, as she began prepping her tools ready.

Your heart began to race, feeling your blood pumping through your now terrified state as the anticipation overwhelmed you. You couldn't think clearly right now - if it hurt as much as it did when she was just checking, how much would it hurt when she actually got into the wound? You didn't know, and you couldn't think about anything but the expected pain you'd be inflicted with. Your face spoke a thousand words, with Brigitte becoming attentive to your growing anxiety.

“You can do this, I know you can….” she began to soothe you, or at least attempting to, before realising much more would be needed to get you calm enough to work on your wound.

Her hands moved from the tools, quickly moving your own and placing them on her shoulders. You stared in confusion, before she began to explain herself.

“Use my shoulders as a buffer, and let me take your pain.” she told you, before moving her own hands back to the tools at hand. You trusted her, knew she wouldn't do this unless she was completely sure. Some part of you felt honoured to have her here with you, willingly helping you through this. Your heart finally calmed, as you inhaled deeply.

Almost instantly introduces you to the other omnics around base, encourages you to spend plenty of time with them.

Whenever she isn’t working on something, she’s planning in-base dates for you two. (Ranging from movie nights, just hanging out in her workshop or a hobby of your own.)

Makes sure to keep you away from anything regarding Null Sector, hesitantly relenting if you ask about it.

Tries her best to keep you off those missions, but if she fails, she has to be there with you at all times.

Otherwise she will be constantly doting on you incase null sector did anything to you, and she will not stop until it's been confirmed nothing happened

She’s already protective due to the hate omnics recieve, and it’s only been amplified due to your past ‘relations’ and her past.

Will take it upon herself to hang around and watch over you anytime there are improvements made or something is fixed.

In her own mind, there are plenty of times where she has doubts about nearly everything, and that can sadly spread to you. So make sure to give her plenty of alone time until you seek her out.

Buys or spends hours of her day making you gold and silve jewelry (Depending on what you’ll wear), knowing that you’ll stand out and likely be in less danger. (Secretly also enjoys the fact you’re willingly wearing something that she made.)

She isn’t someone who will consciously hide you from Null Sector unless you want her too, but she does.

There’s a part of her that wants to ignore Null Sector and everyone else's opinions on omnics, and just spoil you with dates and anything else you want.

But she knows better, aware that anything could happen when you’re out. Tries her best to make up for it at the base with (almost) anything.

Akoya (Fox spirit) has a weirdly strong attachment to you, but it’s something that no one knows why.

Won’t fight the decision, but will pout about it if she isn’t able to be on a mission with you.

Makes sure either Genji or Hanzo are with or around you if she can’t be.

You lingered over her, dagger in hand. This was the moment you were trained for, and you finally had the new leader of Overwatch underneath you. She was defenceless, her limbs pinned down and all her strength used up trying to fight you before. All that was left was to end it all. Complete your mission. But you couldn't.

"You haven't won yet. Even if I fall, Overwatch never dies." she spoke softly, looking directly in your eyes. There was a fire burning behind them, fuelling her words and burning at your ideals. You were taught this would happen, as a last ditch effort to get you to drop your guard and give her an opportunity to win. You weren't going to let that happen. And yet, as your mission stayed clear in your mind, your hands remained above her chest, unable to drive the knife deep in her flesh. All you could do is watch her underneath you, with the sharp edge of your blade dancing over her now destroyed armour.

You found yourself analysing the details of her body; especially her hair. The way the reddish-brown hair surrounded her was breath-taking, as though it was effortlessly sculpted to emphasise her face. It looked soft, freshly washed. Brigitte takes pride in herself and her appearance, it's something you had always noticed but especially now. The smell of roses mixed with sweat from the fight was strong, as though she was born with it intertwined in her genes. Her very being was effortless, and all you could do was slowly admire as though this was the first time you had seen someone so... beautiful. Images Talon had shown you before the mission and whilst training could never have done her justice, and you were left starstruck.

In a moment of defiant determination, Brigitte continued to bite at you, "Stop staring at me and finish the job already! Is Talon that desperate for agents that they can't find someone who isn't afraid to kill me?" You could see in her eyes that she was growing inpatient, as though she were a rabbit being watched and played with by a wolf before being eaten alive. And yet she was still fighting; Brigitte wasn't going to give in so easily and you could see that fire inside her was growing more and more. In this moment, her once blue eyes that had an unwavering sense of resolve and warmth, were changed into something that was almost unrecognisable. Was she anxious? Angry? Annoyed? You couldn't honestly tell, but you knew she was talking to herself and calculating something in her mind, and her face spoke every word of it.

Her lips were pressed firmly together, as though they were conserving energy for another attack against you and Talon. Brigitte's jaw was clenched, like a dog ready to bite at the hand that strikes them. And yet, you couldn't help but notice how soft they were. They looked as though they were sculpted to compliment her perfectly; she definitely had the best genes in the Lindholm family. The way they were both infuriating and still alluring to you was torture - all you needed to do was drop the knife deep into her beating heart, and finish your mission. And yet, your gaze was fixed onto her lips, as though you couldn't get the feeling of what they'd feel like against yours off your mind.

And her muscles; usually you weren't phased by physical bodies - it's not something you paid no mind to. But the way hers reminded you of a roman legionary made your mind flutter with possibilities. You were left with the image of Brigitte training, her muscles flexing as she used machine after machine with droplets of sweat dancing on them effortlessly. The mental image of her drinking water to hydrate, with it dripping down her slightly exposed chest, making it wetter than it already was. Florescent lights of a gym studio making her skin glisten and shine, emphasising her strength and determination even more. It was deadly and left your mind foggy with a mixture of admiration and lust. You detested what she was doing to you by simply existing.

This toxic feeling you were inflicted with by Brigitte was spreading, like a viral infection taking over your mind and body. Your heart was racing, your mind foggy, and you were overwhelmed with the woman in front of you - defenceless, accepting her death and watching in agony as she calculated her next moves. "Keep your eyes on that and not on me. I’m not here to entertain you." She continued biting at you, but with a hint of annoyance littered in her words. Brigitte's head tilted upwards slightly, indicating she was watching the dagger hold unsteadily above her this entire time. While your eyes were left on her, she was determined to watch your weapon. You were left wondering why was she still speaking to you, when you payed her no mind to reply? Was she enjoying this? Buying herself time possibly? It helped ground you though, and you were finally thankful for her inesent need to fight however she could.

And so, you slowly brought your dagger down, piercing through clothing and you could feel the resistance you knew was her delicate but rough skin. Brigitte winced and cried out, her body jolting as you continued pushing slowly but now steadily. All you could think of now was your goal, as you kept your eyes shut. You knew if you opened them and watched her as you took her life, you'd be enamoured with her once again. You couldn't take that risk. That was, until you saw them.

Lights scattered across you both from the air, you had ran out of time. Overwatch was here and ready to ambush you to rescue Brigitte. She screamed out, continued thrashing with energy she must've conserved while you were foolishly watching her. All you could do was hurry off her; the job couldn't be completed and you couldn't risk finishing her off without Overwatch capturing you. It was vexing, to say the least, but you had no other choice. You climbed off her and began to run, with her watching you leave still laying on the ground. You left her stunned and bleeding through her armour, with laboured breaths and a scattered mind flashing in and out of consciousness. All she could do was focus on her breathing, as she was surrounded soon after by her teammates, all focused on keeping her alive and helping her back to Overwatch HQ. You watched from the shadows, making sure it was safe to go back to your own escape and back to Talon. You were ready to face the consequences, and mentally prepared yourself for the punishment waiting for you for letting a feeble woman pollute your once clear mind.

You didn’t need to do this, you knew it, everyone in the room did. But it was a dare from Cassidy of all people, and you wouldn’t back down from that. And the money you’d get only added fuel to the fire.

Not that you realized, but he would’ve given it to Brigitte anyways. He would never let Mitzi stay in any sort of pain, then you started complaining about it to him. How ‘You didn’t have the money’ and ‘If he could help?’

“Course I can Y/N,” Pausing his words as someone else entered the room, it was Angela. “For a price.”

“What? Like money, I was just sa–”

“No, not money, here let me show ya.”

Standing, he walked to the kitchen, searching through the cabinet's contents before pulling out a bottle of… liquid. It was a faint yellow.

“What is that? And why do you have it?!”

“It was for a dare a while ago, ‘cept we never got around to it. Was gonna use it to bother Morrison but now you’re here.”

Walking back to the living room as he opened the bottle, holding it away from himself as the smell wafted around. It was so bad that you had to turn around and step away for a few seconds.

“God, that is awful…”

“If you don’t want that money I’ll just put this away…”

“NO! Just, give me a shot.”

A small smile showed on his face as he reached for a nearby shot glass, pouring the liquid into it. His rough shove had some of it tip onto the table, lifting the glass towards your mouth.

At that time Brigitte entered, staring right at you. The mixture burned on its way down, hopefully you wouldn’t feel it again on its way up later. Slamming the glass down as you panted, Brigitte rushing over to you.

“What was that?”

“A bet is a bet,” Cassidy reached into his pockets to pull out the wad of cash, dropping it in front of you. “But I got to go.”

Tipping his hat before walking out of the room, leaving you, Brigitte and Angela.

“You idiot, why would you do that?” Grabbing the money to place it in her hands, “That’s for Mitzi.”

She has such a sweet tooth, especially for your food.

So she won’t deny anything you make her.

If they are covered in anything, she’ll definitely make a mess.

She’ll try convince you to clean up so she can lean in for a kiss.

Same thing happens with the filling, but she makes sure she cleans that up.

***

It’s been hours since your girlfriend stepped foot into her office, meaning you haven’t seen her once during this time. So you took advantage of this, spending these hours making something for her and you to enjoy. Paczki.

But you honestly forgot how long they took to make, although it didn’t stop you from making a second batch. In which she caught you making, rather deep-frying. You were busy dropping some in before pulling away so as not to get burnt.

As you dropped another one in, arms slid around your waist, surprising you enough to drop the dough. Boiling oil flew up and landed on your hand, which you immediately wrapped in a towel.

“Are you okay?!”

Still in her arms, but Brigitte leaned over your shoulder to look at your injury.

“Yes, but you got to work on your timing.”

“I should…”

Smacking away her hand, as she was reaching for the, still hot paczki on a nearby tray.

“Don’t you get burnt as well.”