Finally, after a small delay, Iâm finally doing as promised and dipping my toes into my first follower milestone event! I have 150 (to be exact, 152) people following this writing side blog of mine, and though thatâs not exactly a massive number, itâs huge to me! I never imagined getting anywhere close to where I am, and I appreciate every single one of you so much for allowing me to take up some of your time with my ideas put into words. Now, letâs get to the fun stuff!
Drabbles based on Ben Barnes characters with images as prompts, anyone?When you click on the read more below, I have 12 images under the cut. All you have to do is choose a number and send an ask with the number of the image you choose as well as the character you want me to write a drabble for with your image in mind. Images will be no longer up for grabs once theyâre chosen, and will be marked as such. For more details, please click!
Short list of specifics:
Find an image that piques your interest.
Choose your Ben Barnes character: Billy Russo (season 1 or 2), Ryan Brenner, or Benjamin Greene
Send me an ask with the number of the image you chose and the character youâd like your drabble to include
Once drabbles are written, youâll be tagged as theyâre posted (unless your request is anonymous. Thank yâall, and have fun!
ETA: Sorry, everyone, but over half of my requests so far have been for Billy, so Iâm putting a cap on our favorite sociopath. Ryan Brenner and Benjamin Greene are still up for grabs!
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Hey love! Iâm so happy to see a new blog and I can feel that youâre already a favorite ;). Ok so, Iâm a 5â10 Mexican girl with a sharp tongue. I have a big heart and always help where I can. Iâm tough when I need to be and I donât let people walk over me, choosing to call them out loud af. Some of my hobbies are reading, having adventures with my friends, and learning about history. Can I have this be with s76? (Or anyone who you think would fit me bc tbh idk how to match myself) thank you!! <3
          HOW WOULD THEY BREAK YOU? ( CLOSED )  -  13 / 21
Having adventures with your friends? Are you guys like, slaying dragons? Fighting crime? Getting lost on the subway system in the rough part of town?
I guess the only important question here is: can I come with? I want to have adventures.
Rating: Sa/fe for W/ork
Warnings:Â Extreme social isolation, emotional abuse, nonconsensual use of drugs, needles/medical equipment, implied drug dependency, military themes, physical exertion, use of a shock collar. Jack is a little too methodical and efficient with this shit, but if weâre being honest thatâs really not surprising.
                   ---------------------------------------------------------
SOLDIER 76:
Why heâd work well with you: (because I do think he would!)
- Part of what draws him to you is your earnest, empathetic heart. Normally that soft, giving attitude would be found on someone sensitive and understated, but youâre a hell of a far cry from a pushover. You stand up for yourself (and even others) without a second thought, and he canât shake his fascination with that easy, natural strength.
- Perhaps, in some ways, you remind him of who he used to be.
- Taming you will be one of the greater challenges heâs faced in life, but he didnât survive the Enhancement Program for lack of will and fortitude. He overcame the serum, he overcame the collapse of Overwatch, and heâll overcome you, too.
- There may be some bloodshed between the two of you, in that you are so like Gabriel that sometimes he just loses it. But every time you hold your own, he remembers why he had to have you.
- Although your thirst for mental stimulation, for information, may run you into some trouble with 76, it also makes you quite adept at solving the puzzle that is him. Once you get a handle on his personality, his moods, and, maybe if you play your cards right, his history-- youâll find yourself equipped not only to handle him, but to hold your own as well.
- If all ends well, the two of you will be on the same level, able to keep each other engaged and challenged.
                  ---------------------------------------------------------
How heâd break you:
- In many ways, your life begins a lot like youâve entered a bootcamp you definitely did not enlist for.
- For the first few weeks, you donât even see your captor. An alarm blares shrill and angry in your eardrums at fuck oâclock in the morning (or at least, you assume it is. thereâs no natural light to indicate time), and a bodiless voice pushes you through a series of menial, exhausting physical tasks.
- The handy little collar secured around your neck ensures that itâs in your best interest to obey. On days youâre particularly unruly or rebellious, the labor drags on for hours longer than usual. When dinner comes through the little slot in the door thatâs built like itâd be the last thing standing in a nuclear fallout, itâs a gray, tasteless gruel.
- You shiver through the night on a cheap, scratchy cot with a thin, standard-issue infantry blanket, and you start to wonder if you actually have somehow ended up in a military prison.
- The voice is not sympathetic to your questions, and is overall unresponsive. Your only indication of being watched by a real human being, is the jarring zap your collar delivers when you misbehave.
- And then, after so long that youâre sure your missing persons posters have begun to peel off their walls and bulletin boards, hope lost and then forgotten-- your meals begin to improve. Less meatloaf and veggie loaf and other loafed atrocities, and more meals that have flavor. Meals that leave you feeling full and sated.
- After one particularly filling dinner, you feel groggy. Unbalanced, nauseous, weak in the knees. Distantly, you think you should have known better than to trust this new development.
- You wake up to a soft bed and a warm body spooning you from behind. When you think to fight, jerking away and thrashing, thereâs a deep sigh and a sleepy grumble from the stranger. You recognize that voice, dread filling you to the core, and before you can do much more than scramble to your feet, he has you wrestled down to the floor with the cap of a syringe in his teeth and a needle in your shoulder.
- This time whatever he gives you isnât strong enough to knock you out, but you canât do much more than feebly stumble towards any door you can find. Theyâre always locked, but you try and try until large, firm hands steer you away. The world is a hazy mess, pieces of memory constantly shifting like snapshots of a dream.
- Youâre certain no one is looking for you anymore, and no matter how much you hate him, how much you loathe him, the man that haunts you in this nightmare is the only human youâve seen in months. Maybe longer.
- He holds you close when you canât fight him, rubs gentle hands over your back and shoulders and lets his simple touch remind you how bone-achingly lonely you are.Â
- When he starts to ease you off the sedatives, it doesnât take long for you to notice. Suddenly the world isnât cloudy, everything is so crisp and clear and loud and bright, and half of you wants to run until your legs give out while the other half wants to curl back up underneath that blanket of soothing, muffled fog.
- He tells you itâs going to be alright, you just have to adjust to things normally again. Says you might be in withdrawal, but youâll get through it. Both of you.Â
-Â Paltry resistances wrack the tenuous relationship heâs forming with you, but whenever you fall asleep on the bathroom floor, exhausted from crying and from feeling everything and nothing at all, you wake up the same as you did that first morning.
- Privileges come slow and steady, a book here and a movie there. Things to do while heâs gone. He even tolerates some pushback, will entertain an argument, even a fight or a struggle. Although heâs wearing you down hard and mercilessly, he does have fun when that sharp-tongued personality begins to show itself once more.
- However, stepping over the line once or twice too many times has you waking on a rickety cot in a sealed room, familiar band around your neck. It doesnât matter when you sob or beg or rock on your heels for hours, curled in a ball on the floor. You serve your sentence in his hellish bootcamp, for however long his whims have decided. You never know how long it will be, only that you have no choice but to endure until heâs satisfied.
- And when you return to waking in that familiar bed, comfortable and warm and finally not alone, you begin to wonder if resistance is worth the price- or if this is really so bad, after all.
(Not sure if the character thing is still open cause timezones are a nightmare, just delete this if they aren't) I'm someone who finds it hard to trust people, cynical and doubtful of people( takes years to be considered a friend). Easy to guilt with really low self esteem. Pretends to be strong and independent but deep down I crave love and affection but am just too self conscious to admit it. I hate physical pain and am ridiculously stubborn, but loyal to a fault when trust is gained. McCree
   HOW WOULD THEY BREAK YOU? ( CLOSED )  -  12 / 21
No worries, friend! Itâs your lucky day, though- youâre the first HC request to be filled after my absence!
Rating: Sa/fe for W/ork
Warnings:Â Â Emotional manipulation, guilt-tripping, isolation, emotionally abusive behaviors, unwanted/forced touch/contact, kidnapping, etc.
          âââââââââââââââââ-
MCCREE:
Why heâd work well with you:
- Long before kidnapping you, McCree sees how mistrustful you are. It hurts his heart that the world has eaten you alive like this. He resolves to be the one person you can count on, resolves to shelter you from everything thatâs made you this way.
- As an over-affectionate, touchy-feely kind of guy that need for love and reassurance will be filled to the brim without you ever even having to ask. Heâs pretty intuitive with people, and has that special knack for just knowing when someone has a front up. Heâll let you pretend, at least for a little while, but youâll never go for long without being physically accosted.
- McCree tends to grow on people like a fungus, and that charisma can easily be redirected to earn someoneâs trust. With the right company, heâs as loyal as they come. Once you realize how dedicated he is to you alone, it will only be a matter of time until he wins your trust.
          âââââââââââââââââ-
How heâd break you:
- You have all the freedom in the world- so long as you stay put inside. Heâs found a nice, isolated spot, but it still wouldnât do to have you running off into the middle of nowhere to get yourself lost or hurt.
- He doesnât withhold privileges, doesnât make you bargain to have your needs met. The only downfall is the inescapability of him. Everywhere you turn, heâs present. The house heâs found is small; a little run-down but solidly built. And thereâs nowhere you can go where he isnât.
- Rescuing you was a little more rushed than well-planned, and certain parts of the house are in a state of disrepair. McCree tasks himself with fixing it up, with the hopes of enlisting your reluctant help. He underestimates your stubborn streak, but it only adds the thrill of a challenge.
- With a tweaked approach in mind, he decides the two of you are going to play house together. He returns to the house with armfuls of groceries, paper bags packed with real ingredients instead of the canned and dried goods he favored before. If you want food, he decides, youâre going to have to cook it.
- When you start making meals for yourself, he begins mercilessly guilt-tripping you. If you donât make enough for the both of you, McCree doesnât eat at all. And, he reminds you, if he dies of starvation, how will you ever make it through those fancy locks heâs got installed on the doors?
- McCree toughs out a few days of going hungry, and eventually the guilt gets to you. You cook for the pair of you, and he fixes up the house. Itâs domestic and peaceful enough to warm his heart, and the tension begins to bleed out of him.
- In the evenings he relaxes like an oversized cat, pulling you onto the sofa to snooze together. Even with the initial hissing and spitting you tend to put up, heâll just wrap himself around you and doze off until youâve settled in.
- Affection is no rare commodity, and heâll pepper you with little touches and gestures throughout the day. Ruffling your hair in passing, brushing a hand across your lower back, resting an arm over your shoulders on the couch. At night he pulls you into bed and holds you close, abstaining from anything but whispering soft reassurances in your ear.
- Slowly he works on building up your self-esteem. Itâs a hard road, because so much of it is in your hands, in how receptive you are. Given your stubbornness and the suspicion and wounds you already carry, he wants no part of breaking you down. Instead, he builds you up, lets you crave him because heâs the only other person in your life period that matters.
- When heâs satisfied with the progress youâve made, he disappears for several days. Lets you worry, lets you wonder. Lets the fear and the loneliness build until you realize how badly you need him- not just to survive, but how much you need his presence. His words, his gentle touch, his reassurances and husky laugh.
- In the end, all McCree needs is time. Time and affection. With enough of each, heâll wear you down until you donât need anyone or anything but him.
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hhh. yandere blackwatch genji hcs??? i just love him too much and his eyes get me everytime. also i love your blog already! good luck :)
aaaahh iâm so glad!! thank you! <3
oof. i know what you mean, though. genjiâs eyes will be the actual death of me, one of these days.
warnings: kidnapping, sensory-deprivation, social isolation, psychological torture, and genji.
                 ââââââââââââââââ
Blackwatch!Genji:
Genji doesnât know what it is about you that catches his attention, but you do.
The more he avoids the pull he feels towards you, the stronger it gets.
Heâs not above taking a detour during slow missions to track you down.
He only stays long enough to catch a glimpse of you. The satisfaction of finding you time and time again is nowhere near enough.
After months of inner turmoil, he finally resolves to take you. The sight of you hand-in-hand with someone heâs never seen you with before is enough to make up his mind.
If youâre willing to date a complete stranger, then you should have no problem with him.
You obviously need someone to watch out for you, anyways. Heâs seen the dark half-moons under your eyes, and heâs seen whatâs in your refrigerator. Donât you know how to take care of yourself?
Half a gallon of milk and week-old pizza were not how bodies stayed alive.
Youâre asleep when he slips inside, and he makes sure you stay that way with something heâd slipped from the infirmary, and not with any level of ease.
Genji keeps you blind-folded for the first few weeks. It keeps you vulnerable and guessing.
âŚAnd he doesnât want you to see him- or what he is- yet.
He almost feels regret for what heâll have to put you through to make you his.
Almost.
Youâre too perfect to let slip through his fingers.
Although youâre blindfolded and your hands are bound, he only gags you when youâre being too loud to put up with.
After all, the point is to bend you, and make you depend on him, not destroy you. Whatâs the point if you canât keep him company?
Even as you spit curses and threats during the day, youâre squirming with bodily needs by the time he shuts himself in his room for the night, finally free of duties.
Your every need depends on him to be filled, in some way or another. He loves that you try to fight it, even as he helps guide your naked rear onto the toilet seat. The shame burning in your cheeks is beautiful.
Genji is your world.
When youâre too broken and contact-starved to fight him at every turn, he lets you see his face. You donât seem to know how much you needed to see another human, because your eyes latch desperately onto his face.
(You silently weep, and wish that the piercing red of his eyes didnât seem so intent and warm.)
âSee,â He says, and guides your hands to his face. He smiles softly, satisfied as your fingers ghost across his jaw, âNot such a hideous monster after all, am I?â
You can hate him for as long as you want, but heâs all that you have.
can i please get some hcs of moira, mercy and genyatta with a female s/o who has been kidnapped and attempts to escape with maybe some light pet names and implied mommy / daddy kinks ? sfw tho pls
here you go! i hope the mommy/daddy kink dynamics have strong enough implications! ;w;
warnings: kidnapping, isolation, psychological torture, abusive relationships, nonc/onnsens/ual drug use, brain-washing, dehumanization, torture, and abuse.
Moira:
Moira does not have the patience for games- or so, one would reasonably expect.
But her patience is like a tough, reedy muscle that canât be snapped or broken, only flexed. And such patience has lent itself to an unnerving playful side of her that comes out of hiding when you least expect it.
Youâve tested her patience time and time again, but just when youâre certain youâve pushed her as far as sheâll go and your future is about to be cut considerably shorter, the corner of her mouth will quirk in a strange breed of amusement, and youâll live to see another day.
Although Moira is patient in the process of breaking you, in peeling away your skin and dipping her hands inside to see what makes you tick, to see how she can destroy it, she is not patient with you.
This is why itâs so unnerving to learn that she has a playful side at all.
The occasion is rare, but some days sheâs content to let you roam outside the walls of her lab, unsupervised while she works. You both know that youâre going to run, or at least try your damndest to claw your way out of the labyrinthine building and her hellish claws- but she doesnât seem to mind, even when you push through the unlocked lab doors like a starved dog. Youâve never succeeded, and you know she would never let you out of her sight if she had even an ounce of worry to the contrary.
Still, you try, because you canât let the sickening ball of self-hatred and helplessness in your chest consume any more of you. The day you stop trying to escape will be the day you are truly and wholly dead.
For you, the scant freedom is a frantic race to gather as much information as you can, mapping out the corridors by any means short of breadcrumbs. Steadfastly, you fight to memorize where each combination of turns will take you, and which routes are dead-ended by another taunting, locked door. For Moira, it seems to be a game- some strange amusement to celebrate after a long week or successful experiment. Youâre little more than a favorite rat lost in a maze.
The game may as well just be another tactic to break you- and you arenât sure that it isnât, because Moira is nothing if not pragmatic. Everything requires purpose, and perhaps cat-and-mouse serves her dually.
Each time she retrieves you, something inside of you splinters, and you donât doubt that she sees it in your eyes, raw and sharp. Moira misses nothing, and she has dedicated herself to your destruction. When she searches you with hawk-like eyes, her only intent is to shatter your thinly-stretched will as efficiently as she can.
Some escape attempts leave her eyes dark, brewing with the threat of a storm should you set a single toe out of line for the rest of the night. Her mood will flick like a switch, amused to dangerous in a heartbeat. You pray to the universe itself that the change means youâve gotten close to an exit.
Other times, sheâs found you with her favorite endearments on her tongue, her laugh dry and low in her throat when you fight your inevitable recapture.
(As if thereâs anywhere to go, anywhere to hide.)
You can always tell which it will be, given which names she chooses to call out into the empty halls. Her favorites are gaelic, you suspect, because their sounds are lyrical mouthfuls that you could never hope to repeat. A rĂşnsearc and muirnÄŤn fall from her lips in equal measure, but neither are her favorite, nor the true mark of a good mood.
âMy patience runs thin, a chuisle.â
Ironically, her favorite pet name means she has much more patience than usual, and you stand a better chance of keeping all of your limbs when she finds you.
(Once, you were brave enough to ask her what it meant. She hummed and pressed a kiss to your throat, where your pulse throbbed unsteadily. You supposed that was the closest thing to an answer sheâd ever give.)
âEnough nonsense. Itâs time to come out, sweet thing.â
Her light footsteps will be staccato clacks that echo through the halls, purpose in each step. Her voice may not change, but the probability of your survival does.
Some days, she appears in front of you and snatches your wrists before you can react to the shock of satanâs favorite scientist popping out of thin air like a demonic jack-in-the-box, and sheâll laugh dryly and tug you along, even as you fight and kick like a tantruming toddler.
Other days, you donât see her at all. You just feel the sharp pinch of a syringe in your neck, and the heady burn of both its contents, and knowing that youâre deeply fucked. As you crumple to your knees, gasping for breath, a pale hand will run through your hair, gentle, before jerking your head up by the roots. Her smirk will be the last thing youâll see, slowly fading with your vision.
âI donât feel like playing today, little one.â
Translations:
A rĂşnsearc - a passionate way of saying âbelovedâ
apologies for any bad phrases or translations. feel free to correct any of them.
Mercy:
Ever the gentle hand, she wonât harm you when she finds you.
The healer is relieved, holding you close, head tucked under her chin even as you jerk and thrash in her arms. Fight as you do, youâll never escape her embrace.
She vows to take better precautionary measures- sheâd only just gotten you here, and youâd nearly slipped out of her grasp already.
The fear and uncertainty in your eyes is something that can be healed through careful discipline and strict boundaries- once you understand the rules of your new home, once you know what to expect from her, that restlessness will calm surely and steadily.
Itâs the hatred sheâs at a loss for.
Hissing and spitting like a wet cat as she strokes your hair, gently affixes a padded restraint to your flailing wrist, whispers soothing words- there seems to be nothing that can calm you, even as she waits for the contents of her needle to take effect.
The struggling gives way to heavy sobs that wrack your chest, and she brushes the tear tracks from your cheeks with a slender thumb. She brings the digit to rest against your beautiful lips, watching with the worry of a tender mother as the wet trails are quickly replaced. You pull away from her, salty tears smearing your mouth. She sighs, and murmurs soft words.
âAlles gut.âÂ
âWeine nicht, liechben. Ich wollte nur helfen.â
You wonât understand her soft words of comfort, but they only feel right spoken in her mother tongue.
Mercy settles into the infirmary bed behind you, pulling you into her open lap like a child. A mild sedative has started to calm your tears and heaving breaths, and will soon help lull you to sleep. With her face hidden from your view, she allows herself to embrace the frustration that has settled in her chest. She allows herself to be Angela, desperate to soothe your pain, and sheds the professional, battle-wearied Mercy that scans you for injuries and rages that she cannot heal your damaged soul.
How can she keep you contained, keep you safe, without having to shackle you to something in her direct line of sight?
There are options, of course. Thereâs little Mercy doesnât have access to, but many of them are things Angela would rather not have to do to you. However, youâre intent on forcing her hand. Barely a week has passed and youâve managed to nearly slip out of the base altogether. It isnât realistic to have you in tow all day as she goes about her duties, nor is leaving you bound or locked away.
Besides, you had since demonstrated that you not only posed a risk to yourself when left alone, but were capable of escape when presented with the slightest mistake or opportunity. Constant vigilance was not a long-term solution.
She could chip you like a stray, or leave you under the smothering supervision of a training gym filled with agents. Soldier 76 would be less than pleased, of course, and she could envision him carrying you back to the infirmary by your scruff. Winston would make a perfect babysitter, though she had too much respect for the gorilla to reduce him to such. She was willing to bet youâd quickly make a nuisance of yourself, as well.
Reinhardt would be more than pleased to have a captive companion the perfect size for carrying with him wherever he went, but like the medic herself, he had duties around the base to attend to. Something akin to a babysitting schedule crossed her mind. If only anyone in the base would agree to that.
Angela sighed. Microchipping you, it was. It was the most feasible option, the equipment being readily available and the procedure as quick and simple as an injection. Perhaps she would be able to let you roam the base during the day, since your whereabouts would never be in question. You would be happier with the freedom, as well- or eventually would be, she hoped. Perhaps you might settle once you learned the base could be a wonderful home to you.
âEs tut mir so leid. You have done this to yourself, Igelchen.â
Translations:
Alles gut - âItâs okayâ / âEverything is fineâ
Weine nicht - âDonât cryâ
Liebchen - âSweetheartâ / a softer version of âDarlingâ
Ich wollte nur helfen - âI only want to help you.âÂ
Es tut mir so leid -Â âIâm so sorryâ
Igelchen - term of endearment that means something akin to âlittle hedgehogâ
german is one of the very few things iâm competent at! and god i should hope so after so many years of it. may frau sulley never have to hunt me down and eat me alive.
Genyatta:
Zenyatta is the only one capable of mediating Genjiâs love of punishing you.
Genji lives for breaking you after youâve misbehaved, and isnât above baiting you into stepping out of line, or setting you up for an escape attempt.
Zenyatta chooses to turn a blind eye to the habit, only sometimes intervening with a soft sigh (although you still arenât sure how he manages breath). More often than not, he chooses to see the antics as a way of testing your progress. There are more factors to consider than whether or not youâd taken the bait- that would only happen when youâd been broken in completely, and they have quite a ways to go with you before such was a possibility. For now, progress must be measured in another way.
And so, he considers the variables of your behavior: How long did it take you to give in to Genjiâs provocations? Did you hesitate before taking the bait? Did you attack, or verbally lash out? If baited to escape, did you hesitate before making a break for it? For how long did you fight Genji before recognizing you were outmatched, and submitting to him once more?
Youâre making very pleasing progress. He nearly glows when Genji brings you home from your latest escapade, guiding you firmly by the nape instead of tossing you over his shoulder, unconscious.
Genji keeps his mask on when he punishes you, denying you the human connection of seeing his face, of looking into his eyes. He knows you hate the cold, impersonal gaze of his visor, and fondly remembers the way you flushed red and took an unusual interest in the floor when he bared his face to you for the first time.
When heâs finished with his unique brand of discipline, heâll plant a knee by your head where youâve inevitably collapsed on the floor in tears, and pull you up by the hair to face Zenyatta.
The Omnic lectures you like a stern parent, and requires you to repeat back to him what you did wrong, and why you had done it. He has you recite the rules that were broken in the process, and why you needed them.
âTell me what you did wrong.â
âWhy would you do such a thing? Donât you understand weâre only trying to keep you safe, little one?â
âGood girl. Are you going to apologize to Genji, now?â
Zenyattaâs approach is so much worse than Genjiâs.
Youâd rather take the brutality and pain than the humiliation of telling them you were a naughty girl, and why you needed them to punish you.
Even though the sentiment itself isnât sexual, you feel dirty and ashamed hearing the words come out of your mouth.
âI broke the rules and was very naughty.â
âPlease punish me, so I can learn to be better.â
âI need you to teach me how to be a good girl.â
It takes everything you have not to choke on the words.
Zenyatta showers you with when youâve done well for him, and patches your injuries while Genji watches with crossed arms and a detestable smirk.
He waits for the two of you to finish before brandishing a thick leather collar in his hands.
The moment you see it, your eyes go wide and you make to run for it, but Zenyatta is already there, holding you steady with immovable hands.
Genji approaches, his grin far too happy for to bode well for anyone.
Straining against Zenyatta, you lean as far back as heâll let you go, but the wall of his metal torso keeps you trapped and vulnerable for the crueler of your two captors.
You screech and kick as he fastens the dreadful thing around your neck, cutting through your resistance like a knife.
âWhat, didnât you learn anything today? Arenât you going to be a good little girl for me?â
His words are mocking. He enjoys your discomfort and humiliation far too much. Zenyatta frowns, because heâs undoing hard-won progress by taunting you with the idea of obedience. When his partner is finished, he tries to soothe your shame.
âYou did well, little one. We are making progress, step by step. Be patient, and soon this wonât be necessary.â
Fat tears roll down your cheeks as Genji tousles your hair and kisses your forehead, pleased by the sight of you distress, his ownership banded around your neck like a strangling hand. Thereâs little else you can do but sob and slump into Genjiâs chest as Zenyatta gently releases you.
âThere is no need for tears, dear one. We will take such good care of you.â