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therealrattlehead · 9 months

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Physical (You’re So): A Genji/Ramattra fan fiction

Summary: After a heated argument in the living room, Ramattra and Genji learn what they need to settle their differences once and for all

Rating: Explicit Content

WC: 8,000+, first 2198 words included in post, rest is available on ao3

A/N: Hello! Due to this being my first OW fic, it is a little out of character. However, I hope you still find joy in reading :]

Zenyatta’s house was nothing special to Genji. Maybe it was because he had spent the majority of his time there. The house was on a small piece of private land, not something that Zenyatta was very fond of, but was given as a sort of gift, though Zenyatta prefers not to disclose from whom. Genji’s best guest was the monastery, but he wasn’t even sure of that. The house itself was quite small, only having room for around three people, maybe four if someone was willing to share their room or sleep on the couch. The interior walls of the home were painted a golden yellow, though a few of the corners and other parts of the walls were chipped, revealing the white rock underneath them. Multiple decorations hung on almost every wall of the home: abstract paintings, maps, records, children’s drawings gifted to Zenyatta, anything that could go on the wall.

Of course, this was just the standard living area. Zenyatta’s room itself was quite barren, containing nothing more than a nice twin bed and a dresser that held nothing but bolts, screws, and anything else he’d need to tune himself up. Next to the bed sat a worn-down armchair with a blanket draped across it. The room wasn’t entirely soulless as there were a few pictures of those Zenyatta would consider his closest friends hanging above his bed and sitting on his dresser. Above the door to his room hung a picture of Mondatta in an oval frame. A necklace of large beads framed the picture.

Genji’s room had a little more character to it. Unlike the rest of the house, it was painted in soft, apple green. He had a twin bed just like his Master, which was decorated with a specialized quilt that was gifted to him from Zenyatta. He had a dresser half filled with clothes, the other half filled with tools and other repair needs. On the wall opposite his bed was a sofa, decorated in pillows once again provided by Zenyatta. Between the bed and couch was a rug. He decorated his walls with posters and prints, most of them relating to some kind of media that he enjoyed, from games to movies to TV shows. Of course, just like Zenyatta, pictures of his friends hung along the walls as well.

There was a third bedroom in the house, but it was never one that Genji had taken an interest in. The room belonged to Ramattra, Zenyatta’s long-time compatriot and someone who Genji was not fond of. Ramattra was not as sociable and open as Zenyatta, especially when it came to Genji. He was quiet, closed off, and cold. Though Zenyatta had told Ramattra that living with him meant living with Genji as well, it was almost as if Ramattra had tried to brush aside Genji’s entire existence. Hell, he could hardly stand to sit in the same room as Genji. If Zenyatta wasn’t in the room with him, Ramattra would immediately get up and move rooms as soon as Genji entered. Genji was aware that Ramattra wasn’t fond of humans, and to an extent he didn’t care, but still, a little part of him felt confused. Genji wasn’t even fully human, so what was it about him that still made Ramattra dislike him? Was it because Genji was at one point fully human, so Ramattra would always see him as such? Or was it because he took Zenyatta’s attention away from him? Whatever the matter was, Genji wanted to get to the bottom of it. Even if he didn’t care, even if it didn’t affect him all that much, there was something about Ramattra that needed to be figured out.

June 20th, 2077

Kumpur, Nepal

11:34 pm

The trio were sitting in the living room. Zenyatta was laying down on the couch, an elbow propped on the armrest and a hand holding his chin. On his other hand was a book, some human classic written many years ago. One Genji and especially Ramattra would take no interest in. Genji was sitting on the floor, the plush rug underneath him cushioning his seat. He was watching TV, catching up on a rerun of some Pachimari show, a special episode made for the start of summer. Ramattra was busy tuning up his staff, a screwdriver digging into the orb that sat in its hold. However, it was becoming obvious that his attention was switching between his staff, the show, and Genji. Genji could feel his cold, unfeeling eyes on him, even if they were covered by the snowy white faceplate he wore. Genji ignored him though. Or well, he tried to. Genji wanted to glance at him, just to see if Ramattra’s attention was truly on him, but he wasn’t wearing his visor. Even the slightest glance to the side could catch the Ravager’s attention. He knew Ramattra had already seen him as nosy, proven by the many times he’s been caught eavesdropping on Ramattra and Zenyatta’s conversations. Though Zenyatta had seen it as enduring, all Ramattra would do was let out a disgruntled groan and walk off. Genji was not in the mood to have Ramattra scoff in his face today.

So, Genji locked his eyes on the screen, letting himself get droned into the happy, go-lucky music of the show and the cute, simple animation style. He didn’t even know what the plot was, but he acted like he did. He would do anything, act like he could understand anything if it just meant that he didn’t have to look at Ramattra. Unfortunately, he couldn’t ignore Ramattra. He couldn’t act like he didn’t notice the growing stares landing on his shoulders, the shadowy claws of Ramattra’s gaze wrapping themselves around his neck, trying their best to turn Genji’s head and make him look at Ramattra. He didn’t even know if Ramattra was looking at him, for all he knows Ramattra could have left the room by now. However, that didn’t seem to stop the phantom claws of Ramattra’s hands from trying to pull Genji’s head to the side.

Genji had no choice but to look…

And Ramattra was staring right at him.

“Are you enjoying your show, Genji?” Ramattra asked, his head tilting downward as if he were trying to make eye contact with Genji. Even with such a simple question, it was obvious that the next phrase to escape Ramattra’s synth was going to be judgemental.

“Hmm? I mean, yes. Yes, I am,” Genji nodded, a somewhat stern tone in his voice as he eyed Ramattra down. He wasn’t going to let the Ravager win this.

“It’s a bit of a silly show, don’t you think?” Ramattra asked, turning his attention back to his staff, though it was obvious he wasn’t going to return to working on it anytime soon. He had Genji’s attention, and God was he gonna use it.

“Well, it was the only thing on.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I looked there was nothing else.”

“Really? Did you look?”

“WHY DO YOU CARE YOU’RE NOT EVEN WATCHING!” Genji hadn’t expected himself to shout, and it was obvious in the way that Ramattra had paused and Zenyatta silently set his book down that neither of them had expected it either.

The three stared at each other, silent yet tense.

“You dare raise your voice at me?” Ramattra asked, his voice quiet yet his tone stern and forceful. He set his staff carefully down on the ground. Zenyatta sat up but remained silent.

“I do not know what you expected me to do. You kept pressing me and I wanted you to stop,” Genji explained. He tried to remain calm, but the tremor in his voice vaguely hinted at the bubbling anger rising in his throat. His face started to feel red hot.

“So, you do that by yelling at me?” Ramattra egged on, leaning forward in his seat.

“I tried to stay calm,” Genji began to lean forward as well.

“Is that why your lip is quivering, little boy?” Ramattra teased. Genji hadn’t even noticed his lip trembling, but hearing it from Ramattra just made him pissed. He planted his hands on the carpet and sprang up. His hands balled into fists at his sides, his whole body shaking as he stared Ramattra down.

“Shut the fuck up! I know what you’re trying to do!” Genji barked, his face red and his temper beyond livid.

“And what on Earth is that?” Ramattra asked, standing up and crossing his arms. He began to walk toward Genji. Zenyatta stood up, taking a small step forward, just one more step away from being between the two.

“Ramattra…,” Zenyatta started, but Ramattra and Genji ignored him. They were too focused on each other.

“Don’t play stupid. You’re trying to make me look bad in front of Zenyatta. You wanted to make me angry, just to toy with me. If you want me out of the house just say it,” Genji snarled, taking another step closer to Ramattra.

“Tell me why the hell I’d care to do that?” Ramattra asked, his synth reaching lower, more gravelly tones. The display on his forehead flared a bright red and Genji was sure that if he was any closer, he’d be able to feel Ramattra’s cooling system pushing hot steam out of Ramattra’s body.

“I don’t know! It’s probably just because you can’t fucking deal with anyone else having his attention you big fucking Ravager baby-!” Before Genji could get any more words out of his mouth, a large, firm hand gripped the sides of Genji’s face, squeezing his mouth shut. He let out a harsh groan as he felt Ramattra’s hand squeeze his face.

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH, FILTHY HUMAN!”

“Experience tranquility!” Genji had never heard the monk become so panicked, even though his voice still had the same quiet, soothing tone. Before he could even blink, Zenyatta was between the two of them. Within another blink, Zenyatta had entered transcendence. The force of it shoved the two back. Ramattra stumbled back while Genji nearly fell back on the floor. Instead, he simply just hit the floor with his knees. He felt a wave of calmness wash over him, though his current hatred for Ramattra was still trying to boil through to his skin.

“Look at what you’ve brought into this house, brother! Look at the filthy and vile creature you’ve managed to drag in! I expected better from you, Zenyatta,” Ramattra growled, a large hand now pointing an accusatory finger at Genji. Zenyatta exited his transcendence. His arms extended outward, trying to create more space between the two of them.

“The only filthy fucking thing he dragged in was you,” Genji protested, pointing a finger back at Ramattra.

“Nothing I have dragged into this home is filthy. I brought the two of you here for a reason. Do not let me kick you out for a reason. Now, go to your rooms and do not speak to each other until the morning,” Zenyatta snapped. Genji had never heard the monk become so fed up, especially not when it had come to him. Zenyatta was usually calm, patient, and tranquil, seldom letting anyone or anything pound on his nerves. He knew it was the same with Ramattra, having listened in on many of their heated, late-night conversations, much to the two’s chagrin. Maybe it was just the weeks’ worth of silent conflict finally bubbling to the surface, but that didn’t stop shame from rolling over Genji. Even if it wasn’t obvious, Genji knew Ramattra felt shame as well.

Slowly, Zenyatta set down his arms, settling them to his sides, and once again the three were still and looking at each other. The moment felt like it was never going to end. The air fell stale and the room went silent. Genji just remembered the TV was playing, too drawn into the argument to even focus on it. It took what felt like another eternity for Ramattra to look at the two, scoff, and stomp to his room. The door slammed behind him.

“Are you alright?” Zenyatta held out a hand, offering to help Genji off of the ground. Genji grabbed his hand, slowly bringing himself up. Zenyatta held out another hand, helping to steady Genji as he settled himself.

“I’m fine, I just don’t understand what his problem is with me,” Genji muttered. He stood up fully, allowing Zenyatta to take his hands off him. Zenyatta reached towards the coffee table in the middle of the room, grabbed the remote off it, and shut the TV off. He then held Genji’s hands in his own hands.

“Do not focus on him, my student. He has been through a lot, he doesn’t yet understand the effect of his words. He is, as humans call it, of little empathy. Please, just go to your room and we will conclude this in the morning,” Zenyatta explained, rubbing over the smoothness of Genji’s knuckles with his thumbs. Even though his face plate was static, Genji could tell his eyes were trying to plead with him.

Genji could only nod, “Yes, sensei. Goodnight, sensei.”

“Goodnight, my Genji.”

A/N: Once again, you can find the full fic on Ao3 :]

#overwatch #overwatch fanfiction #fanfic #genji shimada #ramattra #ramji #smut #overwatch smut #ao3 writer #read on ao3 #ao3 link

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thepayloadisgay · 9 months

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i'm a different anon, but since you want to talk about genji, here's a prompt: what do you think are genji's opinions/relationships on characters other than hanzo? your choice of which characters

Always here to talk about Genji tysm.

Gency, Genyatta, Ramji below the cut.

(sorry they just kinda devolved into small relationship dynamic drabbles sobs. hope u enjoy anyway)

Genji and Mercy

(note: I've written extensively about Gency in the past. I think my opinion on their relationship has changed a bit lately. Or maybe this is just another vein to their dynamic I wanna explore :3)

She was the first thing he saw when he woke up. Eyes ragged. Everything ringing with a halo. Blurred. Missing edges.

He didn't want to see her again for days, but he had to. The manual to his blueprint; fixer to his malfunctions; fucking hand to hold when he couldn't get up off the floor.

A shadow he wanted to cut off. A new normal that was nothing but there.

She was patient, if stern. Kind, if insistent. Beautiful, if weathered, weary.

Genji started to look more one day. A day he couldn't remember it just became. He asked her a question that wasn't about his body, what happened, what's going to happen. It was about her. She'd stopped what she was doing and struggled to answer.

The next time he noticed, she stood closer. Her laugh making him swallow. She wore glasses when she forgot her contacts. They made her eyes smaller. Hoops in her ears. Matching necklace, bracelet. Stupid jokes that made no sense. Interests that bored him. Stories that made him listen. A voice that lulled him. She smelled of coffee. Sometimes when it was late, cigarettes. Her hair, rose.

Genji hated roses. But he wanted her.

"Let's test your sensors," she'd said, holding his hand palm up, pen poised.

Before she'd pressed, pen clattered to floor, discarded. Genji touched palm to the base of her throat, fingers spreading over clavicle, knowing beneath it was more than just bone.

"Genji-" A whisper. Reprimand.

He'd looked up, curious, his thumb the shape of her throat. Her eyes, closed.

She ran colder than he'd expected. An effect of her nanbots as she played god within, without. Whatever it was, he felt a shiver for the first time since waking up something else. And he wanted to feel more.

More.

"I can feel a pen."

Angela ran a finger along his hairline, along the stairway of scars.

"I want to feel you." Closer, that the words had stuck to Angela's lips, never let go. "-you-"

"Just tonight." She'd said. She'd lied.

And lied again.

----------

Genji and Zenyatta

"I haven't seen you all morning."

Genji draws the whetstone along his blade, again. A mirror. Sharp enough to slice a breath. Too long since it had cut anything. But he still saw blood smeared at its edges, caught at the tip, smudged in what was left of his prints.

Sometimes.

For a while it had been clean. A reflection of his mind, growing soul.

"Couldn't sleep."

Zenyatta lowers from his hover, taking a seat on knees beside Genji, palms to knees.

"Your eyes do look, heavy."

"I know you're kindly saying I look like shit."

Zenyatta turns his head. "Hmm."

Scratch of the whetstone.

Hum of Zenyatta's orbs. Two, hover Genji, and he barely notices. just a normal comfort now that gravitate towards his melancholy. Scorching away the weight so it's easier to walk, stand, or simply, breathe.

"Some of us have learned a mimic of your sleep, here," begins Zenyatta, the sound of Genji's whetstone rhythm, rhyme, "a sort of deep meditation. Even a dream."

Geni glances to the side, only his eyes visible this morning, his faceplate security. Comfort.

"What do you dream of, master?"

Genji knows there's a smile. "Oh, that would be telling."

Genji keeps drawing his whetstone, but the motion's slow. His shoulders sag. Eyes, dull. A slow sigh and he uncrosses legs, stretching them across the ground, wiggling sore ankles, unmoved for hours.

"Sleep, Genji."

"What?"

The orbs around Genji circle once. Settle above, humming something Genji feels is warmth, want.

And soon, he's closer beside Zenyatta, head lolled against shoulder. The metal, edges, softened by the shawl draped, as if expectant. As if this has already happened before.

"Maybe we'll both dream, again. And compare...notes."

"Maybe." Is the last thing Genji says, a weight against Zenyatta, a hand on his master's thigh.

----------

Genji and Ramattra

"Why do you care so much about what they think?"

Ramattra. Cross legged, at ease as an emperor throned, dancing one of Genji's shurikens between his fingers.

Genji secures his faceplate, headplate, running a finger along a nick in one the ears, ignoring Ramattra.

"I mean," flicks the shuriken again. Genji almost snaps it out of his hand, "you are hideous. But humans -never mind their opinions- matter nothing."

"Why are you talking to one, then?"

"Are you one?" Flick.

Arm half in hoodie, he stops. Stares at one of the cracked mirrors he'd bought from the villages below after much encouragement from Zenyatta. There's no eyes that look back. Face, obscured. Hair, beneath. There are limbs, four. But humans aren't the only bipeds around here. He breathes, though. Eats. Drinks. Dreams (they do too, they say). Fucks (you're not alone in that, boy).

He could be human in that mirror.

He could not.

Genji pulls the rest of his hoodie on, cats with swords and lasers. There's holes in the wrists he's made for his thumbs. It's stretched from when someone else tried it on.

"You want me thrown off Shambali because I'm human," he snaps his head to Ramattra, "yet you question if I really am one."

"You say your heart beats," another flick of the shuriken, but this time towards Genji who catches it between two fingers, "but it wouldn't without all that metal, wires and wonder that makes me."

The shuriken sinks into the wood beside Ramattra's head, but not before it nicks a line of his face, a scratch through the purple.

Just, enough.

"I bleed, you don't."

Ramattra laughs. It's music. "And where exactly do you still bleed?"

It's a question that needs no answer. It's a taunt that wants one.

He doesn't know when Genji got here, foot to Ramattra's knee, and he leans forward, picking the shuriken from beside his head with a ting.

"You want to find out?"

Ramattra wonders how hard he can stretch that throat before it snaps; those thighs before they pop; how much he really does need left, to breathe, to bleed, be-

#genji shimada #gency #genyatta #ramji #angela ziegler #zenyatta #ramattra #ask des #des writes #it's genji shimada hours

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