« Avec un nuage de lait », qu'est-ce qu'elle pouvait m'agacer quand elle disait ça, avec un petit air hautain par-dessus le marché. Ce fut mon amie pendant plus de 40 ans mais lorsqu'elle prononçait cette phrase, j'avais envie de l'étrangler. À part ça, je l'aimais beaucoup.


Prompt: Can I have one where widowmaker just suddenly snaps at her, always bubbely yet oblivious s/o? And this is the first time she’s seen her s/o look genuinely terrified? Bonus points if s/o is fem :)! (I love the work you’ve done so far, it’s amazing!!)

A/N: Thank you!! <333333 Sorry if it’s OOC, I’ve never written Widowmaker before

Additional A/N: Pardon the google translate French.

“Amélie! There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” You bound into your shared room, grinning brightly. The woman in question glances up from her place on the bed, lowering her book slightly to shoot you an exasperated look. “You’ll never guess what happened to me on the subway this morning!” You move to sit cross-legged on the bed, absentmindedly placing a hand on her knee. You lean in to give her a quick peck on the cheek before launching into your story. Amélie furrows her brow in something akin to annoyance, though you’re too busy talking about your day to pay it much heed. 

Unnoticed by you, the displeased expression slowly grows more prominent, and her attempted hints fall upon oblivious ears. Honestly, she loved you to death but sometimes she wanted alone time. As you continue to ramble, her annoyance flares up full force. Normally a bad day would be made better after a chat with her bubbly girlfriend, but today, stress from a failed mission a few days prior, combined with the nuisances that were a few of the other teammates, she was about ready to snap. You must have asked a question, as you’re currently staring down at her with a bright grin on your face and an inquiring look. “Well? Do you think squirrels can feel hate?” 

She closes her eyes, counting to ten in French, then in English, then French again, but nothing works.

“Hey, Amélie, are you okay?” you ask with a concerned look on your face. You scoot closer, reaching up to tuck the bookmark into the novel that had fallen out of her hands. Grasping one in your own, you look at her with searching eyes, and suddenly it’s all too much. 

“Peux tu partir?” she asks, a hard look in her eyes.

You aren’t sure exactly what she said, but the irritation in her face reveals it clearly wasn’t anything nice. “Amélie? I don’t know what that meant, I haven’t learned that far yet.”

She lets out an aggravated sigh, standing from the bed. You leap up after her, standing in between her and the door, blocking her obvious attempt to leave. “Wait! Amélie! Are you feeling okay? Did I do something?” 

“Tout ce que je vous demande est calme!” Oh no. She rarely ever raises her voice, especially not at you.


“Why do you insist upon incessantly annoying me? Can I not have any peace and quiet?” The hard look is still there.

“I didn’t-”

Tais-toi! Get out!”


“I said get out!” You flinch back in fear, slightly terrified at the furious expression on her face. In the face of her cold unwavering glare, you feel tears well up in your eyes. She doesn’t seem to care. 

You turn and stumble from the room, trying to think of a place to go for the time being. You find yourself at a door marked ‘Roof Access’ and enter it. Moving to sit at the edge of the building, legs dangling over the edge, you let yourself replay over the events that had occurred in your head, shuddering when you think of how angry she had looked. You wonder how long she’ll remain mad for. You want nothing more than to go comfort your stressed girlfriend, though it seems that at the moment, she wants nothing to do with you. 

The thought makes your heart heavy.


Later that night, you were sitting in the kitchen, nursing a hot chocolate and contemplating what to do. Amélie hadn’t spoken to you yet about what had happened, and you intended to give her space, if that was what she wanted, even if it was driving you mad. You were so immersed in your own woes, you didn’t notice the woman in question entering, walking to slide into the seat next to yours. Upon feeling a hand placed over your own, you yelp, almost falling out of your seat and/or flinging your hot chocolate. Looking at the cause of your shock, you’re surprised to turn and see Amélie sitting next to you, a remorseful look on her face and an apology on her lips.

“Je suis tellement désolé, mon cher.” You release your mug, grasping her hand in both of yours and offering her a smile.

“It’s okay, Amélie, I’m sorry for overwhelming you.” She looks so relieved at your statement, and your heart melts. You pull her into a warm embrace. You tuck your face into the crook of her neck and smile once more. Pulling back a few moments later, “Wanna go to bed now?” you ask gently.

She nods, and, hand in hand, you both head back to your room, hot chocolate forgotten on the table.

En fait, ce qui m’agace le plus, j’crois que c’est qu’on me traite comme une gamine ignorante qui a besoin qu’on lui apprenne des trucs. J’veux dire : Okay, on a toujours des choses à apprendre. L’échange, ça a ça de bon. On apprend des choses. Mais quand il s’agit d’un domaine que je connais comme la littérature ou le cinéma et pour des trucs que le dernier des imbéciles capable de se servir d’Internet correctement peut savoir, j’ai pas besoin d’un cours. J’ai jamais eu besoin de personne pour faire ma culture cinématographique ou littéraire. Je sais que je fais plus jeune que mon âge et qu’il est tentant de vouloir jouer les profs avec moi, mais moi, ça m’énerve. Je ne suis plus une gamine de quinze ans. J’ai pas besoin qu’on me fasse des cours sur des domaines que je connais un minimum, parce que je n’attends pas qu’on me les donne pour aller chercher les informations et me cultiver. Alors merde.