Work Text:
The workshop was practically empty, filled only with the sounds of slight movement from the one occupied desk.
Satya “Symmetra” Vaswani’s brow crinkled slightly as she observed her blueprints, golden eyes taking in the schematic before her. It was a design for something to better aid in battle, a shield generator that would be significantly more supportive than the shields she could manually provide. Though they helped when taking initial damage, this generator could be the turning point of any battle with a stronger and more potent shield to protect her teammates. Such a thing would be quite useful, if she could get the design correct and functional.
She stared at the light blue screen before her, assessing and critiquing her design. Something was off about it yet again, the corners of her lip tugged down in irritation as her eyes narrowed. For some reason, she couldn’t seem to get the design structurally appealing as well as functional. Such a dilemma was starting to irritate her, and she sighed as she took away the last few lines she had just put down.
The whole process was becoming maddening. She knew she would step away at this point to gather her ideas, but she was determined to have this completed by the end of the day. A break from her work would inhibit that process. She sighed and studied the blueprints once more.
The workshop door slid open suddenly, causing her to jump and accidentally jerk her arms which sent her pen flying back behind her. The familiar stomp-click, stomp-click provided her the answer of who just walked in and she felt a heavy sigh leave her nostrils. She didn’t bother to turn to acknowledge him, knowing that doing so would only invite him into her space and her mind where she didn’t need any further distractions. She looked over her blueprint in silent consideration, watching every line and every angle to discern what it was she was missing.
She was so invested in her blueprints, she didn’t even hear him approach.
“G’day Sheila!” he was behind her chair, tapping on the back of it with his organic fingers as he spoke.
She jolted, not expecting him to actually come up to her and speak with her. She did not want to deal with him right now, she was in no mood to do so! He was a distraction, an unwanted pest in her space and she wanted him out. She turned to him suddenly, causing him to stumble back a bit as she looked upon him with a cold and irritable glare.
“What?” she asked briskly. Her tone was calm and authoritative with an underlying sheet of ice beneath it. She was hoping it would deter him from any further conversation, but it didn’t. He flinched at her tone and his tongue grazed his lips a little nervously, though a grin spread across his face to mask it. She was a force to be reckoned with when angry, and he knew that, but it hardly deterred him.
“Well tha’s a foine ‘how do ya do’!” he giggled. Her gaze grew colder and he found himself straightening up a bit more. “Roigh’, well, I mean-”
“Junkrat,” her cold, irritable tone interrupting him. “If you have no reason for bothering me, I would prefer if you keep to yourself and leave me to my work. I have no time for your pointless chatter.” She turned away from him to face her desk once more.
His brows knotted in annoyance. “Oi! Me gobbin’ ain’ poin’less!” he argued. “‘M jus’ tryin’ t’-!”
“If you insist on continuing to yell, then please do it el-” She was cut off when she felt a couple taps on the top of her head. Her irritation got the better of her as she turned to face him once more, preparing for the tongue-lashing she was going to give him. But she was stopped by the item pinched between his organic thumb and forefinger, waggling it side to side. A look of annoyance was still resting on his face, though the sight of her cut off from speaking caused him to grin and the look of annoyance to melt away.
It was her stylus. She blinked and looked back to her desk, as if denying that he was holding hers. When did she lose it?
“Did you just steal that from me?” she sounded insulted, though her icy undertone wasn’t as prominent this time around. She believed such a question would cause him to start yelling once more, and she regretted her choice of words. But, his expression did not return to annoyance, but instead morphed into amusement and smugness as he erupted into his signature wild laughter. She straightened a bit more, her eyes narrowing. She did not understand why he was laughing or what he could have possibly find so amusing in her words.
“Tha’s an awful big compliment from ya’ Sym,” he snickered, his laugh beginning to to slow. “I may be good, bu’ I wasn’ even close enough t’ ya t’ do tha’!” He spun the stylus between his fingers nimbly, an entertained grin resting on his features. “Nah, found i’ on the floor nea’ th’ door. Though’ ya moigh’ like i’ back.”
Her lips tightened to a thin line and she considered how it could have possibly-
Right, when he entered. He had caught her off guard, and her whole body responded. She didn’t even realized that she had lost it, her thoughts had been focused on not only the project, but ignoring Junkrat as well. Her prosthetic hand curled into a light fist as it gripped the hem of her dress lightly, cursing herself for being so careless and unobservant. She met his gaze, his was smug and pleased as her own was calm and authoritative. She put out her organic hand, palm up, slowly.
“Yes, I would like it back,” her voice crisp and smooth with every word she spoke.
Junkrat hummed, twirling the stylus in his hand still. His prosthetic coming to rest on his chin as he gave her a deliberating look, eyes narrowed with one knotted and the other raised. She straightened a bit more, feeling a small heat rise to her ears as her eyes narrowed. Why was he just staring, why wasn’t he speaking or giving her back the stylus?
“Junkra-”
“Dunno Sym,” he finally answered, his expression now mixing to cocky and smug. “I woul’, bu’ ya see, I don’ think I shoul’, yeh?”
“And why not?” annoyance laced her tone, she was quite finished with his nonsense.
“Well, ya didn’ say ‘please’, now didja?” there it was, the teasing lilt in his voice. She glared as her grip tightened on her dress, and he put his hands up. “‘S only roigh’ ta use ya manners, Sym.”
She sighed heavily, “May I please have my stylus back Junkrat?”
His hands encompassed hers, his organic hand pressing the stylus into her palm while his prosthetic lightly squeeze the back of her hand. She stiffened, not expecting him to do so as she looked up at him and immediately regretted meeting his eyes. His warm, amber eyes burned a molten orange full of mirth and glee. He was enjoying this- she observed- too much. It was making her a tad nervous, but it was also giving her ample time to make observations. Like how warm his hand was as it pressed against hers, how that warmth seeped into her skin and spread like wildfire throughout her body. How under such a thick layer of soot on his face, she could make out small and scattered freckles dappling his filthy cheeks down to his shoulders. How his taut muscles were now outlined by the soot rather than obscured. His chest, his abs, his arms, he was much stronger than he appeared at first glance. And Gods, his shorts rested far too low on his hips. Her eyes catching the dip, paired with the very light touch of blonde hairs, that was cut off only slightly by the hem. The quick motion of him quickly moistening his lips caught her attention, which was enough for her to snap out of her train of thought.
Satya’s posture straightened fluidly, relaxing herself from being so stiff as her gaze became cool and calm once more as she met his gaze. With a slight clear of her throat and a soft tug on her hand, she indicated for the release. Junkrat blinked, not immediately catching her signal.
“My hand,” she said simply. “I’d like it back.”
His eyes widened a fraction in realization as he nodded. “Roight, sorry,” he released her hand, his prosthetic resting on the back of his head and scratching awkwardly. The release of her hand left Satya feeling a little colder than before, her prosthetic releasing her dress and taking hold of the back of her now freed hand that held the stylus. She gazed down at her hands briefly, assessing the feeling and the sight. She didn’t understand why she felt cold after he let go, but decided to ignore it as she looked back up to him.
“You have my thanks,” she said smoothly, her prosthetic fingers tracing the slopes and contours of her flesh knuckles. She felt nervous and she couldn’t discern why. Looking up at him felt difficult as she felt the heat rising in her face the longer she did so. Her stomach felt like it had dropped and while uncomfortable, it was not unbearable. Her eyes wanted to wander, her mind wanted to map out his curves, freckles, and each crease of his muscles. Her teeth met her the inside of cheek lightly, trying to control her thoughts and get them back on track. She had been staring, she realized, though he didn’t seem to notice.
“‘S no’ a problem,” he shrugged, his signature grin growing across his face. “Well, gotta star’ workin’ on m’ inventory, catchya lata’!” He gave her a lazy two fingered salute before he loped back over to his desk, and she observed his movement. Though the two had been working together for a few months, she only now noticed the hunch in his shoulders grow more prominent when he moved. The man himself was erratic, but there was a consistency with every stomp-click stomp-click he produced. Her eyes also caught the taut muscles in his back, making out a few soft curves that she could discern as his spine.
She shut her eyes tightly and turned back to her desk, forcing herself to stare at her blueprints. She needed to focus, return to her work so that she could finish her project before the next mission. She took a long, steady breath in through her nose then exhaled silently from her mouth. She held up the stylus once more and began to sketch small lines in the blueprint, not planning to keep them but signaling her mind to return to the task at hand. Her mind, reluctant to do so, complied as she began to assess the blueprints once more. Her eyes narrowed as she focused on each line once more, mapping out how she wanted the design to form.
Her organic hand began to feel warm once more, and she felt herself instinctively squeeze the stylus. But it wasn’t smooth plastic that greeted her, it was another hand. The long, warm, calloused fingers that enveloped her tight fist and coaxed her to loosen the grip. She complied, allowing said fingers to entwine between her own and squeeze together in what felt to be the most intimate handhold she’d ever experienced. She stared at the hand, studying it for a moment. Thin wrists, long calloused fingers with black nails, and a smooth yet scratchy palm that was blocked from view by her own. Her eyes trailed up to learn the owner of this hand.
It was Jamison “Junkrat” Fawkes, and he was smiling down at her with a look of not only warmth but awe. His eyes gleamed fondly, his expression holding none of its usual tease or manic tendencies. No, this was a soft expression that burned into her eyes and warmed her right to her core. Her stomach was doing flips again and her knees felt a bit shaky, a shiver worked it’s down her spine. She felt a lump develop in her throat as her teeth found her lower lip and began to gnaw lightly, heat burning her cheeks and ears as she held his gaze. She wanted to speak, say something, but words were lost on her tongue and stuck at the back of her throat. She could only stare, and he stared back.
She blinked and jolted upright, looking a tad bewildered. What… What had just happened? She looked around, she was still at her desk alone. She looked to her hand, which had been gripping her stylus so hard her knuckles began to glow white. She loosened her vice grip, lightly rubbing the side of the stylus with her thumb. ‘ What was that? ’ she asked herself, running her prosthetic lightly through her loose bangs. She didn’t understand what had just happened and couldn’t make heads or tails of it. One moment she was working, and the next she was holding Jami- Junkrat ’s hand. Did he sneak up on her? Did he take her hand when she was deliberating her schematic? Her eyes trailed to the direction of his desk, where he was hunched over, mixing chemicals for his bombs. He seemed so focused on this task that there was no way he could have been beside her and back at his desk in such a short amount of time.
She sighed, rubbing her forehead with the fingers of her prosthetic slowly. Whatever that was, it was enough to derail her train of thought one more. With another calming breath to steady herself, she gripped her stylus once more and began to absorb herself in her work. Yet again, she studied each line and every curve and function of her generator. She corrected a few structural lines, some inner mechanism functions, feeling much more confident in how the outline was turning out. She hoped this meant she was getting closer to finishing it, she was a tad tired of finding flaws with every other line. She deliberated for a moment, turning the outline around and studying it. Something still was off and she still couldn’t figure out what. Her brows creased and her eyes squinted as she leaned back to let her mind absorb the design.
She could feel warm air grazing the crook of her neck as she was staring deeply into the burning amber of his eyes, her breath coming out in soft shudders with his every exhale. He was so close, their faces mere inches apart as he hunched slightly to meet her and she had risen slightly to the tips of her toes. He was clean, she noticed, dirt and grime scrubbed clean off of his features. She could count every freckle that swirled into constellations from his cheeks, down his neck, and across his shoulders. Her organic hand rested on his good arm, trailing up slowly as she mapped out his freckles with her fingers. Trailing up his bicep, his shoulder, fingers grazing the contours of his neck before her palm finally came to rest on his cheek and cupped it softly. Her thumb tracing warm circles around a specific cluster on his cheekbone, feeling him lean into her touch with a soft sigh. His tongue absentmindedly grazed his lips, and she found herself drawn to the action. Would his tongue meet her lips the same way? The idea caused her teeth to meet her bottom lip as a shiver clambered down her spine, her eyes half-lidded and her cheeks burned with a deep blush. She could feel his organic hand shift and come to a rest on her cheek, the touch warming her entire body and she let out a pleased hum. She saw him leaning closer, eyes half-lidded, and she felt her body leaning up to meet him.
His lips, hot and chapped, pressed against hers, enveloping her with an indescribable heat that raged through her like an uncontrollable inferno. She melted against him, his prosthetic arm coming to rest against the small of her back and holding her flushed against him for support as her own coiled around the back of his neck to hold herself up and rake her fingers through his golden locks. She could feel his lips curl slightly in amusement as she felt him bravely nip at her upper and lower lip, rewarding him with a soft moan against his lips. That sound alone was inviting enough for him, as he continued to nip, pull, and suck at her lips with every sound she made. She could feel her lungs ache for air, but the need was immediately erased when she felt the slow dash of his tongue between her lips. A shiver coursed through her body as her own met his tentatively, a concept that was once abhorrent and sickening to her was now the single most superlative feeling she would ever experience. She desired more- craved more- her prosthetic tangled deeper into his hair as she dragged him cl-
She gasped, blinking back into reality with her eyes wide. She felt her breath heaving slightly, unsure of when she had started holding her breath. She wasn’t sure what had just happened, or even why it had happened again. What was happening to her, what was wrong with her? She held her forehead in her palm once more, trying to slow her breaths and ease her nerves. She was trying to work, trying to focus, so why did Jamiso- JUNKRAT invade her mind so insistently? It was beginning to drive her mad, it was disrupting her work and was unwanted in every measure. Yet, she found her body felt cold and craving for the interaction once more, despite it all being just a daydream. She began to feel weary, letting out a shaky sigh as she assessed just what was going on. Obviously it involved Junkrat, though she was unsure what he had to do with it. The thought of him being so close to her repulsed her usually, so why was her mind so willing to accept him now? Not only accept him, but to allow him to be so intimate with her? The thought caused her to blush and shiver as she recalled the fire of his fingertips against her skin and warm her to her core. A part of her felt repulsed and off put, while the other…
‘Satya ,’ she could feel the syllables against the skin of her neck as his teeth grazed the skin lightly before a sharp bite met the bare slope between her neck and shoulder. It brought out a violent shiver that wracked her frame, her fingers tangled deep into his mess of hair and pulled him closer. Gods his teeth hurt so good, she squirmed slightly upon her desk as he neatly inserted himself between her legs. Her thighs slowly wrapped around his waist to bring him closer, and he complied with a slow grind against her-
“J-Jamie…” she moaned softly to herself before slapping her organic hand over her mouth to muffle the noise any further as her eyes widened a fraction, her face felt hot to the touch. This was becoming too much for her to handle, too much to take in, and far too vivid to be just a simple daydream. No, this was becoming far too real, and she needed to leave before it got worse. Another thought crossed her mind as she began to move, Jamison was still in the room. She froze in horror at the thought, her teeth meeting her bottom lip, had he heard her? She felt utterly mortified at the idea of him hearing her of all people calling out his name. Her mouth felt dry, and she swallowed hard as she turned her gaze, very slightly, towards Jamison’s desk.
The man was still working, now carefully soldering his casings full of the explosive compound up. From what she could observe, he had not heard her small utterance. She felt a small sigh of relief escape her breast as she pushed herself to her feet, looking at her blueprint once more. She was disappointed that she could not complete her prototype this day, but she knew that she could not work in her current mental state. She made sure to save the prototypes’ progress before shutting down her monitor and setting the stylus where it belonged in the first drawer. She began to walk to the door briskly and silently, though she wasn’t unnoticed as she heard the chair from the other desk squeak as it turned to face her.
“Oi, ya leavin’?” Jamison asked, his head tilting slightly.
She did not want to speak to him, she knew nothing good would come from doing so. He had already wedged himself so deeply into her mind that she felt any further conversation would worsen the entire situation. Yet, she knew fully well that if she didn’t oblige him in a response, he would probably choose to follow her and never leave her alone. She sighed softly, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder.
“Yes, I’ve been here all day,” she answered smoothly. “I need a break.”
He whistled lowly. “Didn’ know ya knew wha’ a break wos,” he grinned teasingly, though it vanished when her lips drew in a firm and annoyed line. “Kiddin’ Sym, kiddin’! Don’ boi’ me ‘ead off!” He put his hands up defensively, his grin becoming more apologetic now.
“I’m am in no mood for your jokes, Jamison-” she immediately felt flustered by the utterance of his actual name as her eyes widened in horror once again. Her prosthetic hand clamped over her mouth as she looked away from him, unable to meet his gaze fully. Gods, what was wrong with her today?! Her errors were beginning to become too much for her to handle, her stomach feeling hollow as unease made it’s home in her belly. A silence passed between the two for a few moments before her eyes glanced up to see him. He was staring, a bit dumbfounded with a shade of pink hidden under the thick layer of soot, his grin had disappeared. She had to leave now, before the situation fell more out of her control.
She straightened herself up, cleared her throat and bid him a brisk: “Farewell,” before departing the workshop as smoothly and as quickly as she could. As she walked the corridors of Gibraltar, she kept her head lowered as to not draw attention to her blush. She needed to get her mind off of this entire mess, so she kept her brisk pace as she made her way to her quarters. Perhaps a shower would aid her restless mind back into a peaceful state of being. She sighed, hoping it would do the trick.
Luckily, Satya didn’t happen to run into anyone that would stop her to have a chat. Anyone she passed seemed preoccupied with their own business, offering a brief but kind ‘hello’ before continuing on. It didn’t take her much time to reach her quarters and lock the door behind her, exhaling a soft sigh of relief for her privacy. She strode to her small bathroom, starting the water of the stand-up shower before undressing smoothly and folding everything neatly. In a swift motion, she removed her gauntlet with ease and set it on top of her clothing gently. She checked the water temperature before stepping in fully and allowing the water to envelop her body, letting out a pleased sigh as her muscles relaxed into the water's welcomed embrace. She felt her mind clear as her fingers worked soothingly through her hair, her eyes closing as the warm water ran down her body and trailed down her every curve. She leaned her back lightly against the linoleum wall as her body melted in the warmth of the water.
Her breath quickened as the soft pressure of Jamison’s lips travelled down her collarbone, grazing her skin every so often with his teeth to bring a soft whine from her lips. Gods he was unravelling her so easily, and she wasn’t going to complain, especially not when his teeth and tongue found her breasts and chose to dote on them. Her fingers raked through his hair as he pulled soft moans from her, his name dancing on her tongue as she writhed beneath him. His mouth was impossibly warm, as if it were a fire that could consume her entire being and turn her into ash. And she would welcome it. He resumed his journey down, lips, tongue, and teeth mapping out her curves at an agonizingly slow pace. Her fingers tightened their grip, trying to urge him to reach his destination faster, though he did not comply and she felt the claws of desire raking at her belly and she squirmed beneath his touch. She felt him grin, that cocky and smug grin, and her nails dug lightly into his scalp as she felt his hot breath brush her waist, causing her to shiver deeply. She felt his fingers graze her outer thigh slowly, resulting in her following the touch slightly as she parted her legs. She felt a relatively sharp nip just below her waist, feeling his hot breath now grazing the coarse hairs and she pleadingly breathed his name once more. Her body tense in anticipation with his next movement, his lips and teeth now meeting her inner thighs sending her body quaking in desire for what was to come next. She could feel his hot breath upon her, her teeth met her bottom lip to only release when a warm moan wracked her frame as his tongue-
Satya immediately jolted and caught herself on the railing in the shower, her breath heaving once more and her pulse skyrocketing. She held her chest slightly as she looked around a tad bewildered, she was still alone in her shower. Her hand came to rest on her forehead, as she felt the throbbing desire between her legs pulsating and pleading for whatever happened to continue. She allowed herself to sink to the floor, the water falling against her frame as she closed her eyes. She felt exhausted, irritated, confused, and far too turned on to even begin to fathom why she was so insistent on imagining Jamison in such a way. She wanted to believe it was repulsive and unwarranted… but she knew that would be a lie. Truth be told, she actually… enjoyed it.
Admitting that caused her to scoff at herself, though it was involuntary.
If she was being honest with herself, she did not feel as if she wanted to necessarily sleep with Jamison, not yet. Though the visions that played through her mind were… desired, to say in the least, however, it was not what she wanted from him at this moment. No, she decided, she did not want that yet. What she wanted was to speak to him for once, without being guarded or short with every word he spoke. This madman had managed to place himself into mind so deep and so intimate, it drove her curiosity to wonder what kind of man he actually was. Surely, she thought, there was some method behind his madness. He had merits in knowledge, one has to know the compounds that are put into bombs to gauge the size and impact of explosions. He seemed to draw or write, she had observed his small fidgety movements in a notepad that he’d keep in his pouch whenever he was still too long. He enjoyed jokes and making himself as well as others laugh. There was so much more to him than just his love for explosions and lunacy, he was a human being, and she desired to know more about that human.
And while the rational and professional side of her brain scolded her and scoffed at even the suggestion of speaking to or fraternizing with this man on anything other than a work setting, she found her curiosity dominating her sense of logic. A man like Jamison “Junkrat” Fawkes was such a foreign concept to her already, he lived and breathed chaos while she was resided in the utopia of perfection and harmony. Initially, she believed herself to be repulsed by him in every way at first. Now, she was beginning to see a sort of magnetic force that caused her to drift toward him rather than deter her from him. Especially after today, which was now enough for her curiosity to reign over logic.
He was an enigma to her, an agent of chaos in her world of perfection, and she was determined to discover just how he functioned.