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okay-j-hannah · 5 years

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Countless Assumptions

The Marauders : Fic

Remus x Reader

Word Count: 1526

Warnings: Just the undying love I have for Remus Lupin - can you feel it coming off the screen?

Request: “Hi!~ I would like to do thought prompt 36. with Remus Lupin. I can totally see that happening. I am an introverted Hufflepuff with curly brown hair that is chubby and wears glasses. I love flowers, astrology, tarot, reading, and painting. Im not sure what im looking for but im looking for some Lupin fluff. Much fluff! Thank you so much!!💜💙💜💙💜💙” - Emily

A/N: You discover that finding out the truth was hard, but telling the truth is harder, as you realize that your absence has caused more grief to Remus than you thought

“Werewolves,” Lily deadpanned, arms folded.

(Y/N) slowly nodded, not giving up on her theory, “Yes, werewolves. It makes sense, Lils!”

“I don’t know, (Y/N),” there was a slight strain behind her eyes, but Lily attempted to keep her voice steady. “That’s pretty far-fetched. Don’t you think we would’ve seen something by now? How could someone hide that they were a werewolf for five years?”

(Y/N) slid her glasses back up her nose, “Because he has help covering it up! The headmaster has to know – and all of the Potter gang.”

Lily held her hands up, “Stop, (Y/N). I don’t want you running down endless conspiracy theories that’ll end up embarrassing you.”

“But how do you explain the one time a month he’s sick? Or how fatigued he is afterwards? Or the scars he has on…”

“I think you should just drop it,” Lily had a wide look in her eyes, almost like she was grasping at straws. “Why – why don’t you just talk to Remus?”

(Y/N) swallowed hard, finding the excitement of her research failing her instantly, “I may have been avoiding him.”

“I think we’ve all noticed that,” Lily sighed at the change of subject. “Do you have a specific reason?”

“If what I’ve figured out is true – that means we have a friend that’s a werewolf. How scary is that? I just – I don’t want to make him feel guilty for not telling anyone, you know? And I don’t think I can be around him without bursting with questions about it.”

Lily frowned slightly, “(Y/N), the whole group has been worried about you. They all think they’ve done something wrong. Remus thinks you’re entirely upset with him for some unknown reason.”

She clutched the books she was holding tighter to her chest when she responded, “They’re actually worried? About me?”

“You may be quiet, (Y/N), but we notice when you’re not there. Especially Remus.”

“I never thought – well, I didn’t think I brought much to the group. I’m so different from…”

Lily couldn’t help but laugh, “Just because you’re the only friend that’s not a Gryffindor doesn’t mean…”

“Not just that, Lils! I’m the only one that enjoys Divination, painting, art, stars.”

“You’re being ridiculous, (Y/N). Go find Remus and actually have a conversation with him. I know he misses you entirely too much.”

An instant splash of a blush crept onto (Y/N)’s cheeks as she adjusted her glasses again.

“Are your cheeks going red?”

“N-No, it’s just a bit cold in here.”

Lily smirked, “We’re literally sitting in front of the fireplace.”

“I’m going to go return these books in the library. I need to pick a few new ones for Astronomy anyway.”

And with inhuman speed, (Y/N) ran out of the Gryffindor common room and down the hallways to the library. Though she may be Hufflepuff, (Y/N) spent most of her time with her Gryffindor friends, finding comfort in their boisterous personalities. Remus always being the most reserved became an instant companion for her. They normally spent most of their time studying for classes or calmly reading novels beside one another. It was always a steady natural friendship that felt comfortable even in times when they sat together in silence.

Until recently. Developing feelings was never part of the plan. Neither was the friend secretly being a werewolf.

At the library, (Y/N) found herself waving at the ever-severe Madam Pince and skidding towards the shelves. She trailed to the corner full of information on constellations, astrology, heavenly bodies, and solar systems.

These aisles were nothing new to her, and within seconds she found the section she needed. She trailed her finger along the spines, admiring the weathered look on many of them. However, something unfamiliar obstructed her pathway – another searching hand.

Their hands met, reaching for the same book. And (Y/N) whipped her eyes to find Remus Lupin staring down at her. She could have sworn there was a flash of embarrassment in his gaze.

“(Y/N).” He stated quietly, retracting his hand and shaking his sleeve over it, “Fancy seeing you here.”

She swallowed hard, twiddling her fingers and finding her eyes gluing to the section of books beside her, “Yes, as you know, I never come into the library – ever.”

He gave a subtle smile, “What a lie.”

She dared a look at him and saw his contorted brow, “I’m sorry, Remus. I’ve got to grab this and go.” She picked the book off the shelf and took a step back, “Very busy, you know. Um… I hope you don’t mind – do you need this book right now?”

There was very clear disappointment in his face, “No… I – I was just finishing our planets map for Astronomy. Professor Trelawney wanted us to use one for our Dream Journals.”

“Right. Well, I guess I’ll…”

“Why don’t you want to talk to me?”

(Y/N) was at a standstill, one foot slightly behind her to exit, “I’m sorry, Remus. This really isn’t the time for me to…”

“It never seems like the right time anymore,” he kept his face downtrodden, his hands in his pockets. “You know since you stopped tutoring me I’ve completely failed every Astronomy quiz.”

It was like her heart was attempting a race with her lungs – each deciding to see which could move faster. “I can’t – I can’t talk about it, Remus. Not yet. I don’t want you t-to get upset.”

She turned to leave, but felt an immediate hand grab her arm, “But I’m upset now, (Y/N). I want you to talk to me – please. I haven’t seen you in ages and the guys say you’re avoiding them too.”

“That’s just because Sirius plans on asking me to accompany him on the next Hogsmeade visit. Something about trying to make a girl jealous.” Her eyes were flickering to anywhere but Remus’ desperate face.

“This isn’t funny anymore, (Y/N). Did James put you up to this? I don’t appreciate such a practical joke being played on…”

“No, no, that’s not it. Honestly, Remus, I just don’t think it’d be a good idea if I tell you.”

He contorted his brow further, defining a few scars on his forehead, “Did I do something wrong? It’s driving me crazy, (Y/N), please just…”

Madam Pince peered around the shelves and hushed them with a heavy hiss, her gnarled fingers pointing them out. Remus let go of (Y/N) immediately, not realizing he had moved to grabbing both her shoulders.

“I can’t stop worrying about it, (Y/N). It’s driving me up the wall and even Peter has stopped trying to make me feel better – all I do is pace and think aloud and wonder what on earth it could’ve been that would make you…”

“I know you’re a werewolf.”

He left his mouth open, his breathing hitching, “That’s why.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, “I didn’t want to make you upset.”

“I understand.” He turned his eyes away and clenched his jaw, “I can’t expect everyone to be comfortable around a monster.” He quickly walked around her to leave and she blinked several times in attempt to comprehend what he just said.

“Remus!”

She ran after him, ignoring the glare from Madam Pince. She trotted to his stalking figure, mumbling as she went, “Remus, you don’t get it.”

“Yes, I do. You’ve been ignoring me because you don’t want to be friends with a werewolf. That’s fine – you don’t want to be endangered by me.”

“No, no, that’s not it at all.”

“Then what is it then?” He turned to her dramatically, his voice much louder than it normally was. “Because I’ve run out of options. (Y/N), I worry about you more than I have about any other person I know. I don’t think I can function properly if you don’t give me a legitimate answer as to why you won’t speak to me.”

She bit her bottom lip, finding her arms limp at her sides, “I… you worry about me? I thought Lily was just…”

“What did Lily tell you?” He looked scared when he asked it.

“Remus, I didn’t want to jeopardize our friendship over knowing you were a werewolf before you told me. I wanted you to tell me about it when you were ready to – not because I figured it out. I thought if I distanced myself I wouldn’t feel the pressure to keep that a secret from you.”

He peered at her with a hard gaze, “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Why would I be upset you know what I am if you’re still alright with being around me despite my true form?”

She mumbled her next words immediately.

“What?”

“I also didn’t want to ruin our friendship over a silly crush.”

He paused, his posture and voice growing small, “Is it James? Sirius? We can still be friends even if…” He shuffled away slightly, a hint of regret in his features, “Even if you’re dating one of our friends.”

“Now that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” she was smirking now. “Because I was talking about you, wolf boy.”

His head snapped back to look at her, immediate hope in his gaze, “Really?”

~~~

Buy Me a Coffee?

#remus lupin #remus angst #remus fluff #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #the marauders #marauders #the marauders remus #marauders remus #remus lupin request #young remus lupin

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mz-hide · 4 years

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Trick of Might - Chapter 11

Aka: a Dragon Ball Z slash fic.

Chapter 11

A little breather from the smutfest with some plot in which Piccolo may or may not be onto something and Bulma is a barely-managing adult.

(Warning: contains a lil spicy VegeBul moment)

Summary: An ancient enemy makes a sudden comeback into Goku’s life. Long-suppressed memories surface again and it’s no longer possible for the young saiyan to ignore them. Warnings: Dubious Consent, (because of drug use) Ships & Pairings: Bulma/Vegeta, Goku/Vegeta, Goku/Turles, Goku/Turles/Vegeta, Turles/Vegeta, Raditz/Turles, Nappa/Turles, Nappa/Raditz/Turles Contains: Threesome - M/M/M, Group Sex, Polyamory, Aphrodisiacs, Secret Crush, Confessions, Enemies to Lovers, Love Triangles, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Gay Sex, Biting, Scratching, Boners All Around, Feral Behavior, (just a tiny bit), Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Content

You can find the rest on my AO3 page (username: originalmonkeyhydes)

It wasn’t as if Piccolo was truly intimidated by his former enemy’s wife. Chi Chi was strong for sure, but not in comparison to a Namekian warrior. He had no real reason to fear her. Even so, he found himself flying off in the direction opposite to the Son family’s house. Bulma had made a lot of sense when she’d suggested that bringing back the news of her husband’s disappearance and her precious child’s unconscious body in the dead of the night was something she might not have taken easily. And a Namekian’s hearing was very sharp, their ears very sensitive. Piccolo didn’t need to risk making an attempt to know it wouldn’t have been a good idea. Instead, he flew to a place of peace and quite, where he could watch over Gohan while waiting for him to regain consciousness. The air was still quite warm in the wastelands. A spot on the soft, tender summer grass would have made a fine enough place for his pupil to sleep for the night. He’d been used to it during the year Piccolo had spent training him, after all. Sure, in the morning the woman would have been furious, waking up to find both her kid and her husband gone without a word or warning. But if he’d waited for the sunrise, Gohan would have been conscious again and Piccolo would not have been there to hear it when he made it back home to explain the situation. The green-skinned warrior flew at a leisure pace, constantly, mildly aware of the monstrous energy radiating from afar. Cell’s energy was still obnoxiously foreboding even at such a great distance. The bug-like android made no effort to conceal his outstanding aura. So far he’d kept his word and let time fly by without causing any more panic. The world was already shaking with the danger of the upcoming tournament that would have decided its fate. Cell would be the type for self-complacency. Piccolo could believe he would truly just sit the entire month out without even making a move to re-assert his undisputed superiority or train. He seemed to believe he didn’t need to. And, of course, he was right. Even so, the constant presence of his aura at the corners of his conscience was making Piccolo beyond uneasy. What if that monster gets bored and decides to make a move while Goku is gone? Who’s going to face him then? As much as irks me to admit it, even having Vegeta around would come in handy right now. With those two idiots gone, there’s only so much the rest of us can do. We can still count on Trunks, but… He looked at the boy in his arms and felt a familiar uneasiness take hold of him. Gohan had grown strong. He had to remind himself the boy was now stronger than him. If he was stronger than Cell, that he didn’t know. Goku was keeping the details of their father-son training to himself, leaving Piccolo and all the others in the dark. If he were a betting man, he would wager the saiyan had done that not to give his friends too high hopes. Part of him wanted to trust the man’s secrecy, part of him couldn’t help but doubt him. Goku was a capable fighter, maybe the only hope they had to save the planet from the new menace. Piccolo had grown to know and respect him over the years, he’d grown to care for his son too, so much that their unlikely new-found friendship had eclipsed his ancient unconditional hatred. But how was he supposed to trust Goku now? The saiyan had just disapeared on them without saying a word. But even that would have been fine, if the distraction hadn’t kept him off planet for so long. This is the kind of reckless behavior that almost got him killed on Namek. He can’t afford to keep behaving like this when he has the fate of the world on his shoulders, he moped, gently landing on a plateau of his liking, laying Gohan down on the soft, fragrant grass. The rock still retained a faint trace of the scorching direct sunlight it had absorbed during the day and let out a pleasant glowing warmth. Even at that height, the temperature was still pleasant and the rock formation shielded them from the strongest gusts of the desert winds. Nevertheless, the Namekian took off his heavy clock and set it over the sleeping boy’s body to shield him from the chill of the night breeze. He sat down next to his pupil and let his eyes roam the landscape, absorbed in meditation. A slight frown creased his forehead upon noticing a familiar disruption of the otherwise harmonious skyline. There was an unnatural void where once had been plateaus and mountains, as if the land had been swept clean. A lot had happened since then and he hadn’t ventured to that place, but Piccolo still remembered where he’d died. He hand’t been alive to see the mountains crumble and rock turn to dust to know that was the destruction brought about by Goku and Vegeta’s first fight. Another wave of fretting irritation washed over him. Goku’s night escapade had been just the cherry on top of a cake of foreboding signs he’d elected to overlook. Lately, the man’s behavior had been debatable, to say the least. Since Trunks had showed up to warn them about the androids, something had changed. Initially he’d seemed to take the threat seriously. He’d trained diligently, pushing Gohan as hard as he would push himself. Piccolo had found his intensity fitting for the occasion. He could have almost sworn Goku had started being considerate, possibly for the first time in his life. He had suggested not to use the dragon balls to resolve the problem, so that Vegeta would have a reason not to antagonize them anymore. That had felt like a smart idea. Piccolo saw it as the next best option to fix the mistake of leaving the other saiyan alive. He hadn’t noticed that Goku was actually just being reckless. He had forgotten to take his medicine. He had forgotten his own life was at risk. And then, even after Vegeta had proven himself unworthy of trust, he’d kept spurring him on, going to the length of telling him about the hyperbolic time chamber. All the conniving, the teasing, the flaunting and the unexplained secrecy… Piccolo was starting to think it had all been a just a game between the two saiyans. And he sure as hell did not like that thought one bit. He lifted his eyes to the sky, brooding. Now that those two had gone and took to space together, he didn’t know what to think. Especially since the faint, ominous energy orbiting about the solar system hadn’t waned nor spiked since. Knowing Vegeta, there was a good chance he was going to take the occasion to test his power and stroke his ego. Knowing Goku, there was no way he would have turned down a challenge if the Prince had presented him with one. That was the whole reason he’d spared him, even after he’d threatened to destroy his planet and kill his son. Piccolo retroactively cringed in indignation at the thought. Saying he disliked Vegeta was saying very little. Though he’d grown to understand and respect Goku, first as a worthy opponent and then as something akin to a friend, when it came to his decision to spare Vegeta, he had very little trust in his judgment. And he was starting to have little trust in his own. He’d just let the saiyan go. He’d just knowingly let the proud, overconfident, delusional Prince of saiyans get to something that could potentially make him a serious threat again. If Goku had been wrong and the tree had produced fruits, Piccolo wasn’t sure Vegeta wouldn’t have consumed one and took the chance to take his nemesis out once and for all. He would have done it, even if it had meant he would be dooming Earth to certain destruction. He had a spaceship, after all, he could decided to leave everything behind him, if he wished to. Why wouldn’t he, after all? The Prince had put the whole planet in danger before. He was the one responsible for Cell’s final form. He was the one who’d allowed him to transform. His arrogance was what had doomed them all. But, more than that, it had been Goku’s fault. He was the one who’d pushed them all down that dangerous slope the moment he’d decided not to use the dragon balls. He’d wanted it all. And he’d wanted all that, he’d put himself and all his friends though it all just to keep Vegeta on the planet. But does Vegeta even care for that? No. All he cares about is to become stronger than Goku so that he can have his rematch and beat him. And he doesn’t plan to show the same mercy Goku has showed him. If he wins, it’s the end. All he wants is to beat Goku. So, why waste the chance, when he has a way to become stronger than him right in front of him, ripe for the plucking? He gritted his teeth. One would think that, after all the training they’ve been through and ascending beyond the level of a super saiyan, it would be impossible not to feel it if those two were to fight. I can’t sense anything like that. If they’re not fighting, then… what are they both doing up there? Gohan mumbled slightly in his sleep, turning to the side. His serene sleeping face was a nice distraction from his disturbing trail of thoughts. The Namekian put his worries aside, focusing instead on keeping watch over his pupil.

Her entire body was flaring with anger. Her stupid experiment wasn’t going well, sitting in the lab had been infuriating. Once frustration had gotten to her, her hands had started shaking, her mind had stopped reasoning but she’d refused to stop. And then the damn thing had decided to explode right in her face. She was lucky she had been wearing a mask of she would have lost an eye. Or set fire to her hair. Not that it would have been exceedingly regrettable, considering it probably look awful anyway. Bulma had been feeling uncharacteristically ugly for a while. She felt swollen and possibly constipated. Her clothes seemed to fit too tight and her skin and hair seemed to be more greasy than usual, no matter what she did. When she wasn’t chewing a gum, she gnawed at her nails. And to top it all off, there was a warm, tight, stirring coil in the pit of her stomach that just wouldn’t leave her alone. After handling the rest of her day so poorly, deciding to resolve that particular issue was probably a bad idea. But she felt too pent up to care. “My room. 10 minutes”, she demanded through the intercom. The holographic screens were probably showing a face as inviting as her tone. It was a good thing Vegeta was facing in the other direction, one hand behind his back and one on the floor, pushing his weight up with seeming difficulty. Droplets of sweat ran down his sides and fell to the floor as if they’re been made of led. Gravity in the chamber must have been impossibly intense. “Not now, woman, I’m training.” Not a tone she was willing to listen to right now. “I was working the other day but I had to drop everything and indulge you when you came looking for me, didn’t I?”, she insisted, defiantly. “You liked it.” Arrogant asshole. “You’ll like it too. Now get over here.” “I told you, I’m training. I don’t have time for your stupid whims.” “If you don’t come now, I’ll turn the gravity chamber off. You know I can do it.” “You wouldn’t dare-“ Bulma shut the communication off, abruptly. She wasn’t having any of Vegeta’s attitude that day. She accessed her remote control panel and shut the power down. It wasn’t long before she heard the Prince’s heavy steps as he stormed to her room. When he got in, he was fuming as she was. He hadn’t bothered washing sweat off his face and chest, nor putting clothes on. He was still wearing a pair of training shorts and the scent of exertion. To Bulma’s satisfaction, he also wore a look of astounded surprise the moment he saw her, already naked and confrontational, arms on her hips and head held high in a defiant pose. He staggered. A hint of color showed on his cheeks, and not from anger, this time. Good. “I warned you.” The saiyan glared at her, nostrils twitching. She could read tension everywhere in the stiffness of his body and a conflicting glimmer of interest in his dark, flashing eyes. By that time she’d had plenty of fights with Vegeta to know what kind of emotions confrontation stirred up within him. She could tell when she had already won. “Dammit, woman! Do you need it that badly?!”, he growled. “You’re lucky I didn’t increase gravity enough to crush you instead of turning it off”, she uttered, drily, pursing her lips. “If you play nice you might be able to convince me to turn it back on.” But of course, Vegeta wasn’t going to play nice. He picked her up -not as girls dream to be picked up by their knights, but like a potato sack, flung over his shoulder- and threw her onto bed. Her head spun, but she didn’t complain. The rough treatment was just what she needed right in that moment. Her legs were spread open before she knew it and her breath grew hoarse when the saiyan’s hand started touching in between them. “You really needed this, didn’t you?”, the Prince asked, cruelly, as she bucked against his palm. “That’s what I call you up here for, isn’t it?” The scientist whined when warm, calloused digits flicked along her lips, finding the abundant wetness that had bloomed within. She didn’t need much more touching and teasing before she was ready to accept them inside. Her hips tilted and her thighs twitched, feeling them curl against her walls, making her gasp. Vegeta compensated for the compliance of one of his hands with the other, pinching one of her nipples, hard enough to sting. She squealed and slapped him. Her palm throbbed from the hash blow, he’d barely budged. There was a smirk on his face when he pinned both her hands over her head. She didn’t fight against his hold. But she did press a knee against his crotch and cherished the spangled grunt that earned her when she increased the pressure. “You are being bitchier than usual today. And not in an attractive way”, the saiyan hissed, his voice deep and raucous. “But it’s working, isn’t it?” She could feel him swelling against the rubbing of her thigh. “It won’t work forever.” “I beg to differ. You love being kicked around.” “Not as much as you love playing with fire. What exactly do you think will happen if you keep riling me up like this?” “How else can I get your attention, when you keep avoiding me?” “I avoid you because I can tell you’re hormonal. You’re insufferable!” “Then maybe I will stop taking the pill, you asshole! How does that sound?”, she said, surprising herself. The Prince understood well what protections were for but he hadn’t been too enthusiastic about using them. He’d agreed to get tested for any possible alien disease he might have had. After the results had been happily inconclusive, their last bag of condoms had been left to expire on the nightstand. She couldn’t deny it, as much as she enjoyed letting him finish inside her, she had grown tired of the pill. Even with the superior custom Capsule Corp version, side effects weren’t worth it. “If it’ll tone the crazy down, then fine!”, Vegeta rebuked. He sounded as exasperated as she felt. “Alright, maybe I will!”, she threatened and bluntly yanked the saiyan’s shorts down his thighs, freeing his erection. “Fine, then!” “Fine!” She was so aroused she didn’t stop to think about what they’d just said. By the time Vegeta had slipped inside of her and made her whole bed rock under his forceful thrusts, her mind had been tacitly made up. Later, with her arms and legs wrapped around the saiyan’s sturdy built, cradling his head against her shoulder and feeling his heat spilling inside of her, her eyes had drifted to the box of pills on her nightstand and found resolve in her decision. A sort of primal, whimsical urge had found its way into her brain…

When her hand found nothing but cold sheets, Bulma’s head shot up, almost instinctively. She blinked in confusion, the heaviness of sleep still resting on her head, looking at the empty space beside her in the bed. For a moment, she’d forgotten. Vegeta never stayed afterward. He didn’t sleep in her bed anymore. Or was it she who didn’t let him? She couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter. She rubbed her eyes, trying to chase some of the tiredness away. Outside, stars had started to fade. Sunrise had just started to brighten the night sky. The day was on its way, but not quite there yet. She forced herself to slip out of her bed and look outside. From her room she could see most part of the yard. The landing strip where her spaceship had been anchored was still empty. Vegeta hadn’t come back. Or not to her back yard, at least. Judging from the time, it couldn’t have been more than four of five hours since he’d left. Still not a worrying amount of time. She diligently checked the security cameras around the house and then into Trunk’s room. No sings of the saiyan and her precious baby boy was still fast asleep. It wouldn’t have been too long before he’d woken up, demanding her milk. Nevertheless, the late-night snack from the night before might have bought her some time. And she knew just how to use it. With a relieved sigh, she let herself fall down on her bed once more, crawling under the sheets, baby monitor in hand. She figured she could slip in a couple more hours of sleep, if luck assisted her. She would have surely heard the spaceship engine when Vegeta deigned to come back.

#kakavege #vegekaka #vegebul #dbz fanfiction #dbs #dbz #dragon ball z #dragon ball super #my fics #Trick Of Might

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tentacletea-blog · 7 years

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Origins.

A glimpse into how everyone’s favourite trashman, Aaron, turned green…. Written by the fabulous @lamarcodon! - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - A brown haired human male in his thirties peered into an experiment chamber through bespectacled eyes. “Alright two-eighty-five, where’s my… Wow lil buddy, lookit you! You’re gettin’ so big! Look at you!”

Inside, behind a clearsteel screen, a translucent green blob roughly the size of a basketball trundled around the chamber. It noticed him through the screen and approached, making happy little gurgles.

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Some things were KNOWN: the darkening leaving the chamber meant it was time to stop SLEEPING and the sound of the door outside opening meant AARON was coming and AARON was the large SAFE creature who brought THINGS TO EAT and FUN GAMES and gentle touches and which all felt GOOD and AARON was a GOOD THING to KNOW.

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“Guess what Aaron’s got for you today?” the man said. He reached into his researcher’s knapsack and pulled out a container. “I brought you a surprise, that’s right!”

The slimy little creature pressed itself against the screen. Aaron could see its face—a wide, frog-like mouth splitting the glistening gooey surface of the semi-solid creature, and six golden-green eyes blinking in unison at him. From its amorphic depths appeared a pair of stubby little arms with tiny little working hands, pushing on the screen as if to move it out of the way.

“Haha hold on bro, I’ll getcha outta there… we’ll have some playtime after I feed you, ok? Gotta follow procedures.” Aaron opened the lid to the experiment’s chamber and dumped the thin plastic container inside.

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AARON was the best thing to KNOW: when he came in from the OUTSIDE he brought TASTY things to EAT and never asked to SHARE them and never took them AWAY and sometimes those THINGS could MOVE and that just meant that first they had to STOP MOVING before they could be EATEN.

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A live rat spilled out and scurried around its new surroundings, eventually going over to sniff the little blob of green goo. Aaron watched it pull the rat into its mass headfirst. The rat panicked and shrieked loudly as it was sucked in. Soon it faded completely. The little blob let out a content-sounding belch as it swelled slightly with new mass.

“Hehe. You were hungry, as usual… alright, c’mon out,” Aaron said. He opened the chamber again and lowered his arm down. The blob wriggled over, then started climbing up his arm. It flowed smoothly, undulating and rippling like the animate jelly-thing it was. It came to rest on Aaron’s shoulder and he laughed when it nuzzled up against his face.

“Every time I pick you up these days, you’re heavier and heavier,” Aaron chuckled. “I’ll have to weigh you… lil porker…” He reached up and clasped the blobby creature in his hands, lifting it off his shoulders to cradle it like a puppy in his arms. “Think I been givin’ you too much live feed, I’ll have to bring you some fruits and vegetables next time, heh…” he carried the little creature to his workstation and set it down on the table.

“You just wait there for a minute ok? Gotta make some notes…” and Aaron sat down at a swiveling chair, muttering under his breath as he typed. “Experiment number zero-zero-two-eight-five, growth is steady and rapid, eyes shining pretty bright today… arms and grasping appendages developing steadily after merging experiment last week…”

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AARON and the other LARGE INEDIBLE CREATURES made many NOISES with their EATING HOLES. It was KNOWN that the holes were for EATING because it had been observed. The NOISES meant different things. Some NOISES described the creatures themselves, such as AARON.

There were even noise representing it: “TWO-EIGHT-FIVE.” Or sometimes, “TWO-EIGHTY-FIVE.” Or sometimes, “LITTLE BUDDY.” And very often, “BRO.”

//////////

Aaron tapped a command into his keyboard and watched the blast screen opening, revealing a glorious view of the colorful nebula they were soaring through. “Look at that, bro. That view? That view is why I took this job. Right there.” He sighed, wistful. “Some people imagine waking up every morning to the sight of beaches or mountains or the forest, but me? I get to see something incredible like that, every day—hey don’t eat that!!”

//////////

Because AARON was so nice and brought THINGS TO EAT, it had no problem with AARON pulling the UNKNOWN THING out of its body. Apparently this was NOT a THING TO EAT, otherwise certainly AARON would have allowed it to be EATEN.

AARON had long appendages with which to grasp and lift. AARON picked it up. AARON put it in the MAZE.

//////////

The maze was a series of walls covered with another viewing screen to prevent 285 from simply climbing over the walls—which it had done before. As a measure of intelligence, 285 had so far been observed constantly trying to figure out the easiest, most effortless way of solving problems. While some in society might have viewed that as a lazy trait, Aaron knew better.

“You’re so damn smart,” Aaron said as he watched 285 in the maze: without moving from the starting point, the little creature stretched out a long tendril of itself in every possible direction, shrinking slightly the more mass it used. When an individual line of goop reached a dead end, it retracted all the way back into the blob’s body. Only when it found the exit did it start to shuffle its way through the maze.

Last time there had been a food reward at the end, but 285 had simply grabbed it in a tendril, absorbed it, and then retracted all its mass without ever moving a centimeter into the maze. Aaron wanted it to actually work for its reward this time, so he held up another container to show the creature.

//////////

There was NOTHING TO EAT this time at the end of the MAZE and so it began to MOVE which it did not really want to do now that it had FIGURED OUT THE MAZE and there should have been SOMETHING TO EAT but up above, it was noticed that AARON held up the SHINY TUBE which always held SOMETHING TO EAT and so it needed to LEAVE the MAZE to get the THING TO EAT.

//////////

As 285 left the maze, Aaron scooped it up and snuggled with it for a moment before opening the container. “Not only do you get bigger every day, but you get smarter too. I wonder what you’ll be like when you’re my size, haha…” he dumped a lemon onto 285’s squishy body. The fruit quickly sank in and was absorbed. 285 sang out a trilling, higher-pitched gurgle. A delighted sound, judging by past experiences.

With 285 cuddled in his arms again, Aaron one-handed a few more notes with his keyboard. “285 now moves through maze when no reward is present at the end; still utilizes the ‘labyrinth-slash-breadcrumbs’ method from before…” he tickled 285 roughly where the little creature’s belly would have been, causing it to jiggle and bubble in delight. “I’ll have to make sure I stay smarter than you… gotta figure out a way to get you to solve the maze differently next time. Maybe some pressure plates or something… maybe some doors to figure out how to open.

“Anyway,” Aaron said, stroking the creature’s ‘head,’ “how’d you like to maybe watch a movie or something? There’s some popcorn downstairs, I know how much you like—”

<EMERGENCY,> said a rarely-heard AI voice over the ship’s intercom. <EMERGENCY. SOLAR FLARE IMPACT IMMINENT. SOLAR FLARE IMPACT IMMINENT.>

“Oh shit,” Aaron said. He hurried over to the experiment chambers and dumped 285 back in. “Sorry buddy, I gotta seal you up… Don’t worry… I’ll be back for you ok? Let’s just hope this isn’t a bad one.” He ran back to his keyboard and typed in his researcher’s code, locking down the workstation and sealing all chambers for preservation of the specimens within.

//////////

nonono nono AARON was now AFRAID it was known it had been seen what could make such a BIG and POWERFUL creature AFRAID what could make AARON the bringer of FOOD and gentle touches and fun games what could make AARON show FEAR why was everything going DARK it wasn’t time for SLEEPING what was that loud NOISE why was everything starting to SHAKE what did the large-creature-noise “FATAL” mean no no no no no no no nono nonononononononononononononononononononononono //////////

Aaron flinched. He got to his feet as best he could. The entire ship was shaking violently, and just a few moments ago it had taken such a massive impact as to put him down on the ground, hard. His body throbbed with pain. “Fffffuck…” he grabbed the side of his desk and pulled himself upright.

<EMERGENCY. SOLAR FLARE IMPACT HAS CAUSED FATAL DAMAGE TO CORE SHIP SYSTEMS. EMERGENCY. SOLAR FLARE IMPACT HAS CAUSED FATAL DAMAGE TO CORE SHIP SYSTEMS.>

Aaron’s heart truly started to pound. That was the LAST thing anyone on a ship so large as the Oberon wanted to hear. He pressed his thumb against the scanner at the door.

It didn’t work. At that exact moment, the lights went off.

“Fuck!” Aaron raced back over to his computer. He was locked in and the power was failing and the blast screen was open… he hurried to type in the command again and managed to get them to close just before his monitor flickered off.

“Ok… ok…” Aaron took a deep breath. What to do when the ship was going down and you were locked in a room that hadn’t been designed to survive such scenarios. What to do…

The environmental suit. That was his only choice.

“THIS IS——-Ship’s captain speaking! Oberon has sustained massive damage and we are currently descending onto———ship is breaking up!!! Get yourselves to———IMMEDIATELY!!!”

Aaron already felt the temperature rising—the ship was about to fall into the atmosphere of a planet they’d been orbiting the past few days. It wasn’t a gas giant, thank heavens, so there was… well, there was a small chance he’d survive. He could put the suit on… maybe climb into one of the larger experiment chambers, which WERE designed to survive quite a bit of abuse…

No, better idea. Aaron dragged the suit over to the one experiment chamber he could fit inside, tossed it in and climbed in after it.

//////////

DARK.

SHAKES.

HEAT.

VERY VERY LOUD.

NOTHING TO EAT. NO AARON.

DARK. VERY HOT.

VERY. VERY. LOUD. LOUD. LOUD.

LOUD METAL NOISES. LOUD RUMBLING NOISES. LOUD HUMAN NOISES.

SHAKING. SHAKING. SHAKING. DARK. LOUD. HOT.

//////////

Sizzles, sparks, darkness, a sudden HISS and a crack of light above, a place to climb to.

Where did AARON go?

He was nowhere to be seen. It looked for him, peering out into the light.

It saw the room differently than before. Everything was covered in BLACK SPOTS and there was FIRE burning there, and there, and over there. FIRE was hot. FIRE was to be avoided.

It climbed up, and then down, and scented the seared air. A familiar smell was about, a delicious sort of smell. It saw many broken things, pieces of things laying about. SMALLER things could be ENGULFED and EATEN, but they weren’t very tasty. It followed the scent. A strong smell, the smell of MEAT, cooked.

It climbed over hot surfaces to reach a bigger chamber, grumbling quietly as it lost mass from the heat. The seal was open, crooked, dented. It slipped its squishy body inside.

Six little eyes focused on the shape inside—not another experiment, but as it drew closer, the MEAT smell intensified, and then it realized that the shape

Was

AARON

Laying

Still

And from experience it knew that when

THINGS that COULD MOVE

Suddenly STOPPED MOVING ……

It climbed up onto the shape of AARON. He looked and smelled different. He looked darker and reddish and the brown stuff on top of his HEAD was gone and it sat on his slowly heaving CHEST and looked down at his still face.

Aaron’s EYES opened, a tiny bit. “Hey… bbbuuudddyy…” and even his voice was different, HISSING and RASPY and WRONG.

It reached to his face to touch and tickle and beg to move, to not stop moving and get up and walk around on his BIG LEGS and be a BIG THING again and not this meat-smelling thing laying on the ground because… because he would STOP.

And once a thing STOPPED, that thing was DEAD.

AARON was not supposed to be DEAD.

“You… survived…” Aaron wheezed.

It touched his face some more. If it touched him he would talk and not STOP.

Aaron’s shaky hand attempted to come up to touch it.

He failed.

“I’m… … … glad…”

…. ….

He was DYING he would be DEAD I have to save him!!!

It had never thought of itself as an ‘i.’ It had never thought of itself before, ever. It knew food and sensations and things that pleased it and how to make those things happen, usually at Aaron’s behest.

The concept of the self was completely new. It didn’t make sense, but somehow it did, but there was no time to ruminate on such things, as AARON was DYING and he needed to be SAVED and there was only one thing 285 could think to do but before it could do so, it would need to be bigger. A lot bigger. Closer to Aaron’s size than ever before. And to grow, meant to eat, and digest, and absorb, and get bigger and… smarter?

Not only do you get bigger every day, but you get smarter too. I wonder what you’ll be like when you’re my size, haha…

//////////

285 rushed around the blackened workroom picking up and absorbing any small matter it could find. Another experiment had died in its cage. There was an empty can on the ground. There was a computer keyboard and a monitor and a mug, and they all were slurped up into 285’s watery green mass. The little blob grew and grew with each bite, with each additional selection of atoms absorbed into itself. It grew, bigger, bigger, BIGGER, until it was able to see over the top of the computer table, and then it slithered back to the cell Aaron had tried to take shelter in.

He wasn’t moving. Only his chest rose up and down. Very, very… slowly.

Growling and gurgling in a panic, 285 climbed on top of him again, touching his charred body, begging him to get up and be ALIVE…

285 remembered the merging experiment, remembered what it felt like when a little monkey was placed into the cell with it and engulfed, but not absorbed.

HE WAS DYING

Would it work? Would Aaron simply get up and walk after being inside its body, like the monkey had? It was almost the opposite of consumption, almost like… sinking in, rather than engulfing and eating.

//////////

There was no pain anymore.

Aaron felt absolutely nothing. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t think anymore. He simply existed, and for how long? Who could say.

But it would be over soon,

And he was at least happy that his little friend hadn’t been burnt to a crisp in the crash,

but

In his final moments of breath

Aaron Fastolf could only inhale once

The breath was pushed out of him

His eyes opened one last time

He saw only green

He felt only pain

The pain was back

It all came back

He was burning again

How could he burn twice

It was fire before

It was acid now

All over again

Deep in his head

His eyes closed

And still

He saw

Only

Green

//////////

Hacking and coughing, Aaron Fastolf sat upright in a jerky motion. He pounded his chest until he could properly inhale and exhale without gagging. He looked around.

He was still in the experiment chamber.

How did… wasn’t he just in his office? His workstation… was trashed. Aaron climbed out of the cell in tender movements. The memory of such fresh agony still prickled at his skin. What was that pain?

Was he… was everything smaller? Where did…

Aaron gasped as he thought of what had happened.

He was trying to close the seal. The power had gone out.

Something BANGED against the seal, hard, from above, and dented it, and frantically he’d tried to shut it again, only for the blazing heat to rush in and strike him down…

And 285 was there?

It was all blurred together, somehow, memories of waking up earlier, grabbing coffee, looking around his cell for anything else to eat, heading to his office, turning on his computer, sipping coffee, consuming a rat, the alarms of the ship, climbing out to find Aaron—

No wait, what??

Aaron stared down at himself. His researcher’s worksuit was torn, blackened, shredded… but his skin was whole underneath… what could have burnt his suit so badly but left his skin intact? The only light came from the fires burning low in various places around the room, but… but he could still see fairly good, if through a slightly hazy, almost greenish filter.

Lights! He needed a light. The ship was toast, for sure, likely nothing powered working anymore, but there would be supplies. He headed out into the ship’s hallways and found an emergency supply kit on a wall.

There were first aid supplies, which he somehow… didn’t need?

And a flashlight. A bright white beam sliced through the darkness around him. Aaron sighed, then let out an odd-feeling BELCH that echoed against the metal hallways. He traversed the ship’s corridors for a few minutes, past a few broken cooling tubes, heading back to his personal cabin. It wasn’t far. Automatically he turned on the lightswitch, to no avail. Unlike the research station, his cabin was further into the ship’s hull, much more protected from the heat of re-entry. Some items had been scattered around, and some of them were broken, but there was no charring anywhere.

Aaron checked his refrigerator. With no power, quite a few things would be spoiling soon, and he had no idea how long he’d been out, but he grabbed some promising looking items, like a pack of sausages, and put them on the table. His abdomen growled at him, almost as loud as his earlier burp, so he picked up the sausages and opened his mouth wide and shoveled the entire thing in…

Plastic packaging and all…

“The fuck did I just do??” Aaron whispered out loud.

His eyes widened as more memories hit him—burning in agony, letting Aaron pick him up, snuggling 285, typing on his keyboard, going to the bathroom this morning, running feelers to find the exit of the maze and climbing on top of Aaron’s chest to start engulfing him and attempting to merge—

His footsteps loud in the silence of the wrecked ship, Aaron bolted for his closet and threw the door open and shone the flashlight on himself.

He dropped it. He looked down at his hands, now illuminated by a real light source. He looked at his face. He reached up to feel his face.

He’d turned green. A pale, pastel green. His skin felt like slick, soft putty. His hair wasn’t brown anymore, it was simply a darker shade of green. His eyes were green. The inside of his mouth was green, his tongue was a dull green…

He opened his worksuit. It was all the way down—his chest, his belly, his legs, thighs, hips, penis, ass; he threw his jumpsuit aside and stood naked in his room and looked at his nude, green body.

“I… 285… what the fuck??”

He could remember so much. His own memories. Other memories that he didn’t remember having before. Which one was he? Was he still a man?

Was he still human?

Was he an ‘it’ now?

Where did he begin, and the other end?

Which. One. Was. He??

#OC Aaron #Ttea arts #lamarcodon #fic #come for the kink stay for the interesting backstory #submission #not kink but give it a read its GOOD #incube OCs #incube corp

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lesbrarians · 7 years

Text

Junkrat/Roadhog: Voyages Ch 5

Title: Voyages

Characters: Junkrat, Roadhog

Rating: R

Summary: After a rocky start and some ups and downs, Junkrat and Roadhog are officially partners, even if things haven’t progressed quite as far as Junkrat would like. With his treasure at the heart of their grandiose plans, they take their adventures overseas and leave their mark on the world, for better or worse. (Mostly for worse. They’re criminals.) Sequel to “Origins.”

---

Busan, South Korea was a drastic, if welcome, change from Tokyo, Japan. A slogan on the side of a bus declared it as "Busan: The City of Tomorrow," which Junkrat found particularly hilarious given the lack of modernity compared to the high tech, urban scene of Tokyo. While the seaside metropolis had undergone renovations in the past few decades, the sleek metallic towers that had sprung up looked out of place next to the tiny, colourful houses and historic statues that dotted the city. After leaving the beachfront districts and high rise skyscrapers behind, they picked their way through a maze of winding streets in search of a place to sleep and store their motorcycle when it wasn't in use. Their options were limited, progress impeded by steep streets that were punctuated with staircases and alleys too narrow to fit both the chopper and its sidecar. They weren't going to get as much use out of the bike as they had in Tokyo if they stationed their hideaway in this area of the city. Neither of them minded all that much, though -- it just meant they would have to be more creative when it came to plotting their getaways.

“At least it’s a pretty view,” Roadhog commented.

"Yeah, s'different," Junkrat agreed, studying the mural of a skyline that spanned the side of a bright blue shanty house. "I like it!" The district they had stumbled across was a vibrant, artistic community, and Junkrat itched to contribute to it. He made a mental note to pick up some spray paint so that he could tag buildings as he saw fit. Then, not trusting his brain to retain the thought, he told Roadhog, who assured him that he would add this item to their agenda and remember it in case it slipped his mind. There had been too many incidents where Junkrat had forgotten something and needed a reminder. His short term memory was dreadful; if he didn’t actively work to commit something to memory, the chances of it occurring to him later were slim. If he tried, it wasn’t bad -- it was why he was so good at engineering all of his devices. The subject fascinated him, so he had committed himself to learning all the minutiae of wiring things together and the properties of various explosives.

But he just didn’t care enough to exert all that energy to concentrate on things all of the time.

After scouring the quieter districts of Busan, they came across an abandoned neighbourhood opposite what appeared to be the richer parts of the city. Half of the buildings were demolished, leaving nothing behind but rubble, but there were several still-standing hovels littered with graffiti. They picked a relatively unassuming place that blended in with the landscape: brightly coloured, peeling paint, tags from local gangs spray painted on the siding. The shack was painted in the same yellow of Roadhog's shoulder armor and Junkrat's varied devices, and it felt like home. They parked the motorcycle behind the house, well out of view of anyone who happened to pass by, and shifted some refuse around to make it less conspicuous. Just in case.

Bad posture and a wide stance meant that Junkrat’s height went unnoticed, but Roadhog had to duck significantly and edge in at an angle to squeeze inside. The interior of the building was a dump, but it was no worse than their past living conditions. They had electricity, at least: Busan was one of the first mainstays in South Korea to convert to free solar electricity to power their city.

“Home, sweet home!” Junkrat said brightly. Roadhog dropped their omnipresent duffel bag while Junkrat removed his RIP-tire. They both shedded the rest of their gear and promptly passed out for two hours, taking a well-earned nap.

It was evening when they arose, the skyline tinged a burnt orange, and they ventured out in the city to acquire food, money, or whatever they could get their greedy hands on.

Acquiring their startup funds for South Korea was a team effort. Roadhog bumped into a businesswoman, causing her to drop her purse. Junkrat rifled through it while she stammered out an apology, all eyes on the massive mountain of a man who towered over her. Her wallet was stuffed with coloured bills, mostly green and red notes in increments of 10,000 and 5,000. Clearly the South Korean won operated under a greatly different system than yen, which seemed to be roughly on par with the Australian dollar.

Junkrat saw the opportunity to supplement their earnings by lifting a second wallet from a tourist's half unzipped backpack (“Come on, that’s just askin’ to be robbed! Stupid tourists don’t change, no matter the country, eh?”), and he seized the opportunity. He was delighted to find bright yellow bills inside: his favourite colour, and it was the most expensive at a denomination of 50,000.

They found a tented street stall -- pojangmacha, the vendor called it upon welcoming them -- and sat down on the narrow, creaking benches. After studying the prices on the signs, Roadhog slid across several banknotes from one of the wallets. The vendor was remarkably pleasant towards the two, admittedly scary-looking, shirtless Australians who were hungrily eyeing his wares. He spoke some English and cheerfully named each of the dishes as he served them.

After confirming that there was no meat in them, Roadhog favoured the dumplings (“So-mandu,” the vendor said). Junkrat, on the other hand, immediately zeroed in on the skewers of panko-crusted cutlets. He dimly heard the name, donkkaseu, but he didn’t care about the attempt to educate him on the local food, he just cared that it was delicious.

“What is this, pork?” he said through a mouthful of meat. “Oh, Roadhog, mate, ya got no idea what yer missin’ over here!” He ripped off another savage bite.

“Stop,” Roadhog warned him. Junkrat still had a hard time wrapping his mind around Roadhog’s vegetarianism.

“What, it’s good!” He swallowed and grinned. “Can’t help it if I like pork, can I? Speakin’ of which, think that’ll be on the menu tonight? Just a lil’ taste?” He snickered and nudged Roadhog with his elbow.

Roadhog tilted away from him. Junkrat leaned over further to continue elbowing him.

Roadhog shifted down a seat, and Junkrat fell off his stool in his attempt to follow.

Roadhog laughed lowly, and it was quite clearly directed at him, not with him. Junkrat couldn’t be too mad about it when he loved the sound of Roadhog’s laughter so much. His scowl was good-natured as he righted himself.

The nights were getting colder as they entered December, and Junkrat shivered involuntarily. He was used to cold nights in the Australian Outback, but they were north of the Equator now, and this was a different kind of chill. This was the chill of an unseasonably temperate fall giving way to winter. Rosa’s sweaters were going to come in handy.

Junkrat placed a hand on Roadhog’s arm as they left the pojangmacha behind, testing for evidence that Roadhog was chilly as well, and found goosebumps. He didn’t want to let go, so instead he wrapped both of his arms around Roadhog’s bicep, even if it made walking more awkward than it should have been. The body heat helped.

“Hey.” Junkrat’s stage whisper could barely even be called that. “Think I found our first heist.” He nodded to a storefront that was advertising mink blankets, several of their products displayed on racks outside of the store. “Never understood why shops do that. I mean, I get yer supposed to go inside and pay, but puttin’ it all out there is just askin’ to get robbed. I mean, it’s practically a public service, we’re just givin’ them what they want! Bloody idiots, the lot of them.“

“Cameras,” Roadhog said, looking up. Junkrat followed suit, and he could just make out the wall-mounted camera concealed in the shadows of the storefront. “Okay, so they got cameras. But it’s the principle of the thing, don’t leave yer merchandise outside! Cameras ain’t gonna stop someone from knockin’ off some blankets. Just means they’re more likely to be recognised later. They still get the goods.” He didn’t know if he was still referring to the two of them or criminals in general, but he did know that he was spinning off on a tangent. “So really, why even bother if yer not gonna have any actual security to stop it before it happens--” He had a hard time shutting up and holding back the proverbial word vomit once he got going, so he was grateful when Roadhog interrupted him.

“Go take care of the camera.”

“Take care of it,” he repeated. Okay, that was a mission he could focus on. He could put aside his disgust for street-displaying store owners and devote his attention to the task at hand.

He studied the camera from afar -- out of its field of view, too far to interfere with the merchandise -- as it swept the area, picking out its blind spots. “There,” he said suddenly. He snapped open the flap of the canvas bag he kept around his waist, pulling out the permanent marker that he used to draw x’ed out smiley faces on all of his grenades. Stealth was far from his strong suit, but an attempt was made as he sidled up from the right, slipping into the narrow space between the wall and the end of the camera’s line of sight. He stood up straight, gaining several inches in the process, and reached up his left hand. The marker squeaked as he coloured in the camera’s lens, blacking out its vision.

“Eh?” he said, raising his eyebrows at Roadhog, who gave him a thumbs up of approval.

They worked quickly, scooping up as many of the blankets they could carry. They came in a multitude of colours and patterns, but they were all that same, silky mink texture. Junkrat tied a bright orange blanket around his neck like a cape, marveling at how it was softer than any furry animal he’d ever caught in one of his steel traps, before dashing off to make their mad escape.

They both bore bulky loads of blankets in their arms as they made the trek back to their abandoned neighborhood, slowing down once they were a safe distance away from the store.

They found the hole in the fence that was their entrance, which was poorly covered with a faded green striped blanket, and slipped through it. Roadhog had had to slightly widen it by bending in the edges of the severed fence, but really, they were lucky that it was as big as it was to start with.

“Not a bad haul for a first day’s work!” Junkrat said. He spotted their yellow house first and led the way. “Maybe tomorrow we can do some research, learn more about that om--”

“Shut up,” Roadhog interrupted.

Junkrat made an offended noise. “Oi! I’m not even doin’ anything--”

“I said. Shut. Up.” The terseness in Roadhog’s voice made him clamp his mouth shut -- obviously something was wrong, and when he glanced around, he saw the reason for Roadhog’s sudden abruptness.

They weren’t alone. Several houses down from their own hovel, an unkempt, middle-aged women stared from a doorway. Her appearance was disheveled, and she looked like she hadn’t washed up in weeks, a situation that Junkrat and Roadhog were all too familiar with.

They, on the other hand, looked like the criminals they were. Sure, they were cleaner than she was, given the storm they had sailed through, but their arms were laden with too many goods to plausibly be acquired through legal means. Their general apparel didn’t help dispel any notions otherwise, nor did the grenades strapped to Junkrat’s chest and the hook and spool of chain stored on Roadhog’s waist.

Nobody moved for several long seconds, until she gave them a curt nod. Roadhog returned it, and she disappeared inside a mint green house with smashed windows.

“What just happened?” Junkrat asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

“I guess we’re not the only squatters. Think she’s a former resident?” It was a good question, and it got Junkrat wondering just how many evictees had refused to leave their condemned neighborhood and lived in the ruins of their livelihood. He wondered how many homeless people had taken up residence post-abandonment, seeing an opportunity to get off the streets.

“No idea, mate. Least it don’t look like she’s about to call the cops on us, yeah?”

Roadhog nodded. “Can’t do that without implicating herself.”

The nod was a wordless agreement to keep quiet. There was no way of telling the circumstances of anyone’s living arrangements, but they all would get in trouble if they exposed one another. There was an unusual solidarity between people living in illegal or rundown places, and for a moment, Junkrat had a pang of loneliness for Junkertown. He had been one of many living in a cobbled-together city of ramshackle shanties and lean-tos, although many of its residents weren’t fond of him and found him to be an utter nuisance. Still, he had always felt a kinship with the other Junkers, even those whom he wasn’t on friendly terms with. It was a community, it was home, and sometimes he missed it dearly.

“Never woulda thought we’d have neighbors,” Junkrat mused as they entered their own illegal domain. It was kind of an exciting prospect. “We should invite her over for a cuppa.”

Roadhog was less trusting. “No,” he said firmly, and that was the end of that. “Live and let live.”

Junkrat exhaled. "If ya say so," he said. He stretched out on the ground, burying himself in a tangled mound of mink blankets. The sweaters could wait until morning. He didn’t particularly want to expose his bare chest to the chilly air after having wrapped a blanket around himself.

He had only been slightly joking when he'd quipped about wanting pork to be on the menu for tonight. Roadhog was on his mind all the time, frequently in a sexual manner, and he could feel the desperate need to get laid building inside of him. He hadn't gone so long without a regular orgasm since he first embarked on his adventures with Roadhog, when the air between them had been too taut for him to get away with jerking off. He managed here and there later on, and he had indulged a handful of times since that first kiss with Roadhog, the night they'd escaped prison. But he wasn't content with flying solo anymore, his hormones had been raging since the first time he'd seriously made out with Roadhog, and not being able to bring his attraction to fruition was becoming increasingly infuriating. He had never felt more sexually frustrated than after Roadhog's rejection of him, and he'd tried to stamp out his urges -- but Roadhog hadn't shut him down when he'd commented about "just a little taste" tonight, and it had brought all of his desires back to the forefront of his imagination.

The small, bedraggled woman quieted those clamoring thoughts, however. It didn't feel right to put a move on Roadhog with the image of her still fresh in his mind, and since his brain was no longer screaming do it, do it, do it, just jump his bones already! he decided to leave it for another day.

Besides, he was cold. He wriggled his blanket-laden body closer to Roadhog and tried to toss one of the twisted blankets over the both of them. It barely covered half of Roadhog's belly.

"You tried," Roadhog told him, patting his head.

Tried wasn't good enough for him, and Junkrat pushed himself up to a seated position so that he could drape his body over Roadhog's stomach. "There!" he said, satisfied. "See? We can both fit under one blanket if we really try."

"More like you're the blanket," Roadhog said, and Junkrat laughed. He fell asleep like that, half dangling off of Roadhog's body.

At some point in the night, Roadhog pushed him off to take a leak, and Junkrat scrunched his nose up in displeasure. He sleepily reached out for Roadhog, brushing against the ground as he searched for his missing partner. His hand brushed against something furry, and he thought it was one of the mink blankets, in his half conscious state.

Then it moved. It took a few moments for his groggy brain to register this, then his eyes flew open. There was a large lump of something next to him, about a foot long, and when it darted a few paces away from him, he involuntarily screamed. Conflicting primal instincts clashed in his head, one telling him to shrink away from the threat, and the other telling him to disable it before it could hurt him. He lunged for the creature, grabbing it in his hands.

Roadhog banged into the room to investigate, still refastening his belt buckle as he flicked the light on. A rat squirmed in Junkrat's hands, larger than any he had ever seen before. Roadhog put it best: "What the hell is that."

“It’s a rat,” Junkrat said. He brought it closer to his face for inspection, keeping it just out of reach so it couldn’t claw him.

Roadhog snorted. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“Fuck you, Watson,” Junkrat retorted. As he squinted at the rat, he saw that it was missing an eye, and a sudden surge of affection washed over him. He felt an affinity with the feral creature, and the fact that the rat’s missing body part was on the right side of his face only affirmed that.

“No, but look, ‘Hog, it’s me!” he exclaimed, holding up the still-thrashing rat. “We should keep him. Much cuter than that stupid robot.”

“No it’s not,” Roadhog said bluntly.

Well, Roadhog was the authority on all things cute and cuddly. Junkrat knew deep in his heart that Kiki had been cute, but he was loathe to admit it after the revelation that she was an omnic. Still, he genuinely thought the rat was cute in its own beastly way.

He looked at the rat in his hand. It hissed and tried to bite him. “He’s perfect,” he said, the utmost wonder in his eyes. He groped around for a scrap of food and held it up to the rat, who stopped thrashing and sniffed at it, whiskers twitching. “Okay, but ya get where I’m comin’ from, roight? This is a proper pet, like Piglet was, not some stupid omnic! I say we keep him. Think we can get him to steal stuff for us too?”

“A rat -- the animal, not you -- is nowhere near the level of a pig’s intelligence, never mind a robot that tries to pass as human.”

Junkrat hummed in suspicion. “And you’re sure about that? Bet I can tame him, at least.” He dropped the rat to the floor, and it scurried behind a pile of rubbish in the corner of the hovel and disappeared from sight. “He’ll be back,” he said confidently. “We have a bond. Watch, we come back tonight, he’ll still be here.”

“Fifty bucks.”

“You don’t believe me!” Junkrat said, scandalised.

“No, I don’t,” Roadhog agreed.

Junkrat puffed his chest out and stood up, drawing himself up to his full height. “Alright, you’re on. Fifty bucks. Hell, I’d wager 50,000 of whatever these are!” Junkrat reached for one of the yellow 50,000 bills and snapped it taut between his hands.

“Won. Isn’t that about the same?”

“I haven’t the foggiest!”

They got ready for the day, pulling on their heavy sweaters. A fire burned inside Junkrat, determined to prove that he could forge a bond between the rat and himself.

“Actually, I think it’s less,” Roadhog said as they prepared to head outside.

“What?”

“The won.”

“Who cares? I’m gonna win!” He paused. “Win the won!” His voice rose several octaves in his glee.

He was still cackling uproariously as Roadhog shoved him out the door.

#roadrat #junkrat #roadhog #overwatch #origins #voyages #my fanfiction

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