makoroadie-blog

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People fighting over the Mercy concept art and the current Mercy and I’m over here like 

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Could you please do some roadrat cuddles or kisses? Please? Btw your art is so pretty and amazing!

Kiss, kiss, kiss. 

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This isn’t funny I just saw the new spawn room thing and thought goddamnit that is so Extra.

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How do you make it stop?

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overwatch boys

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The shaming continues 

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Grunting softly to himself, Roadhog manages to push his heavy body towards a tree so he can lean against it. He shakes his head for a moment before taking the can from Rat. His hands are calloused enough that the heat does not phase him, and he completely ignores the spoon. It’s hard to say whether or not it’s out of drunkenness or just a general disregard for doing things the proper way as usual. Instead, he tilts the can back and practically inhales the food, hunger awakened by the blood loss- not that Hog’s ever needed an excuse.

After he finishes he sighs and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Better.” he hums, lazy and sated for the time being.

As he waits for Junkrat to finish his meal, he scans the man. He doesn’t even try to hide that he’s staring, and let’s his gaze linger on his favorite parts- Rat’s face, obviously, then his collar bone, then torso, and then... less innocent places. He licks his lip, slowly, and moves his eye back to meet Rat’s. There’s a promise behind his dark eye, but he doesn’t say a word about it.

“Think y’can get me to my feet?” he asks, maintaining eye contact. “Water ain’t too far... prolly won’t fall down now.”

He huffs as if he’s told a joke, but the reality is a few cans of beans and tea isn’t going to do a lot against the amount of alcohol he’d ingested. Only sleep would help that, but at least the world isn’t spinning anymore, and there’s only a dull throbbing behind his bad eye.

“Wot- nah! I ain’t sayin’ I want one…just sayin’ could use one…since y’like it when ‘m clean ‘n all…” he huffs, pouring the tea into two slightly chipped cups that they managed to find intact, one bigger than the other. Then slowly hobbles back over to Mako with the tea and pushes himself into his lap. “ ‘Sides I like takin’ em with yea…’n loads more easy with yea makin’ sure I don’t fall under” Rat takes a sip of his tea and glances away out of embarrassment.

He looks back up at Mako a moment, sets his tea down on a flat rock, then wraps his arms as far as they can reach around the widest part of his belly. Nuzzling into it with a grin, just staying like this for a moment as he tries to think. “Kei te…aroha…-uh shit.” he mumbles, his ears and cheeks heating up. Jamie wanted to say something to him in Maori to try and be cute, but it’s been long enough that he could barely remember any of the words.

When Mako spoke, or on occasion sung, in Maori it sounded so pretty. Especially the singing, his low bass sounded so natural in the language.

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8y hoh

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“Kei te aroha au i a koe.” Hog rumbles easily after Rat stumbles, picking up the words and saying them as he moves forward to kiss his forehead. It’s a bit of a reach, but thankfully Jamie is tall and lanky enough that he can arch himself around Roadhog’s gut. “Taku iti kahurangi.”

Usually Hog shies away from Maori. All things Maori, in fact, not just the language. He usually whispers things to Rat when the smaller man is sad or asks questions about it, but he prefers to keep his life before the blast buried in rubble. Apparently not so much in his current state. He smiles and pets Rat’s head.

“Nn... Bath sounds good.” he says, nodding to the lake nearby. “... Better sober up a bit, first. Tea’ll help.”

“Wot- nah! I ain’t sayin’ I want one…just sayin’ could use one…since y’like it when ‘m clean ‘n all…” he huffs, pouring the tea into two slightly chipped cups that they managed to find intact, one bigger than the other. Then slowly hobbles back over to Mako with the tea and pushes himself into his lap. “ ‘Sides I like takin’ em with yea…’n loads more easy with yea makin’ sure I don’t fall under” Rat takes a sip of his tea and glances away out of embarrassment.

He looks back up at Mako a moment, sets his tea down on a flat rock, then wraps his arms as far as they can reach around the widest part of his belly. Nuzzling into it with a grin, just staying like this for a moment as he tries to think. “Kei te…aroha…-uh shit.” he mumbles, his ears and cheeks heating up. Jamie wanted to say something to him in Maori to try and be cute, but it’s been long enough that he could barely remember any of the words.

When Mako spoke, or on occasion sung, in Maori it sounded so pretty. Especially the singing, his low bass sounded so natural in the language.

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Headcanon 2: Roadhog and the Junker Queen

The reason behind the Junker Queen hating Mako so much is actually quite personal, because once upon a time, she owned him. It started when Roadhog was hired onto a group as a meat-shield, which was pretty normal for him. He took payment in food and booze. This was when he was still non-verbal and beastly, so the groups that took him in often treated him more like a fight dog than a partner. He traveled with them as their muscle for about two years before they were in dire enough straights that they decided to drug and chain him up after drugging him. They brought him to Junkertown and the Queen purchased him as some sick cross between a bodyguard and a pet.

Hog at this point was too nihilistic to give much care. He didn’t try to escape, he just did as he was told. It wasn’t so bad, in some ways. This was the time he received the title of ‘Roadhog’, along with the mask and tattoo, as up until then he just let people call him what they wanted, and his past group had decided on ‘Hog’ for obvious reasons. Queenie had a custom bike made for him so he could travel with her from Junkertown to the other small villages nearby to collect taxes and such. In some ways, he lived better than all the other Junkers. He had a warm place to sleep and more food than most people would get, as well as a twisted purpose, because the Junker Queen used fighting Roadhog as a punishment for anyone who broke the laws of Junkertown. It was a death sentence, really, but a fun one because she could watch her muscle tear apart those who crossed her in the arena.

There was a balance to it. The Queen did respect Hog in a way, though she didn’t see him as a person. Not even as a slave. Just a pet to be punished and rewarded accordingly. Up until an unfortunate incontinent involving one of the prisoners Hog was supposed to face. There were three, but only one really matters. One with maori tattoos, tattoos Roadhog recognized. It was one of the young children from his old tribe. He’d taken care of that child after the omnics took their homes. He’d fed him and patched up his wounds.

Hog went ballistic. He didn’t attack the targets the Junker Queen intended him to. Instead, he started to demolish the arena itself with his raw strength. When the Queen moved in to punish him, he nearly killed her. She was shocked, because Hog had never once defended himself against her, let alone attacked her, and suddenly he nearly killed her and escaped.

Her hatred comes in many parts. First of all, he embarrassed her in front of her people. Second of all, he betrayed what she saw as a great kindness (she took care of him). Third of all, he tried to kill her and that is unacceptable from anyone.

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Hog frowns when Jamie says the peg was rubbing at his stump, though he knows there isn’t much he can do to help beyond making sure he gets the part he needs. He takes Rat’s wrist and pulls him back while he’s standing on just the peg, causing the little guy to stumble and land on Mako’s stomach.

“Nn... Y’already took care’a me.” he rumbles, kissing Rat’s neck. He’s warm all over, and Jamie is so small that Mako can practically engulf him if he tries. Which, of course, he does. There’s a small glint in his one visible eye as he smirks. “... ‘m pretty fockin’ useless right now, though. Don’t think I could stand up if I wanted to.”

Usually he would never admit to something like that, and he huffs at his own loose tongue. Too much booze. But he supposes everything is turning out okay so far. He looks down at the canister of hogdrogen as Rat gets back up to put food on the fire. He has four left. Had to use one to sleep the other night when his head wouldn’t stop pounding. If he uses this one he knows his eye will heal up quick, but then they’ll only have three, and who knows when they’ll be able to get the shit to make more... He rolls it back over to his pack lazily before processing Rat’s words.

Once he does, Hog doesn’t even try to hide his utter shock. He probably wouldn’t have been able to anyway, but still. His one eye goes wide.

“I’ll be stuffed.” he says, a low chuckle in his voice. “Y’sayin you want a bath, mate?”

Even though the alcohol burned like hell in his throat, Hog chugs down the vodka with abandon as they settle down in their campsite for the night.

Over the past week they’d managed to dig themselves out a little hole few dozen miles from the destroyed trailer. They aren’t sure if the bounty hunters had friends who might come sniffing around, but they wanted to stay near the scraps until they are picked cleaned, and if anyone else did come… well, they could deal with them the same way they delt with the first wave, but with more eagerness and efficiency.

Tonight, though, Hog has to show Rat his face again. It had been a solid week of very obviously avoiding it. He’d cleaned his mask and thrown it on, wore it 24/7 again even though before their trailer was destroyed he’d started taking it off for bed if he didn’t need it… His excuse was that they couldn’t know if anyone else could see them, but the reality was and still is that the attack had brought up bad memories. His eye is a trigger point for him, something he’d only barely been getting better at letting Jamie see and touch, and now…

Well now, not only will Rat see and touch that side of his face, he has to take a bunch of fucking tools and dig around in his eye like it’s a gooey fucking sandbox. And even though Hog knows he should man up and stop letting himself think too much into it, he’s terrified.

And as a result, he is already on his second bottle of vodka.

To be fair, Hog does have a tolerance against alcohol combined with his size, it’s hard for him to actually get wasted, but not ‘two bottles’ hard. Usually about half a bottle will get him pretty damn buzzed, but Hog isn’t looking for buzzed and he and Rat both know it. He leans back against a tree, surveying their small camp with his one good eye.

They bought a tent that’s big enough for Rat and Hog together (Rat sorta has to be propped up on Hog’s gut for them to both ‘fit’, but it counts). They hadn’t used it yet, though, it’s just for emergencies, case it rains. For the most part they’ve been sleeping by the fire each night on a mattress they nabbed for the time being. They’ve talked about stealing a new trailer, but they both decided that waiting until Hog’s eye is bullet-free and Rat’s shoulder is better would be for the best.

Finally, Hog sighs and reaches up to pull off the mask. He hates his face. Rat knows that much, even though Mako hasn’t actually said the words. Even before the sniper, he flinched away when Jamie’s fingers brushed the left side of his face. The scarring around that eye is… well, an eyesore. He knows it. The other scars could maybe be seen as manly, the cut across the chin, two thin lines over his right cheek, but that left eye… He tries not to think about it as he reaches up for the bandage.

He underestimates the alcohol. Unwrapping them on his own isn’t possible. He feels dizzy trying, so he looks up to Jamie. It’s hard to tell how much of the red on his cheeks is due to alcohol and how much is due to shame. He just grunts lightly, swaying just a bit as he reaches out to Rat.

“Don’t worry ‘bout hurtin it.” he rumbles as his boyfriend moves closer. His cadence in a bit slower in his drunken state, but he’s not actually slurring any more than usual. “I can take it. Jus’ get it out.”

Beneath the bandages is not a pretty sight. Less so than usual. Hog’s eye has started to reform, but it’s… off. The shape is wrong. There is a noticeable divot in the orb where the bullet is preventing his eye from healing fully. There’s no iris or pupil, just cloudy white all over. On the bright side, nothing around it looks injured at all anymore… at least for the time being, there’s no way it will look as pristine when Rat is done.

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Even though he’s still absolutely blasted, Hog hides it fairly well. The fact that he often slurs his speech and moves lazily helps quite a bit to hide that now it wasn’t so much ‘being lazy’ as ‘actually needing to concentrate on individual movements that are usually taken for granted’. He grunts and reaches up to pet Jamie’s head with a large hand.

“Sounds good.” he rumbles, nudging Junkrat with his soft cheek. “N’ dinner, right?”

At the moment they don’t have much more than what they were able to steal while they were out... Granted, there’s quite a bit, but Hog made sure they mostly took canned shit until they get a cooler. Speaking of which.

“Oi. Tomorrow, we’ll... get that part y’need fer y’ leg.” he says, as if he’ll actually manage to recall this conversation tomorrow morning. “Then we can... start lookin’ for a new place. Somethin’ big, like y’said.”

He’s petting Rat as he says as much, thinking about their new home. Maybe he feels a little sappy, because he misses their old place so much, but he wants to make it happen as soon as he can.

“Maybe nab a bigger telly, ‘n shit....” he continues. Hog usually isn’t the type to plan ahead much. His nihilism plagues much of his life, and planning for a future together... usually he sees it as depressing. He doesn’t expect Jamison to put up with him long enough to actually... have much of a future. So this is a new side of him, one that seemingly only popped out because of copious amounts of vodka and maybe partially due to the blood loss. “Big bed. ‘nuff so y’got room for a change...”

Even though the alcohol burned like hell in his throat, Hog chugs down the vodka with abandon as they settle down in their campsite for the night.

Over the past week they’d managed to dig themselves out a little hole few dozen miles from the destroyed trailer. They aren’t sure if the bounty hunters had friends who might come sniffing around, but they wanted to stay near the scraps until they are picked cleaned, and if anyone else did come… well, they could deal with them the same way they delt with the first wave, but with more eagerness and efficiency.

Tonight, though, Hog has to show Rat his face again. It had been a solid week of very obviously avoiding it. He’d cleaned his mask and thrown it on, wore it 24/7 again even though before their trailer was destroyed he’d started taking it off for bed if he didn’t need it… His excuse was that they couldn’t know if anyone else could see them, but the reality was and still is that the attack had brought up bad memories. His eye is a trigger point for him, something he’d only barely been getting better at letting Jamie see and touch, and now…

Well now, not only will Rat see and touch that side of his face, he has to take a bunch of fucking tools and dig around in his eye like it’s a gooey fucking sandbox. And even though Hog knows he should man up and stop letting himself think too much into it, he’s terrified.

And as a result, he is already on his second bottle of vodka.

To be fair, Hog does have a tolerance against alcohol combined with his size, it’s hard for him to actually get wasted, but not ‘two bottles’ hard. Usually about half a bottle will get him pretty damn buzzed, but Hog isn’t looking for buzzed and he and Rat both know it. He leans back against a tree, surveying their small camp with his one good eye.

They bought a tent that’s big enough for Rat and Hog together (Rat sorta has to be propped up on Hog’s gut for them to both ‘fit’, but it counts). They hadn’t used it yet, though, it’s just for emergencies, case it rains. For the most part they’ve been sleeping by the fire each night on a mattress they nabbed for the time being. They’ve talked about stealing a new trailer, but they both decided that waiting until Hog’s eye is bullet-free and Rat’s shoulder is better would be for the best.

Finally, Hog sighs and reaches up to pull off the mask. He hates his face. Rat knows that much, even though Mako hasn’t actually said the words. Even before the sniper, he flinched away when Jamie’s fingers brushed the left side of his face. The scarring around that eye is… well, an eyesore. He knows it. The other scars could maybe be seen as manly, the cut across the chin, two thin lines over his right cheek, but that left eye… He tries not to think about it as he reaches up for the bandage.

He underestimates the alcohol. Unwrapping them on his own isn’t possible. He feels dizzy trying, so he looks up to Jamie. It’s hard to tell how much of the red on his cheeks is due to alcohol and how much is due to shame. He just grunts lightly, swaying just a bit as he reaches out to Rat.

“Don’t worry ‘bout hurtin it.” he rumbles as his boyfriend moves closer. His cadence in a bit slower in his drunken state, but he’s not actually slurring any more than usual. “I can take it. Jus’ get it out.”

Beneath the bandages is not a pretty sight. Less so than usual. Hog’s eye has started to reform, but it’s… off. The shape is wrong. There is a noticeable divot in the orb where the bullet is preventing his eye from healing fully. There’s no iris or pupil, just cloudy white all over. On the bright side, nothing around it looks injured at all anymore… at least for the time being, there’s no way it will look as pristine when Rat is done.

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At the “insult” Hog huffs a near-laugh and starts to ask Rat to help him up, only to find himself stopped and Rat’s forehead against his own. He hesitates and then closes his good eye, taking and releasing a deep breath. He’d caught Rat the hongi when the little guy had been having a panic attack. Just to distract him, but also because domesticity had brought back so many memories of home.

Once they separate he tries to aid Rat in lifting him as best he can with his hands tied. At the question he smirks and glances over his shoulder with his good eye, still buzzed from the alcohol.

“Who says it ain’t?” he asks. His voice non-committal. It could just as easily be interpreted as Hog trying to tease Rat as a legitimate confession. He pulls his hands forward and rubs his wrists for a moment before reaching up to check his eye. If he’d done it, he would have wrapped up his whole head again like before, but he knows that’s exactly why Rat had finished up first. “An’ how do y’even know what a kink is?”

He still thinks of Jamie as innocent, or at least as innocent as a Junker can be. Ever since he’d been told that the blond is still a virgin (though... less so, now, Hog had started to take care of that as much as he’d allow himself to. He is very careful with Jamison because of that.).

Even though the alcohol burned like hell in his throat, Hog chugs down the vodka with abandon as they settle down in their campsite for the night.

Over the past week they’d managed to dig themselves out a little hole few dozen miles from the destroyed trailer. They aren’t sure if the bounty hunters had friends who might come sniffing around, but they wanted to stay near the scraps until they are picked cleaned, and if anyone else did come… well, they could deal with them the same way they delt with the first wave, but with more eagerness and efficiency.

Tonight, though, Hog has to show Rat his face again. It had been a solid week of very obviously avoiding it. He’d cleaned his mask and thrown it on, wore it 24/7 again even though before their trailer was destroyed he’d started taking it off for bed if he didn’t need it… His excuse was that they couldn’t know if anyone else could see them, but the reality was and still is that the attack had brought up bad memories. His eye is a trigger point for him, something he’d only barely been getting better at letting Jamie see and touch, and now…

Well now, not only will Rat see and touch that side of his face, he has to take a bunch of fucking tools and dig around in his eye like it’s a gooey fucking sandbox. And even though Hog knows he should man up and stop letting himself think too much into it, he’s terrified.

And as a result, he is already on his second bottle of vodka.

To be fair, Hog does have a tolerance against alcohol combined with his size, it’s hard for him to actually get wasted, but not ‘two bottles’ hard. Usually about half a bottle will get him pretty damn buzzed, but Hog isn’t looking for buzzed and he and Rat both know it. He leans back against a tree, surveying their small camp with his one good eye.

They bought a tent that’s big enough for Rat and Hog together (Rat sorta has to be propped up on Hog’s gut for them to both ‘fit’, but it counts). They hadn’t used it yet, though, it’s just for emergencies, case it rains. For the most part they’ve been sleeping by the fire each night on a mattress they nabbed for the time being. They’ve talked about stealing a new trailer, but they both decided that waiting until Hog’s eye is bullet-free and Rat’s shoulder is better would be for the best.

Finally, Hog sighs and reaches up to pull off the mask. He hates his face. Rat knows that much, even though Mako hasn’t actually said the words. Even before the sniper, he flinched away when Jamie’s fingers brushed the left side of his face. The scarring around that eye is… well, an eyesore. He knows it. The other scars could maybe be seen as manly, the cut across the chin, two thin lines over his right cheek, but that left eye… He tries not to think about it as he reaches up for the bandage.

He underestimates the alcohol. Unwrapping them on his own isn’t possible. He feels dizzy trying, so he looks up to Jamie. It’s hard to tell how much of the red on his cheeks is due to alcohol and how much is due to shame. He just grunts lightly, swaying just a bit as he reaches out to Rat.

“Don’t worry ‘bout hurtin it.” he rumbles as his boyfriend moves closer. His cadence in a bit slower in his drunken state, but he’s not actually slurring any more than usual. “I can take it. Jus’ get it out.”

Beneath the bandages is not a pretty sight. Less so than usual. Hog’s eye has started to reform, but it’s… off. The shape is wrong. There is a noticeable divot in the orb where the bullet is preventing his eye from healing fully. There’s no iris or pupil, just cloudy white all over. On the bright side, nothing around it looks injured at all anymore… at least for the time being, there’s no way it will look as pristine when Rat is done.

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The vodka does it’s job quite well, and that combined Rat’s attempts to calm and keep Hog from seeing the glint off of the tools keep Hog relatively still and nearly calm. With his hands tied behind his back he isn’t able to tremble as much, which is good, and the story does pull him in. To be fair, he’s forcing himself to pay attention to Junkrat’s words because he knows he needs to, but still.

“Two of yah, huh?” he asks, closing his good eye. He can see the barest hint on Jamie’s outline, like a shadow on top of a shadow, but it’s not enough to make much out beyond that. “Sounds like a.... fockin’ wet dream.”

He growls softly as he feels the tools digging in, but it’s all slow and careful, and he doesn’t feel the need to lash out. His arms tug at the binds, testing their strength, and then he gives a positive grunt to Rat’s question.

As the little guy counts down Hog takes a deep, slow breath in. It’s okay. Rat’s pulling it out of his eye, not plunging something in. The hard part- getting a hold of the bullet- is done. It’s going to be okay. Most people would assume this next part would be worse, but Hog doesn’t care about the pain.

The sound he makes as the bullet tears from his eye is low and guttural, beastly, but usual for Hog when he’s in pain. His back arches up further and he forces his mouth to stay shut. Rat was right about the cloth, he should’ve bitten down on it, but he manages not to bite off his tongue just by keeping his jaw locked. He feels blood dribbling down the side of his face, but there is a small amount of relief- a pressure he almost hadn’t even noticed building up finally loosening.

It takes less than a minute for the growls and groans to fade down. He’s clearly suppressing them, muffling them in his own throat. His cheek on his good side presses against Jamie’s leg, the skin-to-skin contact a small comfort as he is tended to. Soon he’s just breathing deep and slow, and he looks up to meet Rat’s eyes with his own dark one, the other pulp once more. He has a layer of sweat on his forehead from the ordeal, but shows a cynical, very tired smile up to his lover.

“See... don’t... don’t know what you were... so worried ‘bout.” he manages to pant, trying to make Rat smile.

Even though the alcohol burned like hell in his throat, Hog chugs down the vodka with abandon as they settle down in their campsite for the night.

Over the past week they’d managed to dig themselves out a little hole few dozen miles from the destroyed trailer. They aren’t sure if the bounty hunters had friends who might come sniffing around, but they wanted to stay near the scraps until they are picked cleaned, and if anyone else did come… well, they could deal with them the same way they delt with the first wave, but with more eagerness and efficiency.

Tonight, though, Hog has to show Rat his face again. It had been a solid week of very obviously avoiding it. He’d cleaned his mask and thrown it on, wore it 24/7 again even though before their trailer was destroyed he’d started taking it off for bed if he didn’t need it… His excuse was that they couldn’t know if anyone else could see them, but the reality was and still is that the attack had brought up bad memories. His eye is a trigger point for him, something he’d only barely been getting better at letting Jamie see and touch, and now…

Well now, not only will Rat see and touch that side of his face, he has to take a bunch of fucking tools and dig around in his eye like it’s a gooey fucking sandbox. And even though Hog knows he should man up and stop letting himself think too much into it, he’s terrified.

And as a result, he is already on his second bottle of vodka.

To be fair, Hog does have a tolerance against alcohol combined with his size, it’s hard for him to actually get wasted, but not ‘two bottles’ hard. Usually about half a bottle will get him pretty damn buzzed, but Hog isn’t looking for buzzed and he and Rat both know it. He leans back against a tree, surveying their small camp with his one good eye.

They bought a tent that’s big enough for Rat and Hog together (Rat sorta has to be propped up on Hog’s gut for them to both ‘fit’, but it counts). They hadn’t used it yet, though, it’s just for emergencies, case it rains. For the most part they’ve been sleeping by the fire each night on a mattress they nabbed for the time being. They’ve talked about stealing a new trailer, but they both decided that waiting until Hog’s eye is bullet-free and Rat’s shoulder is better would be for the best.

Finally, Hog sighs and reaches up to pull off the mask. He hates his face. Rat knows that much, even though Mako hasn’t actually said the words. Even before the sniper, he flinched away when Jamie’s fingers brushed the left side of his face. The scarring around that eye is… well, an eyesore. He knows it. The other scars could maybe be seen as manly, the cut across the chin, two thin lines over his right cheek, but that left eye… He tries not to think about it as he reaches up for the bandage.

He underestimates the alcohol. Unwrapping them on his own isn’t possible. He feels dizzy trying, so he looks up to Jamie. It’s hard to tell how much of the red on his cheeks is due to alcohol and how much is due to shame. He just grunts lightly, swaying just a bit as he reaches out to Rat.

“Don’t worry ‘bout hurtin it.” he rumbles as his boyfriend moves closer. His cadence in a bit slower in his drunken state, but he’s not actually slurring any more than usual. “I can take it. Jus’ get it out.”

Beneath the bandages is not a pretty sight. Less so than usual. Hog’s eye has started to reform, but it’s… off. The shape is wrong. There is a noticeable divot in the orb where the bullet is preventing his eye from healing fully. There’s no iris or pupil, just cloudy white all over. On the bright side, nothing around it looks injured at all anymore… at least for the time being, there’s no way it will look as pristine when Rat is done.

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SQUEAL FOR ME!

sorry i’m late!!!

day one for roadhog week - favourite quote

[makoroadie-blog]

Consider this: Junkrat being completely inexperienced in kissing and anything related to sex. Also, being gentle is not really Roadhog’s thing. He does try though.

[makoroadie-blog]

Hog lowers his head as he was tied up. His hair is down, so the silver mask hides his features. He’s always kept it long as the final guard against others seeing his face, but it’s not as if Jamie hasn’t seen it before, it’s just... he’s ashamed. He feels pathetic that he needs this, that he can’t just control himself well enough, but the idea of hurting Junkrat is too much to bear. This is better. As the rope pinches his skin he stays almost eerily quiet, as usually Hog grunts and growls even when it’s just him and Jamie- it’s his natural inclinations.

When promised something of Rat’s for dinner he smiles weakly behind the curtain of hair, the mans voice sounding different, but calming in it’s own way. Roadhog is far enough gone from the booze that he doesn’t question it.

Laying back down in Rat’s lap again makes him feel even more vulnerable with his hands behind him. His back is arched, his already round body arcing upwards as if he’s presenting his stomach. Even if it’s a shameful position, he’s at least secure in the knowledge that he won’t hurt Jamie.

His breaths are shaky and uneven, but when the lips brush his lips they halt completely for a moment, leaning up towards Jamison.

Junkrat is good at distracting him.

He smiles at the words, forcing himself to keep his eye on Jamie’s face and not look to the sharp metals. He won’t think about the first time this happened, how the scars got there. He’s going to be okay. It’s Rat. It’s Rat, and Mako trusts Rat. His ears go a little pink at the name and his heart beats hard in his chest.

“Darl, hn?” he asks, lazy and low like he isn’t so terrified he wants to scream. There’s a small tightness in the back.

He knows they can only put it off for so long. Knows Rat’ll have to get started soon. He’s at least glad that he’s blind in the bad eye. This time he won’t see it go in. Last time he had to watch.

“... Talk t’ me.” he rumbles. “... One of y’stories. What yah ‘member.”

He’s told Rat in the past to keep telling the stories of things he remembers. Even if they are bad. Mostly because he knows how shit Jamie’s memory is, and telling the stories might help him retain things he wants to keep. Now, Hog thinks it might help him instead. Hearing Junkrat talking will keep him grounded in the moment. If it weren’t his eye, he wouldn’t need any of this. He has had Jamie tug bullets out of nearly every inch of him while barely flinching. This is different.

Even though the alcohol burned like hell in his throat, Hog chugs down the vodka with abandon as they settle down in their campsite for the night.

Over the past week they’d managed to dig themselves out a little hole few dozen miles from the destroyed trailer. They aren’t sure if the bounty hunters had friends who might come sniffing around, but they wanted to stay near the scraps until they are picked cleaned, and if anyone else did come… well, they could deal with them the same way they delt with the first wave, but with more eagerness and efficiency.

Tonight, though, Hog has to show Rat his face again. It had been a solid week of very obviously avoiding it. He’d cleaned his mask and thrown it on, wore it 24/7 again even though before their trailer was destroyed he’d started taking it off for bed if he didn’t need it… His excuse was that they couldn’t know if anyone else could see them, but the reality was and still is that the attack had brought up bad memories. His eye is a trigger point for him, something he’d only barely been getting better at letting Jamie see and touch, and now…

Well now, not only will Rat see and touch that side of his face, he has to take a bunch of fucking tools and dig around in his eye like it’s a gooey fucking sandbox. And even though Hog knows he should man up and stop letting himself think too much into it, he’s terrified.

And as a result, he is already on his second bottle of vodka.

To be fair, Hog does have a tolerance against alcohol combined with his size, it’s hard for him to actually get wasted, but not ‘two bottles’ hard. Usually about half a bottle will get him pretty damn buzzed, but Hog isn’t looking for buzzed and he and Rat both know it. He leans back against a tree, surveying their small camp with his one good eye.

They bought a tent that’s big enough for Rat and Hog together (Rat sorta has to be propped up on Hog’s gut for them to both ‘fit’, but it counts). They hadn’t used it yet, though, it’s just for emergencies, case it rains. For the most part they’ve been sleeping by the fire each night on a mattress they nabbed for the time being. They’ve talked about stealing a new trailer, but they both decided that waiting until Hog’s eye is bullet-free and Rat’s shoulder is better would be for the best.

Finally, Hog sighs and reaches up to pull off the mask. He hates his face. Rat knows that much, even though Mako hasn’t actually said the words. Even before the sniper, he flinched away when Jamie’s fingers brushed the left side of his face. The scarring around that eye is… well, an eyesore. He knows it. The other scars could maybe be seen as manly, the cut across the chin, two thin lines over his right cheek, but that left eye… He tries not to think about it as he reaches up for the bandage.

He underestimates the alcohol. Unwrapping them on his own isn’t possible. He feels dizzy trying, so he looks up to Jamie. It’s hard to tell how much of the red on his cheeks is due to alcohol and how much is due to shame. He just grunts lightly, swaying just a bit as he reaches out to Rat.

“Don’t worry ‘bout hurtin it.” he rumbles as his boyfriend moves closer. His cadence in a bit slower in his drunken state, but he’s not actually slurring any more than usual. “I can take it. Jus’ get it out.”

Beneath the bandages is not a pretty sight. Less so than usual. Hog’s eye has started to reform, but it’s… off. The shape is wrong. There is a noticeable divot in the orb where the bullet is preventing his eye from healing fully. There’s no iris or pupil, just cloudy white all over. On the bright side, nothing around it looks injured at all anymore… at least for the time being, there’s no way it will look as pristine when Rat is done.