#Making me the smuggest of all commentators on other people’s problems

[jackdawsfavorite]

I’ve been watching the latest season of love island USA on my normie [affectionate] sister’s rec, and while it’s good tv it’s also got me like, “fucked up that they made a world where girls don’t kiss,” so naturally I type “bisexual reality tv” into a search engine and learn that there was a pretty recent- christ, never mind, it premiered five years ago, how time flies -that in 2019 there was a bisexuals-only season of Are You The One and I’m like, “That sounds fun,” and one episode in it Is except that there are like ten seconds of poly-related commentary that make me pull my own hair a little.

[inexchangeforyoursoul]

Have some proper content from me lmao ( AO3 )

It’s been a long one…  He’d already been tired for the briefings and whatnot in the morning, which was followed by a day spent on retrieving smuggled support items with the League. It was fun, he supposes… the sneaky mission impossible thing. Much more enjoyable than lying through his teeth, at the very least. Then it turned out that the loot included some extra booze in courtesy of Giran, leading to this impromptu celebration that’s been going on for hours. Which wouldn’t be a problem, if not for the fact that it’s past 11pm already and he needs some goddamn rest. An all-nighter before illegal activities? Never again.

Whatever high quality drink there was in the two bottles draped in Cyrillic text sure packed a punch, though. Tomura was worryingly unaffected and Sako was keeping himself together, but a lick of the stuff knocked Jin and Himiko the fuck out and had Spinner in the corner humming off-tune to whatever came on the radio. Doesn’t stop him from chugging down what’s left in one go, though.

All in all, on top of wistfully thinking of his bed, Hawks would be lying if he wasn’t rather buzzed, too.

But even that’s no excuse for this.

“I’m not sure what I should be more upset about,” he mumbles with half a pout on his face, breaking the quite possibly hour-long silence. “The fact that I’m spending my last few hours off on a Saturday night slow dancing with a dude in a dump, that it’s you of all people, or… that I’m actually enjoying it.” He’s being slowly but surely lulled into sleep, in fact. Concentrate, man. Shake off the warm coziness and concentrate.

There’s a short, easy-to-miss hum that has an almost content ring to it. “You were the one to scrape me up from the floor, remember? Any and all complaints are on you, feather duster.”

That’s fair; a smile ghosts his lips, but he doesn’t bother with an answer. One of Dabi’s cool hands gets bored of tugging at the cluster of feathers on the small of his back since forever, so it digs into them, earning a pleased sigh from Hawks as he snuggles a little closer. The asshole doesn’t even smell that bad for someone who barely showers… a little pungent, a little burnt. Must be his quirk’s doing. It sterilizes everything.

“… you sure have become comfortable around me,” the villain notes as he plays with the red plumage, slowing the hardly-dance (that started as another hardly-dance with a bouncy idiot dragging his even more drunk ass around, making him almost throw the fuck up in the process) down until they come to a halt. There’s a thoughtful look on his face. “Especially for what a nervous, jumpy wreck you are.”

Hawks lifts his head from the shoulder in a moment of vague clarity; he’s… right. For starters, he wouldn’t be clinging to Dabi like this if he was even remotely sane, the guy could grill him on the spot without effort if he wanted to.

Could. But he also knows… that he won’t.

“Well… your own damn fault for making me feel safe,” he sighs eventually after the spark of common sense slips away, and leans his chin back down. Fuck, he really needs to crawl into bed asap. But first he’ll have to, well… wake up. Then pocket the rest of his feathers so he can take the midnight train relatively incognito… then either take the elevator that he hates up to his apartment, or take the currently inhuman effort and get all of his feathers from both the bag and his room to zoom up. And hopefully not hit the one closed window. Ugh.

“Oho, and I almost blamed it on the booze. Thought you didn’t trust me?”

He moans in annoyance; there’s a mocking smirk hidden in Dabi’s voice. “Hell yeah, I don’t. But, like… you never made any remotely suspicious moves. What am I supposed to do right now? Kick you in the nuts, for which this is a golden opportunity for, by the way… maybe headbutt your face, earning a number of piercing imprints? Or just, like… scream? Oh nooo~, big bad criminal has me in his clutchesss~”

The overdramatic damsel whines earn a breathless laugh from the other, who then pulls away. “Okay, okay… show your face, midget. Look at me, you hear?”

“Anyway, I just ‘ave no energy for that shit,” Hawks continues unperturbed and motionless in not wanting to let go as the logorrhea wave goes on. He already misses being warm. Bummer. “Hell, you don’t trust me and just gave me the back scratching of the decade! What’s the deal with that, huh?” Two cold, rugged hands, which are pretty much the polar opposites of Dabi’s heated torso, come up to cup his face and tilt it upward.

“See?” SEE?! There he goes again. Still, being touched this gently is really… nice. It’s not something he’s used to… nor something he would have thought Dabi capable of being, to be frank. He can barely keep his eyes from closing. “This is what I’m talking about. My shit is safe. About-to-fall-asleep safe, with that big fucking payload of safety that you dropped on me. I’m gonna sleep pretty damn sound tonight, if I say so. Huggin’ my pillow and shit, like a bear… full of honey. At hibernation station.” Wow. Nothing he says makes fucking sense anymore. Thinking before opening his mouth is everything but an option right now. Oh, one more thing: “ … and I’m no midget,” he adds while lifting both pointing fingers.

“Mhmm, mhmm,” nods Dabi after every other line, observing the hero’s pink-tainted face. “… I’ve suspected as much, but you really are more than just a little tipsy,” he concludes then as a matter-of-fact. He taps Hawks’ face a few times with a hand. “I’m warning you that there are no pillows to brood on around here if you dare fall asleep on me, chicken.”

“Hrmm… Whatever. Your bony ass will do. Is warm.” … okay, whoopsy-daisy, he definitely should not have said that. Even if he finds all this touching enjoyable beyond words… and admittance. Speaking of which, the hell is even Dabi’s game? This shit could be taken as interest.

… wait. Wait, fuck…  what if he is being flirty!? Abort, ABORT.

The adrenaline rush that comes with the thought dissipates like half of his exhaustion; Hawks peels his eyes open to take a good look at the villain. But his first reaction is to squint. Then squint even harder.

“Waiiita’seeec… are you… sober? Already?” His voice hitches high with disbelief and wings flare in a hiccup of scorn. “How the fuck, you downed like half a bottle of that shit! You were a mess— no, a disaster!!” he continues in an accusatory tone, with puffed wings of indignance and air karate chops, as if being the bigger mess at the moment was supposed to be a jab specifically at him. It’s Hawks who’s supposed to be the sane and rational one around these parts…! It’s him!!

“My body’s long burned through that shit, birdy,” Dabi informs him, his face infuriatingly and inexplicably neutral while sporting the smuggest barely-smile on his face.

The comment itself, on the other hand, rouses a goofy snort-giggle from Hawks, which reminds him of the fact that he is, in fact, everything but sober. ‘Burned through it…’ fucking hell.

Unimpressed head shake; Dabi lets go of his face and takes two steps back while putting his hands on the hips instead to have a good, condescending look at the other. Hawks is trying his best to suppress the giggles, and is leaning to wherever gravity takes him before his wings, relatively small as they are now, do their damnest to correct his balance while on autopilot.

He finishes his checkup with a deep sigh. “Yep… as wasted as they come.

“ You,” the hero points at him, tip of his finger as eerily rigid on target like a chicken’s head while he sways around lightly, “were near passed-out on the floor, young man.” The corner of his mouth is still twitching as his face is getting redder.

“Not anymore. You are about to kip over, though,” he states, tilting his head. “And damn if I’m not gonna watch you try not to.” Having said that, he steps forward with a hint of an amused smirk to give a tentative shove himself.

Hawks leans back fast and far enough from the impending hand of doom that it would indeed make him stumble backwards, if not for grabbing onto Dabi’s jacket. The villain connects with his target meanwhile- via finger flick to his temples.

His wings reflexively flap once as he’s yet to retain balance of any kind, and Hawks feels the redness creep up to his ears in embarrassment, then he peeks downwards… but the stars just aren’t aligned to put the returning idea into motion. Not if he wants to avoid falling ass backwards, that is. He sticks his lower lip out a bit, still staring. “… should ‘ave kicked you in the groin while I had the chance.”

“Too little, too late. Face is up here, bird brain.” He pulls the hero back onto his wobbly legs by the collar. “Get your wings flapping and your ass home… you are a hilarious mess.”

“Good enough for a joke… But, an absolutely ill-advised suggesshon. Drunk,” he says, pointing at himself with his free hand (as the other has yet to let go of Dabi), then back at his wings; “as small as they get while rede— reartaning… retaining funky– fuck it, they are… just big enough to lift me. When I’m not fucking like this. There.” Damn, if he’s stuttering, all hope is lost. Next time he’s packing snacks to drown out the booze before it drowns him. He wouldn’t risk flying like this either way, but damn it all, if Dabi really is fully sober… god, he’ll never let him live this down, will he.

“‘Flapping’ around like this would actually end up about as well as that horrendous mobile game did for any of us,” Hawks moans then. “Which you would pay to see, I know. Anyway, what I’m saying is… that the only way I’m flying right now… is if you chuck me, pal. And that ain’t gonna get me anywhere.” Even getting to the nearest train station would be a hassle by flight. Actually… it will be a hassle, no matter what, his legs are not exactly—

“WoAH…!” is the single most natural reaction he has to… well, being lifted off the motherfucking ground like a toddler. “The hell are you doing?!”

This is not something that just happens to the one guy on the block with functional wings, you know? When Hawks wants to leave planet Earth, it’s out of his own volition. It’s also him who divebombs villains or snatches various people off the ground, or from the air, it’s never the other way around. This? This is weird, this is unnatural, hell… literally unheard of, actually?

Because he can’t, for the life of him, remember anyone, ever carrying him. Not even as a child.

Not this way, at the very least… he has been on a stretcher a couple of times, but that’s never a good experience… you don’t land on one without a good, all kinds of painful reason. It feels nothing like this. This… this actually feels…

“Giddy up, then, because I’m taking you to the station. I sure as hell don’t feel like dealing with you in the morning,” Dabi huffs, interrupting the other’s epiphany. A drunk Hawks, he can deal with; he’s tolerable, if not, dare say, adorable, but hungover Hawks?! That just sounds like a living nightmare. He’ll have to deal with his own headache in a few hours. He’ll pass on this, hard.

“… you’re unnecessarily heavy for a half-pint canary,” he mumbles after a few steps; the bird has some muscle to his name, but is no body builder. And a shorty. He’d be impressed if said weight wasn’t literally on his shoulders. Also… he’s a little worried about the hero’s sudden silence. He’s got enough presence to hold onto him, though, so the guy can’t be that far gone.

“… Well,” Hawks drawls after a pause, “fun fact, Dabi… when at peak condition, my wings add up to roughly fifty per cent of my body weight. We’re being hella easy on you.” He gives a tentative swing with them, barely missing the villain’s head with his right one.

“Do that again, and I’ll make sure that you won’t be able to fly for a month.”

He lets out a soft laugh at that. The warm, alcohol-induced tingles still dancing at his fingertips may be a factor to consider, but he’s thoroughly enjoying this.

Not him being the one to fly just to get his head over the sea of people, gasping for air, even without the crowds being present… is an experience for sure. And being so much taller while still rooted to the ground one way or another, and able to see everything there is to see on an empty street at night feels straight-up sublime, and the wind that the freight train passing them carries with itself is blowing through his hair as the ka-chak, ka-chak of it quickly fades into the abyss, and, and…

… this is nice. Holy shit, is this nice.

He closes his eyes for a moment… which, of course, ends up not being just a moment, but the rest of the trip. He doesn’t even notice Dabi stopping until he speaks up.

“Your stop, Tweety. Wake the fuck up, man, I’m not your perch.”

“… ah.” The disappointment slipped through that one… oh well. The fact that he gets dropped about as gently as a sack of potatoes doesn’t help, either. He actually fell asleep there, didn’t he.

He takes a look around; they stopped at the end of the alley almost opposite the station. That’s good… he has yet to put on a shitty disguise. AND has his feathers attached, that one won’t do at all, into the bag they go, and out of the bag the strack suit comes. While he’s waking up and doing his thing, Dabi’s already sneaked over the fences of the next two houses and struts up to the platform from the street corner one over. With a head scratch and a sigh, he trods towards the entrance a minute later, too, attempting to look like someone who’s on villain trail.

The doors of the train slide open, and he collapses opposite Dabi, who’s fiddling with his phone. A few seconds later he pushes the button to slip back out. There’s a fresh note folded to as small as humanly possible left on the seat, lost next to baked good crumbs on the left, a piece of chocolate wrap just past that, and a lone piece of gum that looks as if it had been there for a while.

“‘He’ better send a message so I know he wasn’t murdered, kidnapped, or arrested on the way home,” Dabi says as the doors close, muffling the last bit. He turns around.

Hawks lifts a hand as a sign of understanding. The villain nods and swings his own arm in a half-hearted wave as he leaves. He takes a look around the outer walls before slinking back out and heading off to the opposite direction they had come from.

Hawks is left alone with his thoughts in the empty car. Eventually he remembers that he has a KFC cap at the bottom of the otherwise empty bag, too, along with… two leftover nuggets from yesterday that he forgot about. Cold and probably stale, but shit, that’s a godsent right now. As the train leaves the platform and he bites into his surprise reserves, he starts pondering.

Somehow… he’ll need to make him do that again.

[wttp]

Could I please get a reader x mccree where they start off as bro friends (like the bro memes) but then they start crushing on each other big time? Everyone else can see that they like to play each other but they’re super oblivious to each other’s feelings. Preferably male reader but gender neutral is also fine.

- You meet each other when Soldier 76 teamed you up for a long-term infiltration mission.

- The two of you disliked each other at first, but after spending time together you started to warm up. You began to laugh along to his terrible jokes and like his relaxed personality, as he also began appreciating some your traits too.

- You often hang out together between missions and consider yourselves as best friends.

- As you spend more and more time together, your feelings for each other start to grow stronger. You both understand what those feelings mean, but are too nervous to confess.

- A lot of people think that you guys are a couple when they met you. Your colleagues are astonished that neither of you notices that your feelings are shared by the other, but decide to let you figure it out in your own time. Well, most of them anyway.

As the sun begins its descent towards the ground, the wind, birds and the occasional gunshot is all that can be heard. The shooters are neither criminals nor Talon, as they are instead of you and your friend Jesse McCree. You, Jesse, Ana Amari and Soldier 76 are currently on a mission to help a small town clean out the criminals and gangs that have been haunting them. Today, after patrolling around the city and dealing with bad guys, Soldier commented, in his usual grumpy fashion, that your aim seems out of practice, and that you should fix it as soon as possible. He had a fair point, to be honest. You were pretty new to Overwatch and had therefore mostly been responsible for small tasks like paperwork, errands and the occasional reconnaissance mission with more experienced members, before this mission. Deciding that you could indeed use a bit of training, you asked Jesse for help, and began placing glass bottles and tins on an old log outside the base, as practice dummies. Jesse found you a regular rifle to practice with and reminded you of the basics. Ana and Soldier are looking on from a distance, as there was next to no paperwork to be done on this relatively quiet mission.

But enough about them, let´s get back to you and the cowboy. As you stand there attempting, and failing, to knock over the bottles and tins, Jesse can´t help but let out a small chuckle at your determined effort, as he watches you carefully aim, tongue sticking out of the edge of your mouth. Despite your continuous attempts, however, you once again fail to hit your targets, leaving you annoyed as you stomp the ground, before exclaiming “Oh, God dammit!”

This time Jesse manages to hold his chuckle, as he comes nearer. “Come on, don´t be like that” he says as he surveys your positioning. “Ok, I´m gonna try something, so hold still for a sec´”. As you stand still with the riffle raised, Jesse gently uses his hands to move your arms and upper back to readjust your stance. You are very thankful that he is paying attention to your stance and not your face, as the latter is currently red like a tomato. After a couple of seconds, Jesse steps away and nods, as he says “Well that should do it. Try again”.

You once again take aim at the log, focusing on a mediums sized tin, with a large bean logo on the front. You focus and pull the trigger. To your surprise (and Jesse´s pride) your shot pierces the tin, knocking it off the log. You turn to Jesse who is standing next to you with quite possibly the smuggest smile you have ever seen. “Heh, see, I told ya I´m great” he says. You can´t help but smile at his antics, before letting out a mumbled “You have no idea”.

As you realize that you said that a bit louder than intended, you notice Jesse glancing at you, sporting a small rosy tint to his cheeks. “Sorry, did ya say something?”. You panic for a moment, before quickly replying “Oh, no, nothing at all. I was just thinking out loud”. You´re sure you are blushing like crazy right now, but it seems that Jesse bought your excuse. He turns towards you, smiling, as he says “Well, alright then, everybody does that now and again I guess”. You feel so embarrassed at your slip, that Jesse´s next comment catches you completely off guard. “Just remember, if you ever wanna talk to somebody other than yourself, my door is always open”. His smile makes your heart flutter, and this time you manage to control your voice, as you reply “I´ll remember that”.

Your moment is interrupted by the shouting voice of Soldier 76, as he tells you to get ready for the next patrol. Looking at Jesse you muster up your most confident smile, before saying “Thank you for the help. Really, it helped a lot”. He looks you directly in the eyes as he answers, “No problem darlin´, I´m just happy to help”. You smile and fight to stop your blush, without noticing that Jesse is blushing just as much as you are, as he tries to control the nervousness in his voice.

Having calmed yourselves, you both begin walking to the entrance of the base. As you reach the entrance, you are stopped by a gentle hand on your arm. Looking to the side you see Ana Amari calmly smiling at you. “(Y/n), I have been meaning to talk to you. Could you spare a moment?”. “Sure, no problem” you reply, as you turn to face Jesse. “Sorry, I´ll catch up with you, when I´m done, okay?”. Jesse smiles and replies “Sure thing. Have a good day Miss Amari” before he walks in to join Soldier. You turn your attention towards Ana and notice that her face has changed, her usual calm appearance now replaced by a knowing smile as she looks expectantly at you. As she now has your full attention, she begins her questioning: “Sooo… When are you going to do it?”.

Unsure of what the former captain is referring to, you simply ask: “I´m sorry Miss, do what?”. She rolls her eyes a little, before clarifying “Tell McCree how you feel, of course”. You´re surprised by the suggestion and immediately become flustered. You avoided her gaze, and focus on your hands instead. “Whatever do you mean Miss?”. As you avoided her question, Ana simply sighs before stating “Believe me (Y/n) I might be old, but I´m not blind yet. It is obvious that you and McCree care greatly for each other, especially with the way you both always blush and glance at each other when you think the other person isn´t looking”.

“Wow, is it really that obvious?” you say, surprised that you are that terrible at hiding your feelings. “To everyone but you two, it would seem” the veteran replies with a kind smile. You understand that she wants to help, but can´t help but doubt if it´s really true. “Look, I appreciate that you´re trying to help, but I just don´t think he really likes me like that”. At your continued denial Ana nods her head, before adding “I understand that feeling, I really do. Although I must say, that even though you´re probably the person who spends the most time with McCree, it is surprising how easily you overlook the signals he sends out every time you come near him”.

At this revelation, you are filled with both happiness and worry. On one hand, it feels fantastic to know that Jesse may be interested in you, but one the other hand you dread potentially having given him the impression that you don´t like him back, by not reacting to his “signals” as Ana put it. Noticing your silent thinking, Ana decides to end the conversation so you can clear your head. “But you are right, this is something between the two of you. Now, I think we better hurry, Jack gets pretty annoyed when people take too long after all”

You nod at your superior before heading inside. When you arrive in the common room, you notice that Soldier and Jesse appear to have had a very lively discussion. Jesse´s head is completely red, and Soldier is shaking his head, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like “Just tell him, for Christ’s sake”. You worriedly walk over to your friend, before putting a palm on his forehead. “Are you alright Jesse, or should I call a medic?”. His blush now even more noticeable than before, he quickly stammers out an excuse, as he assures you that nothing is wrong. Though you are not entirely convinced, you decide to drop the subject. “Well, if you say so. But don´t think that we don´t care. If you feel the least bit ill, you come to see me immediately, understand?”. As he hears you practically giving him an order, he straightens up in the most comical way possible, before answering “Yes Sir!”. Your concerned exterior cracks at his antics and you begin laughing, prompting him to join you.

As you two are laughing yourself half to death, the two veterans are still standing a few feet away, waiting for you to be done. Huffing in his usual manner, Soldier 76 quietly grumbles as he looks at the two of you. “And they call us blind”. Ana lets out an amused giggle at her comrade’s grumpiness and also partly at the silliness of your issue. As the two of you stop laughing for a second to catch your breath, the sniper quietly adds “I do hope they tell each other soon though. They would make quite the couple”: Soldier doesn´t say anything right away, but after some time he merely says “Your right. They really would”.