stay vigilant ☆

[cracks my knuckles] i may have had to google this reference to remember where it was from but ok i can work with this. not really GoT AU, but maybe fantasy AU… someone here has been wanting to rewatch lotr. this probably isn’t what you meant by your prompt, and it REALLY got away from me, i’m sorry, ANYWAY here we GO

—

There is nothing quite like realizing that the sky is moving.

Jesse stares up at the smoke billowing from the forest. His blade hangs at his side, heavy as a hammer.

Heavy as a white flag being lowered when the cries for blood are not sated.

Heavy as the weight of a beast’s paw.

Around him, his companions scrambles to and fro, not seeing what Jesse sees, not paying attention as the movement through the smoke unwinds and uncurls. Serpentine, but greater. And not as one; there are multiple sinuous movements casting a shade through the blaze, separate. Jesse cannot see, blinking through the blinding sting of smog, but he thinks there are perhaps two.

Perhaps three.

And there is a mighty rumble, a thunder like something heavy has fallen, and then with a great rush of wind, the smoke clears for just a moment. His companions stop; Zarya, beside him, lets out a noise like she’s being strangled, her hands locked tight around her great-axe.

Before them, and in front of what appears to be a massive, clawed hand, stands a man. His eyes are black glass, and his hair is black silk, a sheet of shadow billowing out behind him like a flame. He looks at Jesse and sees into him.

The Dragon of the South Wind.

i love hanzo’s sweet tooth more than i love myself

—

Jesse likes to think he’s a bit of a Hanzo connoisseur. Sure, he doesn’t exactly have the man down pat, 100%, but Hanzo was an enigma. He doesn’t think he’ll know everything about Hanzo when they’re both 90 years old and sittin’ in rocking chairs somewhere, even if he asked him something new every day.

But that’s just who Hanzo is. Jesse knows he’s the same way, and that’s just the way they’re gonna be.

Still, he knows the important things.

!!! hell yeah boyyyy

-----

It is early in the morning when Hanzo wakes up to an empty bed.

This is... unusual. Usually, McCree woke up after Hanzo, and more than that, he absolutely insisted on staying in bed for as long as possible. Hanzo had grown used to waking up with McCree snuggled up tight in his arms, and the cowboy would wake up immediately if Hanzo made moves to leave the bed, latching on and kissing Hanzo’s throat until the archer complied with the silent demand, usually laughing.

Still, Hanzo reaches out a sleepy hand and feels the bed is warm beside him. And, more than that, when he cracks an eye open, McCree is within view, standing at the bedside table.

In his hands is Hanzo’s hair ribbon, the silk cradled carefully in rough, calloused palms. He watches as Jesse rubs his thumb over the fabric, then begins to attempt to tie his hair up with it.

He flinches as Hanzo lets a low chuckle rumble from his sleep-scratched throat, but doesn’t put the ribbon down, only turning to grin sheepishly at him.

“Mornin’, Han,” Jesse says.

“You’ll need a hair-tie,” Hanzo replies, and scoots closer to pull one from the beside drawer.