A rather sudden bang distracts Roadhog
from his novel.
Dog-earing the page, he sets the worn book
down on his belly and sighs through his mask. Two years of playing bodyguard
has granted him enough experience to distinguish one bang from another.
Explosions, while outside the norm for the everyday citizen, have a surprising
array of sounds that Roadhog has become well acquainted with. If anyone cared
to ask, he’s sure he could name every type of explosive he’s heard. In fact, it
has come to the point where he could give a rough estimate on how much damage a
bomb might inflict from its noise alone, and he supposes that might be an
impressive feat if he weren’t so invested in making sure the creator of said
bomb remains in one piece.
Fortunately for him (and his boss, he must
concede), the bang does not belong to any sort of explosive.
Summary: have violent ends. rival gang families au. shallura valentine for onemerryjester
A/N: this is for the one and only@onemerryjester, a talented and wonderful part of the shallura community! happy valentine’s day! I know it’s on the shorter side but hopefully quantity over quality <3
rated high T for very light nsfw content & brief mentions of violence
She turns, a smile already tugging at her lips despite her best efforts, the shimmering fabric of her grown swishing along her hips. Takashi Shirogane is no less impeccably dressed, with crisp cuffs and a black suit that matches his eyes. His bangs, a peculiar streak of white hair, is off his forehead for once, and now there’s nothing to disguise the pink scar running across the bridge of his nose.
Her eyes trace the hard edge of his jawline, before meeting his gaze. “Mr. Shirogane,” she greets politely, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Her hair of starlight has been pulled into a thick braid that goes down almost to the low backline of her dress. It’s a deep navy blue with diamonds sewn into the fabric, and she watch the way his eyes follow the small sash of fabric tied around her waist.
“Don’t tell me someone as lovely as you doesn’t have a date for the evening?” he asks, raising his brow.
Allura allows herself to smile, and bows her head when he offers her his arm. The slight creak of metal tells her it’s his prosthetic, but she still places her hand on the crook of his elbow without hesitation. “Apparently I do now.”