#tybaltwrites

BikerAu inspired by @breezycheezyart

.//.

The bar wasn’t dangerous, but it buzzed with that kind of energy—rough voices, clinking glasses, old rock rolling out from the jukebox. Shiro sat in his usual seat near the back, one arm slung over the chair beside him, eyes half-lidded but alert. He was already nursing a drink when the door opened, and everything stilled just a little.

Allura stepped inside like she didn’t notice the shift. White jeans, white jacket, and a pale pink top that hugged her like a secret. Her heels echoed sharp and deliberate against the floor. She didn’t head toward him right away. Just gave him the briefest glance and made her way to the bar to wait her turn.

And the room noticed. Shiro noticed them noticing.

One guy nudged another. A group at the pool table stilled, eyes drifting. Even the bartender hesitated a beat too long on another customer’s tab. One guy by the jukebox tilted his head. Another looked her up and down too slow to be casual. Even some of the women looked curious—like they were trying to figure out what she was doing here, in that. In those heels.

He didn’t raise his voice. Just leaned forward slightly, tone low but carrying: “Princess—c’mere a sec.”

She turned, caught off-guard by the nickname. A smile played at her lips—slow, knowing. She crossed the room like she’d been planning to anyway, heels tapping a rhythm that only he seemed to hear. When she reached him, he didn’t say a word. Just caught her by the waist and drew her between his knees, his hand resting low on the small of her back.

“This couldn’t wait?” she asked, fingers skimming over the line of his collar.

Shiro didn’t blink. “Didn’t like the way they were looking at you.”

“Hmm.” Her voice dipped, soft and amused. “I thought you didn’t get jealous.”

“I don’t,” he said, sliding his hand beneath the edge of her jacket, skin to skin. “Not unless I have a reason.”

Allura tilted her head, caught between a smirk and something warmer. “You want your drink or not?”

“You can go get them,” he murmured, eyes still on hers. “But take your time.”

Her brows rose, intrigued. “Why?”

He leaned in—just enough for her to feel the whisper of his breath against her jaw. “Because I want them to watch you come back to me.”

.//.

BikerAu.

“Hey, listen,” Shiro says after he ends his phone call. “I gotta run. I need to handle some things down at the shop.” He sounds a bit annoyed about the fact that he has to temporarily cut their day short. He shrugs on his jacket before he fishes out his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans. “Here’s my card. The PIN is 2703. Get some snacks for movie night and that nasty sparkling water you like so much because, apparently, you hate yourself, and I’ll meet up with you later tonight.” 

Can they ever have a normal conversation?

Allura eyes the heavy, steel, black card in his hands before she takes it and slides it into an empty slot in her pink wallet. “Wow, first you let me pick movie night after you swore I was never allowed to choose again because I made you watch literally the greatest movie ever made, and now you’re giving me your card, your PIN, and telling me to buy whatever I want. You’re very trusting today.” She’s only teasing, but she’s also bored and wants to pick a fight. 

“Shrek 3 is-”

“Shrek the 3rd,” she corrects him with a stiff finger. 

He shakes his head with a frown. “Yeah, no. I’m not saying all that. You know why? Because it doesn’t deserve it.”

The answer is no; they can not have a normal conversation.

“Also,” Shiro continues casually, tucking his wallet back into his pocket. “I have to trust you. Especially if you’re going to be my wife one day.” 

“Wrong and confident?” she says sarcastically, folding her arms over her chest. “How on earth did I get so lucky?”

He shrugs with a playful grin. “I ask myself the same thing.” He runs his fingers through his ebony hair for the sake of dramatics. It’s fun seeing him let loose. “Tall, dashing, handsome and while I have your attention you should know that I’m honestly the funniest person I’ve ever met. I’m quite the catch, ya know?” He finishes his string of self-appointed compliments with a click of his tongue before he climbs onto his bike and starts up the engine. 

She gives a sarcastic laugh to mask her genuine one. She loves not giving him the satisfaction of thinking he’s funny. “A catch, you say?” She doesn’t need to follow him towards his bike, but she does. She likes holding on to the last shreds of their conversations, even if they only last a moment. “Maybe I should throw you back.” 

He slowly walks his bike backwards out towards the street. “Too late, Princess,” he says over the gentle purr of the bike. “I’m already in your head. Just you watch, girl...I'm gonna marry you one day.” He winks at her shocked expression before he drives off.

She watches as he disappears around the corner until the roar of the engine is muted by traffic, and she stands still as the thoughts race through her head. There were so many things to pinpoint like what kind of snacks should she get. Or what awful movie should she pick out just to make him watch it. But the one thought that shouted out over all else:

“Are we dating?” 

.~.~.

Shallura || Biker Au. 

“So besides fixing up bikes and giving me a hard time, what are your hobbies?” 

“Giving you a hard time is my hobby,” he responds with a wink and a playful point of his spoon. 

She digs her own spoon back into their shared ice cream with a click of her tongue. “Besides bikes, giving me a hard time, and not listening, what are your hobbies, Shirogane?” There’s something about the way she says his name, dripped in sarcasm or not, that makes his fingers twitch. 

“I like to live life on the edge.” His reply was as smooth as dark chocolate; rich and bitter in the same breath. 

Her eyes widen a fraction and she feels her curiosity spike at the same time her heart skips a beat. It always tends to do that when they have these conversations. They dubbed them, “Late-Night Variety Hour.” She would never tire of asking him questions and he would never resist the urge to return the favor. 

She sees the corners of his lips curl upwards into his infamous boyish smirk. She stole the spoonful of ice cream, one comprised solely of cookie dough, he was saving for himself before she popped into her mouth and spoke. “Well?”

He watches her eat the spoonful of cookie dough that was never meant to be his to begin and a raises a brow. “Well, what?” He loves playing stupid with her. He loves the way she would get riled up when he never played along with the script she preplanned in her head. 

It’s the little things. 

“Aren’t you going to tell me how you like to ‘live on the edge’?” She finishes her sentence with a deep mockery of his rich, baritone voice and air quotes. The spoon in her delicate fingers caught the dim light of her kitchen and it’s reflection dances on the walls of her kitchen. 

“You think you can handle it, Princess?” he challenges, leaning over and placing his weight on his forearm. He almost laughs at the way her eyes narrow at him. There are times when she’s more competitive than Keith. The fire dances behind her blue eyes and her mouth tightens into a defiant line. 

“Trust me,” she said, digging out another gold mine of cookie dough, “there is nothing I can’t handle.” 

“Except going above 20mph on my bi-“ His rebuttal is cut off by a soft jab to his arm. “You know it’s true.” 

“Fucking tell me.” 

“I love it when you cuss,” he confesses, purposely going off-topic. “Who would have thought, Miss Perfect Pink Princess would have the mouth of a goddam sailor?” 

“And who would have thought Mr. I Mix Plain And Leather Because I Think It’s A Fashion Statement would stall just because he wants attention would take his sweet time telling me something he knows I want to know?” 

“That was low.”

“It was.”

“I look great in leather.”

“You look okay at best.”

“Tell me you’re sorry.”

“I will not.”

He shrugs.“That’s fair.” 

Allura couldn’t keep up her straight face any longer, and a laugh escapes her sugar-stained lips. “Are you going to tell me or not?” she says, leaning back onto her hands from her position on the floor.

“Fine, fine, fine. No need to twist my arm.” He fishes out more cookie dough and rolls it into a neat ball for her to take from him later. He was never a big fan of cookie dough, nor sweets if he’s being honest. “At 3 am, I like to go down to the supermarket and put back all of the displaced items people are too lazy to return to where they originally found it.” Another smirk comes to his lips at her reaction. “I feel like a passive-aggressive vigilante.” 

He watches her reaction and he’ll never forget the look of her eyes as they went from confusion, to relief, to a brilliant show of affection and excitement. 

Allura’s head whipped towards the clock on the microwave. “It’s 2:56 now,” she said, taking his spoonful of delicious cookie dough before she closed the tub. “We can make it if we hurry.”

Shiro raises a brow but couldn’t hide his smile. “You’re serious?a”

She stands and offers out a hand towards him. “Show me what it’s like to live on the edge.” 

Instead of taking her hand to stand, he pulls her back towards him. “I’m driving.”

,~’

“Where have you been all day?” she asked, sliding away her now closed laptop before she turned to face him fully. He usually came by around three in the afternoon if he didn’t have work that day. And if he didn’t come by, then he’d at least call or text her. Her eyes darted to the digital clock on the stove. It was almost 10:30 at night. 

He casually walked past her and into the kitchen in search of something to snack on. “Out,” he told her simply from inside the pantry. 

She raised a brow. “Out?”

“Out,” he repeated. “Do you really not have anything in here to eat besides for these cardboard rice cakes?” A granola bar to the back of the head promptly answered his question. Quickly, he reached out his hand at the base of his spine, catching the falling projectile. He brought the snack to his face, wagging it at her. “Nice throwing arm ya got there. You gonna try out for the Yankees with that bad boy?”

She frowned. “So are you not going to tell me where you’ve been?”

He pulled back a chair and sat down with a hard thud. “Why do you wanna know so bad?” He opened the snack and took a bite. It wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought it would be. 

“Because you just can’t disappear all day and then show up at my doorstep after dark, expecting me to feed you.” 

“I’m not at your doorstep, I’m at your dinner table,” he said through another bite. “And this hardly qualifies as food.” She narrowed her eyes in a warning, but he refused to give her what she wanted. Instead, he leaned towards her with a sly grin. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re jealous, Princess.”

She’s too distracted to realize that she left the metal handle of the pot settled perfectly over the open heat, and by the time she’s able to fix her miscalculation, it’s too late. 

Her pained shriek immediately puts him on his feet and panic encases him when he sees her holding her wounded hand to her chest. He’s at her side faster than he gives himself credit for. 

“Let me see,” he asserts, gently prying open her hand. The angry, red mark on her palm tells him that he’s definitely dealing with a burn. He curses to himself before he lifts her up and places her on the stone ledge. “Don’t move.”

If Allura wasn’t hurt, she would have chastised him for treating her like a child. 

Quickly maneuvering through the cottage, he finds a cloth before he soaks it in cool water. He rigs out the excess water and he’s back in front of Allura’s collection of herbs. “Which one of these is good for burns?” he calls out. He doesn’t recognize a single thing of what’s in front of him. He needs to make labels soon. 

“Grindelia.” 

“And which one would that be?”

“Next to the Saffron.”

“You’re making this really difficult.”

“I’m not the one who can’t identify basic herbs.”

“And I’m not the one who stupidly burned her hand.” He knows he made a mistake in his choice of words when she quietly mumbles that it’s the fourth bottle from the right of the sink. He’s watched Allura make medicine more than enough to be confident in his muddling skills, and the herbs are a fine paste within a couple of minutes. 

Taking her hand in one hand and the paste in the other, he smears the herbs across the palm of her hand. Allura’s hand flinches and she tries to pull away from the burn the salve gives her but his grip is unyielding around her wrist.

“Sorry,” he says under his breath as he continues to apply the medicine, and Allura feels her heart skip a beat. It’s the first time he’s ever shown any sort of compassion towards her. She wills her trembling to stop but it does little to nothing. 

When he finishes, he wraps the cloth around it before he ties the ends securely around her wrist. 

Allura’s fingers ghost over the makeshift bandage and she already feels the healing properties of the grindelia working as it seeps into her palm. “Thank you.” 

Shiro watches her for a second before he places his hands on her hips to set down on the floor. “Be more careful next time.” 

She continues making whatever potion she was brewing, but his time, she can’t help but notice that he isn’t as far away from her as he was before.

~

Allura leans forward and takes a careful whiff of the contents within the jar. “Elderflower,” she says with certainty after a moment.

Shiro nods, taking the quill and inscribing the name of the ingredient on the jar with a rough hand before he closes it tight, but careful not to tighten it too tight for her to reopen later. He then stands behind her and places the jar within her hands. Gently grabbing her wrist, he resets her hands on the desk before them so she can once again map out the coarse surface of the work area he carved for her. She doesn’t hesitate to let him take control; it’s a routine they have been at all morning. He then guides her hand upward, making sure her knuckles brush against each shelf before he lands on the 3rd shelf up and two jars to the right.

“Here,” he says, finalizing its destination before he releases her wrist and sets the jar on the shelf. “Now show me where the calendula is.”

She nods, resetting her hands back on the desk before she reaches up, brushing her knuckles against each shelf. “Two shelves up, and 4 to the left,” she whispers to herself and her hands follow. When her hand lands on a jar, she makes a questioning sound.

Shiro smiles. “Perfect.” He almost laughs at the accomplished look on her face. He disappears from behind her and she patiently waits for his return. It isn’t long before he’s back with a new jar.

“What’s this?”

~

This is something from a project I’ve had sitting on the shelf collecting dust for about 2 years now. It’s a an Au where Allura is a blind witch and Shiro is a warewolf turned into a faithful seeing eye dog. They live together deep in the forest. I missed my OPT. A lot.

It’s a question that takes the form of an arrow and pierces him right through the heart in the dead of night. He thought she’d fallen asleep long ago but he’s once again fooled by her. Her even breathing was only a facade as she laid silence thinking about her life choices and how it brought her to him.

He shifts until he’s facing her. “I never hated you,” he says after a moment.

“You’re lying.” Her voice has a sharp edge to it.

He holds his breath. “I’m not.”

“You are,” she argues. “I know that because it’s written all over your face. I may be blind, but I can still see, Shiro.” The sly smile she always carries is replaced with a look of indifference.

Words are caught in the back of his throat and his mouth struggles to coax them out. “I’m telling you the truth. I may have not liked you, but I never hated you. Your kind just...terrifies me.” Her fingers twitch at her side at his words, eager to reach for her hair; her security blanket, but his hand closes around hers before she even gets the chance. “Listen, before I met you, I wrongfully assumed you were all the same; hexing everyone who even looked at you wrong. I acted out of fear and not of hatred when I first met you. But now...” His voice dies off. He knows what he wants to say, but he doesn’t have the courage.

She forces her fingers to thread through his. “Now?”

“Now I would give my life to protect you.”

She’s silent for a while, letting his words sink in. It seems like an enternity, but finally the sly smile he’s grown to dispise finds its way back to her lips. He knows he messed up. Her smile says so. She lets out a silly giggle accompanied with a condescending scratch behind his ear. “So you would give your life for me, but not your lips? How peculiar.” She unlaces their fingers before she turns around, breaking the spell she put him under.

In the darkness, his face glows red like the harvest moon. “You just can’t say things like that, then fall asleep, witch.”

“Watch me, Wolfboy.”

He knows he’s not getting any sleep tonight.

~

Allura liked to think that she was the perfect girlfriend, but deep down in the back of her mind, she knew that she was far from it. She knew just how stubborn she can be if things don’t go exactly the way she planned them in her head. She knew how fast she could shut down and shut everyone out when she was overwhelmed by work and her own reluctance to reach out to ask for help.

And she knew how much of a liar she could be.

She tended to lie about small things, of course, because they were for her own protection; like a barrier between her vulnerability and the rest of the world in the guiltless form of a little white lie. But sometimes...sometimes every blue moon, she didn’t lie for her own security. 

She lied for his.

Tonight, he was more distant than she was used to. He answered each and every question tossed his way with only half of his attention, and when he did answer, it was in the form of a ramble as if he barely paid attention to his own statement. 

She sat across from him on the couch with her feet tucked under her. The cup of lukewarm hot chocolate in her hands was rapidly losing its appeal the longer she thought about it. Blue eyes were glued o the TV in front of her, but she still gave him her full attention without drowning him in it – It’s an impressive balance that she’s come to master over their years together.

When another one of her open-ended statements is met without a response, her eyes finally drifted to him. Like her, he’s focused on the TV in front of him, but his mind was clearly somewhere else. Carefully, as if she didn’t want to startle him with her movements, she slowly walked away from the couch to stand in front of him. He doesn’t realize she’s standing in front of him until her voice filled his ears. 

“I had a bad day, and I could really use a hug right now.”

Another white lie couldn’t hurt.

He didn’t say a word, but his facial features softened into an expression that she can finally recognize as the exact one she fell in love with. Wordlessly, he reached up to wrap a hand around her wrist before he gently pulled her closer to him. Like a second home, she allowed herself to fall into him before she sank into his embrace. He sat back, letting the couch support his posture and the extra weight that was her in his lap.

Funny how she was the one who asked him for a hug, but yet here she was, doing most of the comforting. Long fingers carded through his inky hair like a soundless lullaby and he buried his face into her neck. It was like he didn’t know how much he needed this, how much needed her, until he found himself completely surrendered to her. He could live the rest of his life like this, and still die a happy man. 

After what seemed like an eternity that wasn’t nearly enough, she finally pulled away and gently planted a kiss on the scar that adored his nose. 

“You feel better?” 

He gave her boyish grin, a staple of his personality, and followed it with a curt laugh. Strong arms tightened their grip around her middle. “I don’t know how you do that.” 

“I do it only because you let me.”

He placed a hand under her chin and brought her lips closer to his. “And you’re the only one I’ll ever let close enough to do it.” 

She smirked against his lips. “Somehow, I believe you.” 

He gave her lips a quick peck. “You should,” he said after he pulled away. “I would never lie to you.” 

She was happy that at least one of them could tell the truth.

.~.