Heyy, it’s me. It’s been a while. Just so yall know, I still love Shallura. Here’s some food.
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.”
I’m in the mood for drabbles. Feel free to send requests.
tangentwithtanner
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