Allura Ship Week

Lotor may have split the Law of Cycles in two, but Allura still has memories telling her the world is not supposed to be this way.

So, this is an old fic that was originally meant for Day Seven: Magic/Miracles of @allurashipweek all the way back in 2017. I stumbled upon it in my Google Docs, and I decided to finish it. Ships are one-sided Lotura as well as pre-romantic Shallurat. Contains very mild body horror.

AO3

FFN

“We have a new transfer student,” Mr. Iverson said. He turned his head towards the door. “You can come in.”

As he turned to the board to write down the student’s name, a girl with pale hair tied up in a bun with a blue ribbon walked in. Her blue eyes scanned the room.

Blue? Why blue?

“Hi,” the girl said. “My name is Allura Brooks, and I transferred here from Arus. I lived there for ten years, but my father’s job transferred us back to Altea.”

You’ve never been to Arus; you’ve lived here your whole life.

Allura blinked. Ever since arriving back in Altea, she’d been getting feelings that something about the city was wrong. However, the feelings of wrongness hadn’t been so strong outside the classroom. “I, um, I hope you will accept me as your classmate!” She shuffled to her seat, face burning.

The Garrison debriefing finally ended. Shiro pulled her to the Wall without a word.

“Adam didn’t -”

His voice cut off abruptly. He pulled her in tightly and sobbed against her neck. Every man had his limits and Shiro was well past his. She sighed as tears leaked out of her eyes in empathy. He had survived the arena and even death itself only to come home to this.

“I’m so sorry love,” she whispered.

She held him for a while longer, rubbing his back and making soothing sounds. He had told her about his ex-fiancé. The things he missed about him, how sorry he was for their messy breakup. They talked extensively about themselves too and, if he could reconcile with Adam, what the future could hold depending on what Adam wanted.

But they hadn’t expected this.  

Adam’s demise was cruel in a way that couldn’t be fully explained in words but holding Shiro right now she could feel the ache in his essence. Alllura shifted her hold on him so she could see him face to face. The heartache in his eyes made her tears slip out faster. 

She took a moment to swallow it down. 

“Shiro - Takashi,” she gently wiped under his eyes with her thumbs. “I’m sorry to ask…but are they certain?”

Shiro’s shoulders lifted up in a tiny shrug. “There were only fragments left from his squadrons’ fighters.” He closed his eyes. “Nothing to bury.”

She pulled him in for a hug. His left arm hung by his side as he leaned into her for strength. It was rare for him to do that in private, let alone in public. Without his right arm he was stricter with himself on not portraying weakness around the Garrison - most likely subconsciously done but Allura noticed. 

But this…

This was too much to mask. 

“Heavens,” she sighed for what she was going to say. “Could I try something Shiro?”

He did that tiny shrug again. She pulled away from the hug and took his hand.

“We need to go outside.”

He offered no resistance as she led them out to an inner courtyard. Thankfully no one was around at the moment but she didn’t know how long that would last. She hated the thought of rushing him but it was wartime. Every tick counted in these situations. 

She drew herself up and faced him. She needed to be his fortifying armor right now. Heavens knew he was hers several times over. It was time he let her take care of him.

“I want to see if I can sense him but I don’t know what his quintessence feels like.” Pause. “Shiro.” She placed her hands on his shoulders. “Is it too much to ask to see in your mind?”

His red eyes darted across her face as he let that sink in.

“You need to access my memories.”

Day 7: Alternate Realities/AUs

Rating: T

Content Warnings: canon typical violence, canon divergence

—————————

The first try, he’d been a villain. Her enemy only, treating her like an object to be stolen or won. The second, still a villain, he’d desired to make her a member of his harem, then his wife. Each time she’d been the parody of a person, a damsel princess in distress for the Paladins to save. Over and over, they came into each other’s orbit, but he was too bestial and she was too helpless; they couldn’t be. Too warped by their roles.

It seemed almost as though this time they’d gotten it. He was bestial, but not villainous. He was someone raised in blood and war and who saw corpses as frequent as the moons, a child raised loveless in an endless void who sought to be better than his upbringing. She was passionate, bold, commanding and sharp, capable of ruling, not just a princess in name. And so they fell into each other’s orbit’s again, closer this time. They kissed. They succeeded—well, not quite. They came close to success, brushed hands with it. But the bestial nature of his upbringing had driven him to make sacrifices she could not abide, and the fire in her soul burned too bright and too angry for forgiveness, and they killed each other. First she killed him, left him to rot in the rift between realities. Then his absence killed her, the dominos of fate colliding so that her only option was self-sacrifice.

“We got close this time, my love,” Allura said, when her soul was in the Everything and Nothing, intertwined once more with his.

“One more try?” he suggested, reshaping some bits of their world. “But this time, we’ll get it right.”

—

Her Highness Princess Allura Alforsdottir of Altea, first of her name and heiress to her mother’s throne, was raised lovingly by two parents and one mustached advisor who adored her. She was taught the principles of ruling, the fickle nature of diplomacy, the mire of politics, and, when she insisted that her father quit seeing her as “his little girl,” and start treating her as queen to be, she learned of the necessity of sacrifice, how to be presented with a situation containing no easy solutions and make the hard decisions for her people’s greater good.

Her father’s death at the hand of an old friend was an anguish to her, and then ten thousand years she slept.

Lotor was raised by the strictest Dayak his father could find, one who would foster the Galran flame of violence and victory and the vrepit sa. This Lotor did not limp after his father’s approval, not this time. He knew, somehow, as though delivered to him in a dream, that he would never, ever get it. He kept his kindnesses as his own personal secrets. Hired those his father banished, spared lives he should have, by all rights, slain, and worked with the planets he ruled over, rather than slaughtering needlessly. He hid the Alteans away.

The planet he loved best never went down in flames, while he was forced to watch. That piece of his heart went unbroken, a final proof, to himself, that he would find a way to sustainably gather quintessence. He never turned to more desperate methods of collection. Rift science remained largely hypothetical to him. For ten thousand years, he worked.

And, as they always did, their souls fell into orbit.

The meeting was messy, antagonistic, both understanding the other to be a roadblock to their goals. But when they struck the chord of cooperation it rang out sweet and high and gentle on their souls, something settling down between them that was delightful, yet familiar.

“It feels as though my heart knows you,” Lotor admitted, in the quiet hours when they were alone.

“I feel a kinship with you, also,” Allura agreed, her hands holding Lotor’s larger ones gently, kindly.

When they went to the rift, Allura paving the way for science Lotor thought impossible, they returned victorious, pure quintessence in unparalleled quantities now at their fingertips, and Allura returned to the happy surprise of Keith standing there with an Altean, a young woman too bold to stay where she’d been put, too eager to remain in hiding. Lotor’s secret came out before it’s time, but it was not an unhappy one.

Allura Ship Week Day 7–AU

Short and kinda more of an idea than a fic, but my brain went “you know centaurs? That but lions” and I had to run with it.

Alternate Realities/AUs

Lion prides consisted of women, of their families, with young men too small to leave just yet, and an older man, maybe two, possibly three, who acted as head until a fresh, new male came to usurp the throne as leader of the pride. Young women often stayed with their mothers and aunts, few opting to leave the group as they aged.

Allura had never really planned on leaving hers. She liked her mother, liked her nanna and her aunts, liked her goofy uncle and her father.

But when Zarkon took over the pride, her father and uncle’s corpses a testimony to the nature of their kind, Allura quietly took her leave.

“Okay, hear me out,” Pidge, a red billed hornbill that Allura had befriended in her youth, said, perching on Allura’s back. “We’re all actually insects.”

“And how do you reach that conclusion?” Allura asked, meandering towards a nearby watering hole.

“Insects are primarily defined as having six limbs, right? But we have six limbs. I have my bird legs, my wings, and my human arms, you have your human arms, and your lion legs. That’s six.

“Don’t insects also have wings?” Allura asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Pidge said, and for a moment Allura wondered if she’d actually been able to successfully counter one of Pidge’s conspiracy theories. “I guess that means just you’re an insect. I’m a regular harpy.”

Allura laughed, and then her ear twitched. When she turned to look, she saw Pidge’s prey sensibilities also had them staring off to the north.

There was a cenleo there. A lion, just like herself, though he was more beige-gold while she had a more silvery-white quality to her fur. He seemed to notice them about the same time they noticed him, and the wind rustled the grass around the other wise still trio.

He raised a hand in greeting. He wasn’t going to fight them.

She lifted a hand back, and crossed over, curious. There wasn’t much chance he would try and fight her, not if he wasn’t making that clear from the start, though Pidge voiced their wariness.

“Hello,” he greeted, and he had a gorgeous voice. Pidge peered around Allura’s shoulders, likely looking every bit the skeptic, and Allura smiled.

“Hello yourself. Is this your territory?” she asked, not wanting to intrude. He shrugged.

“Only sort of. I’m not going to fight anyone for it, but my pride and I live here.”

A lion that wouldn’t fight having a pride. How novel.

“I’m in the market for a pride,” Allura mentioned, liking how his body language was nonthreatening, almost unassuming. “My name’s Allura.”

“Hunk.”

—

A long conversation near the watering hole and a quick conference with Pidge later, the two decided to follow Hunk home and meet the other lionesses he lived with. He was a soft man, and his pride a collection of people, unrelated, who simply hadn’t been at home among others, or whose families had died of plagues or disasters and had needed new ones.

Allura supposed she’d never find a group more fitting.

Shay, Romelle, Axca, and a woman old enough to be Hunk’s mother, Krolia, greeted Allura warmly, forming fast friendships. They were also quite smitten with Pidge, who gladly informed them all that they were “a lionhearted person anyway.” Hunk rested on a warm rock, happily observing that Allura was welcomed and accepted into the family, and Allura gave him a smile.

Allura smiled back and sauntered over. “I think we’d like to stay,” she said, leaning her lower body against Hunk’s on the warm rock and looking over to where Pidge was arguing delightedly with Romelle.

Allura Ship Week Day 7 - AU/Crossover

“I can’t shake this guy! Whoever you are, the Invid want you bad.“

“Keep your eyes forward. I want to try something.“

It really shouldn’t have bothered Allura.

She’d been to worse diplomatic dinners and had to keep her composure for highly offensive and apathetic comments before. The Voltron Coalition was still fairly small and with limited resources. She’d been prepared to argue in terms of war and politics.

But she hadn’t prepared herself for that comment.

‘She’s still wearing that same outfit,’ came the pitying, off handed comment within Allura’s hearing range, ‘I suppose she’s princess in name only.’

It was shallow and petty. She’d learned to shake off such snide remarks when she was a young girl with out of control frizzy hair. Looks were not everything and even though time - and proper hair care - had finally tamed her unruly hair she came to the conclusion that appearances were often constructed. What was conventional beauty was often an illusion. A person’s inner character was what was important.

But that comment had been humiliating.

She had excused herself from the proceedings to gather herself.

When she returned to the Castle of Lions she went straight to her quarters, paused by her bedroom door, and then walked passed it.

She went further into the royal wing. She entered her mother’s dressing room with her heartbeat unusually high. The room’s lights flickered on. To the left were the wall closets and shoes. On the right was the vanity with perfume bottles still perfectly organized in their glass case and the jewelry box embedded with crystals from across the universe. All of this was within easy reach of the cushioned bench.

Allura let her fingers trail over the vanity table before turning her attention to the center of the room. There was a raised platform with three tall mirrors. To the right side close to the closet were white and iridescent curtains hanging from the ceiling to act as a changing area. An empty hover rack was nearby.

“Alright,” she murmured to herself.

She walked to the closet and pressed the door lock to open. Dried juniberries immediately hit her nose.

She was suddenly a little girl clinging to her mother’s skirt as her mother calmly looked through her warbdrobe.

“Which color today, my darling?”

“ ‘ellow, mama.”

Her mother picked her up and rested her on her hip. “Then yellow it is.”

Allura reached in and pulled out the dress. She huntg it on the rack and then pulled the dressing curtains to cover her from prying eyes. The high collar and sleeves were white with golden yellow ribbons crisscrossing along the forearms. The overlayer consisted of the same golden yellow bodice and skirt. Ribbon vines were embroidered along the top of the bodice and along the bottom of the floor length skirt. She stepped out to get on the platform. She eyed herself in the mirrors. She takes to herself as the chest part of the dress was visibly sunken in.

Her mother had been fuller in the chest area but at least she had inherited her wide hips. Her fingers ran over the curves of her hips as she took it all in. It looked off. She scrutinized herself then tutted.

“The bun is not right for this,” she muttered as she tugged the pins out.

She dropped them on the platform next to her then shook her hair out. She sighed in relief as her roots relaxed from the tight bun. Her fingers rubbed her scalp and then idly rearranged her hair to sit somewhat neater.

“Better.”

But it still looked off. She looked off. Her brows furrowed a little. It was -

“…Wow.”

Her ears twitched. She looked in the mirror and spotted black and white by the door. She twisted herself around.

“Shiro?”

The Black Paladin’s eyes were wide as he took her in. Then he cleared his throat and looked over her shoulder.

“I, uh, just thought I’d check on you. I tried your room but you weren’t there. Coran tracked your earrings this way, so…” he shrugged. “I knocked but you didn’t answer.”

“Why are you looking for me?”

“Well… you usually debrief me right after your meetings,” his cheeks colored slightly, “but you didn’t this time.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” She felt her cheeks flush in return. “I’m sorry. The time got away from me. Will you give me ten doboshes?”

“Sure princess. The library or the observation deck?”

“Library.”

“Ok. See you soon.” He turned to go then paused by the doorway. “That color looks good on you.”

Both of their faces were flushed but neither saw the other’s redness. Shiro had quickly turned his face away and left after saying that.

****

They both sat quietly in the customary window seat.

Shiro waited for Allura to start, like always. She was more subdued than he had ever seen her.

“Have you ever feared you’d never measure up to your parents?”

“My parents died when I was young,” came Shiro’s automatic response.

“Oh, I am so sorry. I hadn’t-”

“It’s fine. I’m sorry. It just came out. I’m so used to having to say that when it comes to my parents.” He softly sighed when she was still looking at him with those blue, concerned eyes. “My grandfather raised me though he was easy going.” He looked out to the stars. “But I had high expectations for myself.” He turned back to her. “What or who’s expectations do you think you’re failing?”

In the beginning, this ease of conversation had intimidated her. But it was late and no one else was around. There was no court to worry about. No gossipy servants.

Even with all of that…there was something very earnest and open about Shiro that made her unguarded. She realized she would have talked with him like this regardless of all of that.

“…Myself, I suppose.” She leaned back against the wall of the window seat. “I already fear I may not reach the levels of my father’s alchemic skills. Today however,” she closed her eyes, “I realized I may not be the queen my mother was.” She let out a tired sigh. “Not that I was expecting to become a queen under these circumstances.” She ran a hand through her hair. “It’s not easy to explain. I was looking at myself in her gown and it looked wrong.” She looked up to Shiro with a deep frown. “I looked wrong.”

Shiro rubbed his face scar contemplatingly.

“Maybe you’re trying too hard to be someone else. And that’s why it felt wrong.” He laid a light hand on the top of her slippered foot, the closest part of her to him. “Who you are is incredible. You’re doing outrageously fantastic especially considering the circumstances.”

She was still looking at his hand on her foot. Bare hand touch was intimate. Feet touching especially so. It was why she had shooed his hand away when they had been intoxicated and he had been tapping her toes as he counted them. She opened her mouth to tell him so he would remove his hand.

“…I have plenty of assistance.”

“Nothing wrong with that.” He smiled warmly. “We all help each other. I think that’s more than enough to create a better future.”

His thumb lightly trailed up and down her ankle bone. She was suddenly curious to know…

“Am I attractive?” She blushed and quickly added, “in human terms?”

His thumb stopped stroking her ankle. This time she did see his blush.

“Why do you ask?”

She hummed. “Simple curiosity.”

He looked at her silently. “In general terms, yes.”

She was looking up at him through her white lashes. “And personally?”

He had flirted with her a couple of times but she had not initiated it before. His hand slowly slid up her foot to circle her ankle and then slid back down.

Her purple oval pupils were wider. He leaned over his raised knee so his face was closer to her.

“What do you think?”

Her eyes drifted to her foot and then back to his face.

“You seem to like touching me.”

He made a low sound of agreement. “Your skin’s smooth and warm.”

She leaned in towards him.

“Your pupils are also wide open.”

“So are yours.”

She tilted her head, making her snowy hair slip down her shoulder.

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes highness.”

“…Allura,” she quietly said.

His hand lifted up to twirl a piece of her hair. It was soft and curled easily around his finger. This was changing faster than he expected. But he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to. In all the chaos of his time in space this bond, this force between them, was one of the few things that made sense in his life.

“Is that really what you want?” he lowly rumbled.

She shivered pleasantly. This tone of voice was almost as wonderful as his singing voice.

“I know what I want,” she half whispered.

His eyes half closed as she came forward to fill the gap. There was a gentle, shared breath and then the press of warm lips. It was so faint, so soft that he almost doubted what was happening. But then their lips brushed again, shooting a sharp thrill down his spine. She pulled away to rest her cheek against his.

“Say it,” she breathed against his ear. “Please.”

“You don’t ever have to beg, Allura” he murmured. He brought his right hand up to her cheek without thinking. “You just need to ask.”

“I do not beg.”

He smiled at that. “You sure about that?”

“I don’t think I like your tone.”

He heartily laughed at that. “I’ll stop.” He moved his head so they were face to face. “And focus on something else.”

“I would like that.”

He leaned in to kiss her lips but then angled his head at the last second to get her cheek.

“That’s not where I want my kiss.”

He kissed between her eyebrows.

“Shiro-”

He quickly kissed her lips. “Right there?”

“Yes.”

They connected more solidly this time. They reveled in the warmth of the other’s mouth, the shape of their lips, the texture of the bit of tongue that lightly rubbed against each other. He pulled away for air. Her eyes were hazy as if under the influence of Nunvill.

“More,” she whispered.

First time on Earth/Cultural Differences

Hunk was of a firm and stalwart belief that no matter who you were or where you were from, the best way to engage with a new culture was through food.

And he’d been waiting to show Allura his culture’s food for a long, long while.

“What are you making?” Allura asked, peeking her head around his body to stare at the stove.

“Shrimp and grits! It’s one of my favorite meals ever. Nothing says ‘home’ to me quite like it. My mom’s is obviously the best but I’m not too bad.”

“It smells wonderful,” she praised, and he passed her a large bowl just as soon as he was finished.

“Cornbread’s almost done,” Hunk said, “Let’s get this stuff to the table and also something to drink, and we should be ready to go.”

Hunk was delighted to see how much Allura liked the food. It wasn’t the fanciest thing he’d ever made, and far from experimental, but it was good food, familiar to him in the same way an old shirt with worn and fraying sleeves was familiar, comfortable.

“Welcome to Earth,” he said, and when she smiled at him he felt so impossibly warm.

—

The next big meal, of course, absolutely had to be bao. Hunk’s family was gathered around, as they always were, at the table and kitchen counter, making filling and then stuffing it. Allura sat at Hunk’s side, Hunk’s grandmother at his left and father on Allura’s right, and Allura watched Hunk’s grandmother raptly as she showed her how to fill the dumplings. This was it, this was the peak of everything, Hunk always decided. Just, his family, gathered around, making food, making good food, traditional food. His girlfriend at his side and the smell of it all in the air and the familiarity of it all, the joy to be sharing it with the woman he loved most.

His dad wasn’t much for the kitchen, he much prefered the garage or his workshop. He was the man who had inspired Hunk’s love for engineering, the endless desire to tinker with metal and wires. But this was the one food where he never missed the making, and for some reason that always made Hunk emotional. It was good to see the way that food could bring anyone and everyone around the table, but it was even better to see the way it always had. The family memories stored in each person, all gathered around the steamers and the dough.

“This is really nice,” Allura told him quietly, leaning in against his shoulder, and he smiled.

“It’s good to have you here. Making bao with the family is one of my favorite things to do.”

“You’ve told me about it,” Allura said, “Even with you talking it up so much, it’s surpassed my expectations. It’s just. Nice.”

Hunk kissed her forehead and passed her the bowl of filling, feeling stuffed full of love, himself.

—

“It’s a traditional Altean breakfast,” she told him. “Obviously the ingredients have all been substituted, but it’s rather hard to go wrong with flour, sugar, and preserves.”

“It looks kind of like Swedish pancakes,” he remarked, hands on her waist from behind, standing close on the cold kitchen tile in the soft morning light.

“Possibly,” Allura said as she poured thin disks of batter onto the skillet. “It’s far from the most complex of foods. But still. They remind me of home,” she said fondly, smiling at the pan. They were thin enough that flipping them was just to get both sides evenly browned, not cooked, and she dabbed strawberry jam in little heart shapes in the middle of each disk.

“That’s adorable,” Hunk said, almost not wanting to eat them, they were so cute.

“You’re adorable,” Allura said, kissing him briefly and tasting of morning coffee. “Eat up. I’ve got about a million more of these on the way, and they taste best hot.”

Day 6: First time on Earth/Cultural Differences

Rating: E

Content warnings: mating cycles/heat, alien biology, F/M/M/M, polyamorous relationship, on the fly polyamory negotiations, breedkink

I wrote like ten jillion pages of Allura/Lotor/Hunk/Matt spicy funtimes so here yall enjoy

Allura Ship Week Day 6–First Time on Earth

@allurashipweek

Allura Ship Week Day 6 - First Time on Earth/Cultural Differences

“Wait, Belgium?”

“Please don’t say it again, I’ve just eaten!“

Allura kept her eyes closed as Coran held her.

He was warm and the scent of something tangy lingered in his clothes. She buried her nose into the collar of his light blue vest and breathed it in. His own breath was even. She could feel his chest expand and retract as his lungs worked.

Even before her sacrifice it had been much too long since she’d embraced her second father.

“Is that miltopane?”

Coran lightly chuckled. “Yes it is.” He kissed the top of her hair. “The trees here are larger than what we used to have but the fruit’s very good.” He tilted his head so he could look at her properly. “I can bring some for you if you’d like.”

“Please.”

At this point she’d even eat food goo. It hadn’t been the worst to eat but it wasn’t her favorite. After being in a healing cocoon of her parents’ Quintessence for some time before the Atlas found her she was up to tasting anything.

“Coming right up princess.”

Coran gave her one last squeeze before slipping off her bed. It was late morning but Allura’s body still needed rest. Saving all realities earned her that much.

“Coran.”

He paused by the door. “Yes princess?”

She bit her lips. “About before - when I left,” she fisted her blankets as tears started welling up. “I didn’t mean to go without saying goodbye.”

“I know, juniberry. But Allura - please.” Coran wiped under his eyes. “Let’s not talk about that. You’re back and that’s all that matters to me.”

“I don’t mean to upset you,” she half whispered. “But you mean so much to me - I love you Coran.” Tears glistened down her cheeks. “The thought that I didn’t get the chance to tell you back then -”

Coran was by her side in an instance. “Oh heavens,” he choked out as he tightly held her. “You’re my sun, Allura.” He repeatedly kissed her forehead. “Don’t ever do that again and I’ll consider us even.”

Allura silently nodded her head as they cried together. Coran broke off even though his eyes were still wet.

“I need to get you your treat,” he smiled.

“What would I do without you?”

“Starve,” he playfully winked.

She softly tittered at that. He gave her a last look and then left her bedroom. Allura fell back against the pillows with a shaky sigh. That had been bothering her for so long she was glad to have finally addressed it. Her heart was still aching though. Some more tears slipped out from her closed eyes as she thought about nothing in particular. She was simply emotion.

There was a soft knock on her door. She knew it was too soon to be Coran. She used her nightgown’s sleeve to wipe her face.

“Come in.”

Shiro came through the door. He had simple Earth clothes on: black jeans, a white shirt and black jacket. His right arm was the Altean blue and white that formed a complete arm that closely matched what his arm would be like. His hover arm was only for wartime.

Seeing him out of uniform made her smile.

“Hey there sleepyhead.” His smile dropped as he came to her bedside. “Allura, are you ok?”

Her eyes must have been puffy and red.

“Yes.”

Shiro arched a disbelieving brow. That made her laugh.

“I’m fine, I promise.”

“…Ok. If not -”

“You’ll know Shiro.”

He lightly grinned at that. “You’ll just throw me out.”

“Well, more of a gentle nudge.”

“Right.” His smile waned a little. “On a more serious note…I wanted to see if you were up to talking about - things. Where we stand. It’s not really important but,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “I did kiss you a week ago.”

“As well as Curtis.”

“Oh?”

“It happened right behind you.” She grinned a little. “I’m surprised you didn’t see. We were still embracing when he leaned in.”

“literally behind my back,” he shook his head. “And you were fine with it?”

Her eyes darted away with a bit of shyness. “It was unexpected.” She looked back st him with redness in her cheeks. “But so was your kiss, I suppose.”

Shiro’s face felt warm. “Allura, I…I’ve been in love with you for a while.” He grabbed his knee. “But I also fell in love with Curtis. He was there for me in dark times. Helped me find my way again after - Well, after you died.” He swallowed hard. “He knew I needed to search for you. He helped me Allura, knowing full well that I still loved you and what that could mean for him if we did find you.”

“He sounds like a good man.”

“He is.” Shiro took her hand into his. “It’s selfish of me. I don’t even know where to begin but….” he lifted his eyes to her face, his silver brows twisted up in conflict, “is there a way this could work? With the three of us?”

Allura slipped her hand out of his to fully cup his face.

“Of course we can.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why not? Coran and my parents managed just fine.”

Shiro’s brows lifted up. “Your parents and Coran were in a polyarmorous relationship?”

“Well of course they were,” Allura lightly laughed. “Why do you think there are so many paintings of them together? Granted, Coran and my mother had a more companionable relationship but they were all happy together.” Allura considered him for a moment. “Is that not common on Earth?”

“Generally, no.”

“Well,” she kissed the tip of his nose. “Good thing you’re on Altea.”

His shoulders relaxed considerably. “Yeah. Good thing.”

“I’ll need some time with Curtis but he seemed pleasant on the Atlas. Very friendly.” She gave him a small smirk. “A lovely kisser.”

“That he is.” Shiro answered her playful smirk. “I’ll be sure to tell him.”

“Don’t you dare Shiro!”

He pushed aside the pillow she hit him with. “Takashi.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “I’d like it if you used my first name.”

“…Takashi,” she tried out.

Allura Ship Week Day 5–Armor

Day 5: Fashion/Armor

Rating: T

Content warnings: Stacey’s mom has got it going on, age gap

————————

Meeting Keith’s mother had the whole castle in titters, Shiro obviously the worst, but everyone else was very excited too. Allura patiently waited, at least outwardly, for her turn to shake Krolia’s hand and say hello, smiling the whole while with eyes glued to the woman’s face.

“You must be Princess Allura, then,” Krolia greeted with a smile that showed just the barest hint of fang, extending her hand.

“A pleasure to meet you, Keith’s hot mom,” Allura said, out loud, which left the rest of the castle dead silent.

—

“Keith’s hot mom,” Keith said for what had to be the millionth time, later in Allura’s bedroom while she diligently worked on suffocating herself in her own pillow.

“I can’t believe I said that,” Allura groaned for what had to be the billionth time, earning another bout of mocking laughter from Keith.

“I can’t either. Is this like, a thing with you? Is there something deeper going on here?” Keith carried on, delightedly ignoring Allura slowly lifting and dropping her fist on the back of her own skull. “Do you feel deep, unbridled attraction to me, but since I’m gay and also taken you’ve shifted those feelings onto my mom?”

Allura groaned loudly.

“Or do you just have a thing for older women, maybe? Milfs? Are you into milfs, Allura?”

Allura lifted the pillow from under her face so she could wrap it around her ears, trying to block her friend out.

Keith, absolutely undaunted, sat on her back. “Is it because she’s Galra? Do you secretly have a Galra fetish?”

“I just saw a hot woman in armor and my mouth went faster than my brain!” Allura protested. “That’s it!”

“Right, right. Keith’s hot mom, incredible.”

“I hate you.”

—

Fortunately, the next time Allura saw Krolia, they were not in front of Allura’s friends, Allura’s secondary father figure, god Themself, or Keith’s new dog. It was just them.

“Krolia,” Allura flagged, apology on her lips, jogging a few steps closer.

“Keith’s hot friend,” Krolia greeted in return, grinning with fangs showing. Allura noticed belatedly that she was out of her blade armor, and just wearing a sleek, fashionable tank top. Oh she was in so much trouble.

“Ah, yes, that’s what I wanted to apologize about,” Allura said with a bright blush.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Krolia said before Allura could remark on the inappropriateness of her comment. “I’m flattered.”

“O-oh. That’s good then. I am, glad I didn’t make you uncomfortable. It won’t happen again, though, I promise.”

Krolia leaned on the nearby wall, hand sliding behind her ear and through her lovely hair, musculature on full display.

“Mm. That’s too bad. Something might have happened, otherwise.”

Oh.

Ohhhhhh.

Oh no, Allura was in trouble.

“Well then, I suppose I shall see you later, Keith’s hot mom.”

Krolia grinned wide again and Allura felt her heart flutter. She was playing with fire, now.

She grinned back.

—

“I can’t believe you’re dating my mom,” Keith said into his pillow, for what had to be the millionth time.

“I can’t either,” Allura answered again, delightedly perched on top of Keith’s back. “Does she like flowers? Sweets? What do you think would be good ways to woo her, do you think?”

“I regret everything,” Keith muttered, and Allura poked at his side.

“Pidge also wanted me to let you know,” she cleared her throat, and began singing to the tune of some earth song, “Keith-y’s Mom has got it going on!”

Fashion/Armor

Having two boyfriends was an all around excellent arrangement, one Allura was extraordinarily fond of, but it did make coordinating outfits relatively difficult.

Altean fashion was strikingly dissimilar to Galran, and human fashion was unlike either of them. Earth-based events went easily enough, Allura and Lotor would dress to suit Hunk’s culture. Allura found the styles of Earth quite flattering, and Lotor looked stellar in an agbada. When attending empire-based events, Allura and Hunk would dress like Galra, a simplistic and industrial style with blacks, purples, and Lotor’s favored oranges. But in gatherings for the Voltron Coalition, there were so many cultures intermingling it made sense to dress in the attire of one’s own heritage, but, again, that made coordinating difficult.

Especially since this was a party, not just a formal gathering where sleek black made for an acceptable outfit. They were supposed to dress up.

“Nothing matches,” Allura said, looking through their collections of nice clothing. She had the largest assortment, but only because Lotor had previously been denied such vanities before claiming that Galran throne. He was making up for lost time in quick order, however.

“We could all wear our human outfits,” Lotor suggested, resting a hand on her hip and the tip of his chin against her head. “Those match, and I like the flow of the cloth.”

Allura sighed. “I would prefer to wear one of my own outfits. Altea cannot host it’s own events, on account of not existing anymore, so Coalition gatherings are really the only place where I can wear my own fashion.”

She felt Lotor’s body perk up behind her and Hunk said, “Why don’t we all wear Altean clothes then?”

“I was just about to suggest that!” Lotor agreed delightedly.

“Coran’s close to the same build as him,” Hunk said, gesturing to their tall purple boyfriend, “and I’m sure we could find something that would fit me.”

“Hunk you’re a genius,” Allura said, the solution so obvious now that someone had said it out loud.

“Thanks, I know,” Hunk said with a smile, bending to kiss her cheek fondly.

“I’ll go ask Coran, he knows where everything is in this castle.”

“Thank you Hunk!” Allura called after him, twisting in Lotor’s arms and looping her own around his waist. “Well, you look happy,” she remarked. And he did, ears pointing nearly straight up, eyes bright with fully-visible irises, his velveteen fur raised which gave his features a soft and rounded quality.

“You know how dearly I enjoy Altean culture,” Lotor said. His ears twitched down a brief moment, “and how often I’ve longed that I could have been raised a part of it. I’m delighted to receive the chance to wear traditional attire from my mother’s people.”

“And I know you’ll look positively devastating in it,” Allura said with a smile of her own, going up on tiptoes to kiss him.

—

It was simultaneously a fortunate and unfortunate happenstance that both her men were, in fact, devastatingly attractive in Altean formalwear. The thick gold and beige cloth cascaded over Hunk’s figure in a way that was decidedly godlike, and the patterned blue and white Lotor had selected carved easy pathways for her eyes to roam all over his body.

“Well, when I said you’d look amazing I didn’t say you could upstage me,” Allura teased, wearing a high-collared dress and train herself.

“Oh, we definitely aren’t,” Hunk assured, eyes on her and her alone.

“I agree with full vehemence,” Lotor said, sliding his large palm against the small of her back and pressing his painted lips to her hairline.

Hunk came close and kissed her, also, and then kissed Lotor in front of her, Hunk’s hand on her shoulder.

Allura Ship Week Day 5 - Fashion/Armor

“Pidge, if you keep sitting like that you’ll wrinkle the dress.”

“This dress was destined for wrinkles the moment you gave it to me.”