The Soul of Voltron| A Voltron x Reader | TEMPORARY HIATUS

This Is Why I Hate Parties...

"Allura, I'm begging you."

Allura shoots me a glare. "(Y/N), the answer is 'No,' and I really wish you would stop asking."

I scrunch up my face. That hurt. "Allura, I'm telling you, this party is a bad idea. The Galra could see we have our doors wide open to the Arusians and use that as a perfect time to strike. If you won't take my word for it, then go talk to Shiro. He'll tell you exactly the same thing."

"And believe that you haven't told him to agree with you just to get me to cancel the party? Really, (Y/N), I thought you were better than this." Allura turns back to focus on Coran's decorating job.

I sigh and step in front of her to ensure her full attention. "Alright. Throw your party. But there are two things I can guarantee: One, the Galra will attack, and two, I won't be there to save your sorry rears."

"'Won't be there'?!" Allura bellows, rattling my eardrums around. "What do you mean, 'Won't be there'?! You claimed to be their Lion Goddess, and you're not going to show face?! That is not how a goddess should behave! Now listen here, (Y/N). You are going to this party, and you are going to enjoy yourself or so help me, I will turn you over to the Galra myself!"

I smirk. "No, you won't. You're too concerned about how Voltron looks for you to turn me over to your mortal enemy."

Allura seethes, defeated. Her shoulders slump, and she says, "There are other means of persuasion besides turning you over to the Galra. You're going to the party, whether you like it or not. I can do that."

"Prove it."

"I will. Follow me."

This is going to be the biggest mistake I've ever made.

I should never have let Allura talk me into this. Why can't I grow a spine? Allura had the genius idea to put me in a dress instead of my Voltron State battle armor.

A prissy fancy dress. With glitter.

Allura has officially signed her death warrant.

I don't hate the dress. It's beautiful. It's a royal blue gown, with thin, glittery sky blue tulle lining the skirt, leaving blue sparkles everywhere I go. But the bodice is tiny to the point Allura insisted that I wear a corset, which is hindering my breathing. The thin spaghetti straps dig into my shoulders, and the built-in bra has underwires forcing my breasts into uncomfortable positions. I don't have contortionists on my chest, Allura!

Now, I'm standing a bit away from the ballroom staircase, trying not to pass out from the corset. Jeez, it's so tight!

"Are you alright, (Y/N)?" Coran steadies my shaking arms and puts his hand on my back. "You look like you're about to faint."

"It's...so...tight...can't...breathe!" I wheeze for air. "Loosen...corset...

the cords..."

Coran takes his hand from my back and scratches his nape. "I can't do that. For one, it's a little inappropriate, and two, Allura will kill me."

"To heck with Allura! I can't breathe!"

"You're talking. You're fine," Coran says, carelessness flooding his tone. He looks at my hair. "Your hair is a mess."

Gently, his fingers comb through the strands of my hair before he twists it up. He pulls something from his pocket and shows it to me. It's a hairpin, its pearls translucent midnight. Light shimmers through them.

"It was a gift from Allura's mother. She told me to save it for a special occasion. I don't think Allura will mind you wearing it." Coran pins my hair up, then steps back and admires his work. "There. You look like a goddess."